When

In the month of October I will be linking up with other writers on Five Minute Friday for thirty-one days. Each day I will write about one word for five minutes. Here goes…

When I started writing, I was about fourteen years old. A young man I knew was killed in a car accident. Speeding and alcohol were part of the problem. I didn’t know how to express what it was like to know someone who died young, but I had to do something. What I wrote turned out to be something of free-verse poetry. I wrote some lines one day, and found something good in it. There was something satisfying in putting down my thoughts, and I never stopped.

If you ask anyone who writes if they want to quit, you ask them—when did you feel this way?

The answer could be any day of the week, all the time.  I am always second-guessing myself about why I write. When will I quit? Probably never, but it doesn’t mean that my writing will always be public.

Is it important to hear another voice out there among the millions? I ask myself if it really matters and sometimes it does. Sometimes I want to quit, but tomorrow I will feel differently.

Is there something you do to further God’s kingdom, but often grow weary?

When will you quit?

Don’t think about it today because tomorrow you may think differently.

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Ask

In the month of October I will be linking up with other writers on Five Minute Friday for thirty-one days. Each day I will write about one word for five minutes. Here goes…

The photo above is from many years ago at Summit Lake, on our son’s autumn birthday. It was rare time when birthdays were celebrated at the lake.

This is proof that children do help their parents with tasks related to home. I don’t remember asking two daughters to help me, but I know for a fact that many mothers avoid asking for help.

Both my grandmothers enjoyed doing all the cooking and baking alone, but I see such a wealth of knowing a person better when you work with them in the kitchen. Kitchens are places of safety and private talks are often held there. 

I learned how Grandma stretched the dough for apple strudel when I popped in one day while she was in the midst of it. That was better than coming and finding I missed out after it was already baked. I was able to peel and cut the apples.

Christ asked people many questions:

What do you want?

Do you want to be healed? 

Why do you worry about clothes?

Who do people say the son of man is?

What good thing must I do to get eternal life?

When the women were on the way to the grave of Christ, they asked…who is going to roll the stone away? But they still appeared.

The angel asked the women… why do you seek the living among the dead?

Asking questions is a good thing…it’s learning. Keep asking questions and God will give you answers.