Yes! I’m back to 5 minute Fridays, and I can’t tell you how excited I am! It’s good to be back! And this week’s topic is just so apt for me!
Every Friday Lisa-Jo at Gypsy Mama, give us a topic to write about for 5 mins, no over-thinking, no editing, just writing for 5 mins. The aim is to set your timer, clear your head, for five minutes of free writing without worrying about getting it right.
There are just 3 rules They are:
1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..
So here we go, this weeks topic is…
Change and I are not strangers. We’ve known each other for quite some time now, I was a mere two years of age when Change came into my life, forcing its way in, fiercely touching each and every aspect of my life, and refusing to leave. In fact, Change and I have known each other longer than I have known any other person, apart from the woman who bore me of course. Yet, even after all these years, Change and I have not become friends. I curse her, and I try to hide from her. She, in return, always seeks me out, thumps me on the back and scratches at my heart. Change forces me to do things I’d really rather not, I weep and cry at her to relent, but she never does. She is so persistent and aggressive, and yet, despite her violent nature, such good comes from her. I resist, and she pulls, I weep and cling, and she cheers and me pushes forward, I try to remain oblivious and she forces me to open my eyes. I’ve learnt Change will always be in my life, the cardboard boxes, the packing up, the flying-half-way-across-the-world, the unpacking and greeting new faces, all that ensures Change will always stick with me. Change never says goodbye, and Change never leaves.
I’ll never be friends with Change, but I’ve learnt to embrace her for what she brings me. Change will never be friends with me, for she’s always moving me on, but she’s learnt to see the potential in me. Change and I, we’ve learnt to live in an awkward harmony, never strangers, yet never friends.
Why don’t you join in too? And Don’t forget to link up to Lisa-Jo’s page.
She wrote me an email, well she wrote us an email, close friends and relatives all included; I really wasn’t very interested, it seemed long and things I knew she would soon recount to me over skype. I decided to save it till another day.
The “nother” day arrived. To read her familiar words was good, but over all I wasn’t that interested in the content. I sat there reading it emotionless. Emotionless that is until that one line, the line about a neighbor delivering a home-cooked meal upon their arrival home after a long journey, and the many text messages received welcoming them home. Suddenly my heart was aching and the tears were streaming. Such love and community demonstrated.
I miss that level of community. To really “do life” together. To be helped without having to ask. To be planned for even in your absence. To be showered in love and provision when you least expect.
Isn’t that what community is all about? To be sharing honestly and openly. To be living so closely no-one has to ask for help, the need is simply seen and tended to. To be loved when you’re least deserving. To care for others even when it doesn’t fit neatly into your schedule, to be aware at all time, to be fully in each moment, to fill the gap whether we feel like it or not. To support one another, to love each other, to be fully engaged in each others lives, to be there, and be all there. When it comes easily, and when we have to work hard at it.
All of the time.
What is your experience of community?
What do you think true community consists of?
I knelt in front of the pew hands clasped together resting on the prayer stand before me, head bowed, eyes closed. Tourists in the background chattering in their many languages. I felt a stir behind me, and then next me, I felt him kneel down beside me, and I was aware of him assuming the same position as me and so many around me.
I opened my eyes and looked up at the alter, I made my final plea, and I recited the Lord’s Prayer. It seemed an appropriate thing to do in a building of such heritage, that has stood for so many years, and seen so many people of faith, and of none, walk its floors; so many people, with such religious authority stand before the alter. I finished and made the sign of the cross on my body – head, chest, shoulder to shoulder. My brief spell in Catholic school had taught me well.
I glanced over to the left, where I had felt that man kneel beside me. I looked at his hands first, old and worn, his skin dark and full of wrinkles, I looked at his clothes, humble and nondescript. My eyes traveled upward to his face, I saw his eyes tightly shut and his brow furrowed with creases so deep. Great desperation and intent were written across his face. I witnessed the tears roll down his cheeks, his shoulders slightly shaking. He sensed my movement and glanced up and me, his old eyes met my young ones and I wondered what they must have witnessed in his many years of life, his gaze lowered once more and his lips started forming soundless words. My heart melted.
I inched my knees closer to him and my hand met his, he grasped it and squeezed it. In that place together, we prayed, him knowing what for, and me just praying sensing his burden.
There in that moment we met, old and young, cultures a world apart, strangers, yet family in Christ. I saw how big and how strong this family is that I am a part of, how real it is, and how no matter what separates us, and how unknown we are to each other, still we are family, and still in those moments our hearts can beat as one. And together, as brother and sister we sit at the feet of our dad and tell him and show him what’s going on in our hearts, and together we feel his embrace.
Strangers yet family.