Friends Far Away (Five Minute Friday Link Up)

Today I’m linking up with Lisa Jo Baker at Five Minute Friday where we write for only five minutes on a certain topic, no proofing, no editing, just raw writing.  Today we write about friends… and Go!

I love these ladies, I love this picture because it captures a moment when friendship went from screens to skin.

I love these ladies, I love this picture because it captures a moment when friendship went from screens to skin and kept growing.

I have often thought of making myself a friend map, at this point it would be a map of North America, but in the future?  who knows?

On it I would put a star for everywhere I have a friend, all these places I would like to visit and share a mug of coffee and a nice. long. chat.

The kind that gets away from you and you look at your phone and realize that you’ve been at it for over two hours.  Just laughing and catching up.  You haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet, the nitty gritty, the stuff you know you need to bear to a trusted friend.

In my dreams there’s this neighborhood where we all live together, borrowing cups of flour and going out for tuesday night trivia to the wine bar.  We have play dates and pop over to watch Grey’s Anatomy together, because it’s better than doing it alone.  I love TV and snark.

In this neighborhood we don’t ache for each other, we don’t count the miles and wish they were fewer.  But this dream neighborhood will always remain in my dreams.  I will always have friends scattered all across the country.

If I move closer to some I move farther away from others, always missing those who have moved their ways forever into my heart.  Right now I’m preparing to renter into my Michigan community and say goodbye to the Oklahoma group I’ve loved and done life with for the last five years.

And It’s ever so bittersweet.

And then there’s my online friends, like you probably.  I consider us friends, I mention you in conversation over dishes, and Kel goes.. who?  Because you haven’t had dinner at our table… Yet.

But I’m working, longing to change it, to meet you, to send you a real handwritten card.

Because my friends are all over and skin doesn’t dictate soul bearing.

And I need you all, skin, screens, cards, paper, friends.  Thank you you.  Thank you God.

Amen. Selah. The End.

Five Minute Friday: Remember

five minute friday

(Today I’m joining a group of beautiful writers who writer for five short minutes every friday on the same topic, sharing stories and life on topics created by the unflappable, amazing Lisa Jo Baker)

I’d spent the entire day working at the bank, with little to do, always staring at the clock, wishing it was time to go to my Doctor’s appointment.

And then your Dad and I met up at home and dashed off the the doctor for yet another non-stress test, sitting in a little closet of a room hooked up to monitors and watching the numbers on the screen go up and down, up and down.

They were high this time, so high, we asked the doctor to check on things and sure enough, you were ready to greet us. She was worried about your umbilical cord, so I was rushed to the hospital, no bag, no camera, all nerves and a few tears.

Everyone was in such a hurry and I was putting on my bravest face for them all.

mom and Noelle

The nurse who put in my IV missed, 5 times, stabbing me over and over in different spots. I tried my best to be gracious, but a repeated stabbing wasn’t exactly what I needed at that moment.

Then more needles, sedation and a rush into the delivery room. They cut an incision and tugged for a while until, even in my groggy drugged-up state I knew you were free of me.

But there was no cry, Your Dad and I looked at each other with worried, wondering eyes.  Why couldn’t we hear you?

He stood up to check and was yelled at by a nurse to sit down, they were trying to get you to breathe.  And then in one glorious moment, after what seemed like hours you cried for us and the rushed you away, apart from me for the first time.

I laid in the recovery room alone for an hour, thirsty for both water and my new family. 30324_507507430017_5851086_n

When I got back to the OB Floor I could see you in the window, naked and wiggly.  So many friends were there, excited for your Dad and I, but mostly about you.

They kept you behind that glass for a long time, far too long.  I got pissed, my mama bear coming out for the first time.

Then finally, hours later, we were reunited and I stared at you for weeks as we tried to learn each other, nursing, sleeping, snuggling and just gazing at those eyes we’d been waiting to see.

302118_524300840887_66769267_n And now in a flash, you’re a tall three year old, in size 6 clothes.  A tall, brown eyed beauty who’s never met a stranger.

And I love you, and we’re still learning each other.

And that Noelle is the story of the day we met, the day you were born.

 

 

 

 

 

Opportunity

Today I’m joining in the five minute friday conversation through the Gypsy Mama.  I have five minutes to write, start to finish on a selected topic.

“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 with gusto, unselfconscious and flat out.”

Me writing, all vulnerable in my worst PJ pants and no makeup sporting bed head. This photo was taken by my daughter, when I let her use my camera to capture the world from her perspective.

Today we write about Opportunity, so here I go, all heart, no editing.

They all head out the door, sippy cups in the side pocket of the bag and towels flowing over the sides.  Off to the splash pad, to WalMart and then home.  The door closes and here I sit with my chance, my two hours or so to write.

This is my opportunity to do the thing God put within me to do besides motherhood.  Two hours to say all that I’ve been longing to communicate for the past few days.

He left in a huff and me with a frown.

He’s leaving in 48 hours for a conference, and then when that door closes I’ll be 4 days a single parent, how do those women do it every day, month, year?  Every bath and diaper and meal all on me.  A part of me is at peace and then the other part is frustrated.  I love being a mother, in every way but somedays my career aspirations shout “Hey, what about me?”

I strive to die to myself, to serve those little ones and the bearded guy that I love down to an atomic level.

Yet, somewhere inside me there is a whisper, “You can serve others too, outside these walls, you have a story, you have hope, don’t give up, don’t quit, there is more for you”

And then I scream inside, “but when!  When is this moment?!”  It isn’t now, or if it is it’s only a few hours a week when I have the brain space to unblock my thoughts and let them become words to share.

It’s a season, whispers my Father, I give you everything you need to fulfill your purpose, grace for my timing beautiful daughter, breathe the air of my grace.

He’s leaving in 48 hours, we have only a little time left as a family, to laugh and part with hearts full of love.

I think I shall seize it.