It's that time again. One week has passed and in the midst of email writing, journaling, reading, sermonating, and reflecting, it's time for Five Minute Friday. Thanks to Lisa-Jo Baker and her blog:
It's that time to join with others from across the US to turn off the inner critique, doubts, and the fear and to just write. So here it goes:
My dog and I seem to have an affinity for the same view in the house. We both find ourselves gazing out the back sliding door. Whether it's raining. Or snowing. Or sunny. Or a so-cold-you-can-barely manage-to-run-from-your-car-and-back kind of day.
We both look out and take in the beauty of our home.
Our dining room table has doubled as the work table. Amid our table cloth and fading flowers and unopened mail, I turn to my right and am blinded by the light of day. During the summer the neighbor works in the garden. The corn grows and grows. In the fall the neighborhood's leaves find their way into our yard. And then comes the burning of the leaves and the haze that covers the town. The snow and ice have come now since winter.
And I continue to look out.
Yet, some things remain the same. The church steeple and cross stand tall - a beacon of hope and life. The random cats still manage to find their way to our yard and torment the dog. I hear the church bells toll at 8 and noon and again at 6. The children come to the playground.
I look out and I see a neighborhood. Our neighborhood. Our home.
I see a life brimming with holiness.