I used to go to my room to cry.
I would hold it together until I fixed a snack for one child, pulled down a toy for another, and assigned math pages to two more. Finally, with trembling lip, I’d hustle down the hallway to the privacy of my bedroom.
There, my God and my pillow absorbed the tears. Because someone called with bad news. Or I didn’t get my way in marriage. Because it was the wrong time of the month. Or mothering and homeschooling four kids was just plain lonely and hard. Continue reading
I entered the room and found her studying her reflection in the mirror, a girlish habit that sends up a maternal red-flag. “Do you like it, Mom?”
She was trying on a hand-me down dress given to her by an older friend. She tugged at the ill-fitting neckline and bodice; her body not yet the shape for its womanly cut.
I gotta give her credit. The girl dreams big.
And she’s a lot like me.
She pulled at the fabric and shifted her body until her reflection matched how she felt: bigger, older, and like someone else.
I’m honored to be featured at God Sized Dreams today. Please follow me there to read the rest of the story…
It’s called Five Minute Friday. Each week, we write for five minutes, freely, on a one-word prompt. We write quickly, then post, a flash-mob linking together
This week’s prompt: BREAK
When I was little, I wished I would break a bone. For real. I wished I had a fantastic story to tell about how I was rushed to the emergency room, about how the doctors weren’t sure they could fix me, and about how I was brave through it all. I actually prayed for it for a while, then I took matters into my own hands. Continue reading