Five Minute Friday: Grit


Today I'm joining my friend The Gypsy Mama for five minutes where I'll write without editing, backtracking, or second guessing.  Writing because it brings me joy.  Five minutes to share, to unite, to process our hearts. Just five minutes. 
Ready...Set...Go!



Grit is the sand that smooths us, refines us, changes our hearts and our ways.

Uncomfortable? YES.  
Easy? One loud, emphatic NO. 


But necessary.  My God uses the grit in my life to shape me into the woman, the mother, the wife and friend he desires me to be. I don't enjoy the dirty, the pain, the scratch of being made into a new creation. I want to stay the same...but don't we all? It is oh-so-much easier to maintain than it is to change.

But if I never go through the fire, I cannot become the masterpiece He has chosen to make of me. 

I want to become the transparent, beautiful glass that is formed when heat and sand meet...I want to reflect Him well.

I cannot do it alone. I need the grit. I will embrace His plan to smooth, mold, create me in His image.

Bring on the grit.

STOP







Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Loving Well

It's as much a part of me as breathing, this friendship she and I have woven together.  In and out, up and down, encircling us. Never ceasing. Never slowing. None of the breaks, skips, or hiccups that usually occur in relationships. Not a one. We came together so seamlessly I don't  remember what my life, my days, my moments felt like without her beside me, even in a figurative sense. I know it sounds odd, the stuff of science fiction movies and creepy music, but our relationship has been like that from the beginning. I wake up when something happens to her or when she dreams and cannot bring herself out of it. She knows when I've hit my bottom and swoops in to scoop me up.   Even our night times overlap. That silly red sports car she drives in the non-waking hours? It shows up for both of us. I tell her geniuses choose green and she laughs. I am thankful to hear it so strong, so clear. Her laughter is the mix of all things beautiful; soft undertones of leaves
Read more

The Power of Words

Before Sara died, she asked me to speak at her wake. She didn't desire that I share with others memories  of  her. Rather, she asked that I speak about who she was in this world. She told me that she wanted people who came  to see her  as I spoke.  She also told me I wasn't allowed to cry. It would, she stated, "Make things less effective."  Love her.   A friend who was present asked that I  ( Shannon )  put it up for all of you, who were unable to join us at the service, to read. .  .  .  .  .  .  . Gail Caldwell wrote:  "It's an old, old story. I had a friend and we shared everything, and then she died and so we shared that too."   Words are powerful. Uniting. They shape our view of the world, ourselves, each other. Words, in the best cases, make us immortal. Words are how I found her. Faith is what brought us together. A friend send me an email, asking me to pray for a mother who knew she was going to lose her baby girl and carried he
Read more

Tuesday's Child is Full of Grace

Eleven years ago you entered our world. Small. Red. Making your voice heard. Three separate due dates: March 4 th (actual), January 28 th (for my health), February 6 th (for yours). On Tuesday, February 8, 2000, you decided you’d join us. At your own pace, in your own time; forty two hours of labor, most of it without great progression. Then from 4 to 10 in a hour and six pushes later, you arrived. I had not allowed myself to fall in love with you. The doctors told me that I carried antibodies that could cause your death if the pregnancy made it to 36 weeks. If . That was the word throughout the weeks you grew and developed. If you made it, if I made it, if my kidneys held out. They told me I wouldn’t get pregnant. I did. At week six they suggested I terminate when bloodwork came back showing more strikes against both of us. I refused. They were wrong. I decided, then and there, that they were wrong. That we’d make it. Together . Those days were not e
Read more