Story Time

I usually write on Fridays but, my computer was acting wonky yesterday.  It wouldn’t let me write without freezing up. That is not unusual, as my laptop is probably in its final days. Sigh.

 

So anyway……

 

I am attempting to type up my blog entry from yesterday. Slowly but surely.

 

On Lisa-Jo’s Five Minute Friday, the word was:  STORY

 

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English: Picture of an open book, that does no...

 

 

 

Everyone has a story.  I love to listen to stories…finding out about people,

 

how they got to be where they are…

 

and how they got to be who they are.

 

Chapters of interesting and not so interesting dialogue.

 

All stories pretty much start out the same way.  A baby, new to this world. Starting out fresh.

 

The pages of the story clean and crisp.

 

Then life happens. Pages sometimes get torn. Soiled by the day to day. Bent and dog-earred.

 

Highlighted and underlined. Pages memorized and other parts scribbled through.

 

Stained from chocolate fingers and stained from falling tears.

 

Happy parts and silly parts and sad parts and terrible parts.

 

The story continues on.

 

The chapters grow.

 

Until that last moment when the book is closed.

 

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Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.  Lamentations 3:22-23  NIV

 

 

 

 

 

o, now be brave, set your timer, clear your head, for five minutes of free writing without worrying about getting it right.

OK, are you ready? Please give us your best five minutes on the word:::

Story…

GO

– See more at: http://lisajobaker.com/#sthash.tkI7zV4Z.dpuf

 

 

So, now be brave, set your timer, clear your head, for five minutes of free writing without worrying about getting it right.

OK, are you ready? Please give us your best five minutes on the word:::

Story…

GO

– See more at: http://lisajobaker.com/#sthash.tkI7zV4Z.dpuf

This Mom Of Mine

 

Five Minute Friday with Lisa-Jo at Tales from a Gypsy Mama.102_3854

Today’s your turn. What did your mama do that makes her your mama? Let’s unpack those memories today.

Where is your memory buried?

In just five minutes. Tell me all about what your mama did that made her yours…

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Elementary school pictures with crooked bangs, cut by a mother who with “just one more snip” thought she could straighten them out. I look back at my pictures and have to smile. My mom was good at fixing things and making me feel better. ( I was high fashion style before it was even in style:)

My mom, worried that my neck was swollen…taking me to the doctor to find out why. Holding my teenage hand, when I was scared. Telling me that thyroid disease was going to be taken care of with some medicine.

She took care of me during my bout with mono my senior year, helped get me to and from my job at the Dry Cleaners, was a huge help when filling out applications for college, sat through Lyric theater performances, encouraged me in my goal to graduate with a degree in Special Education. She went with me through the winding mountains of east Tennessee to help me move to the little town that held the first school I ever taught at.

Laughter, tears, joy, pain. Uphill battles and marathon races. Arguments and big, fat, honkin’ mistakes. Lots and lots of memories. My mom is strong and brave and smart and I know this about her. She stepped out and changed her life when it wasn’t easy. She figured things out as she went. She taught my younger sister and I that we could do anything. We were smart and strong and beautiful. She endowed me with a healthy self confidence that as I look back over the years– has served me well. She always made me feel special and loved, and is there anything better than that?

There are always times though, no matter how confident, that I need encouragement. My mom has been and still is my biggest encourager. Her cards, letters, and emails always seem to come just when I need them the most. Her words make me feel better.

Encouragement, it is her gift really.

She is a gift.

And I love her, this mom of mine.