Around here we link up with Gypsy Mama and write for five minutes flat on Fridays.
We write because we love words and the relief it is to just write them without worrying if they’re just right or not. So we take five minutes on Friday and write like we used to run when we were kids.
On Fridays we write like we believe we can fly. Won’t you join us? (<—Tweet this!)
Today's word: ACHE.
I almost pick up the spelling packet three times. It waves at me, beckoning me to put it in my daughter's folder for school. It is due tomorrow. I am working early and won't be here to see if she finds it and remembers to take it. If she forgets, she'll probably cry, a social mistake in 4th grade. No one will be home to call and take it to her. She needs to learn.
Letting you learn, make mistakes, not always protecting you. That is part of my job. But my instincts, they don't know the job description. They want to run ahead of you, knocking down every obstacle, every pointy object, every word with barbs. But life isn't like that. It isn't safe and comfortable and full of happiness. And now, while you are in my care, it's my job to get you ready. To train you, to give battle plans, to point you to God, the only one you can fully trust.
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| That pretty world? It isn't so cute. |
And baby, you don't always think I know what I am doing when I tell you no. And you are right. I am glad for now, that you don't know how much I don't know. Because watching you encounter the world, and wondering the best way to steer you. It makes me ache.
