Today is Five Minute Friday with Lisa-Jo! Our topic is Race, and we’re writing for five minutes without interruption, edits, or worries. Will you join us?

Last year I ran a race. It was a long race. It was a hard race. There were a lot of hills.

I trained for months, running up and down streets, pushing to go longer and harder. On race day I didn’t stop once.

When I crossed the finish line, and I put on the brakes allowing my legs to stop, they could barely hold me up. They wobbled, and I remembered when Bambi first stood up to walk.

I gasped for air and immediately tears began streaming down my face. I couldn’t believe it was over. I made it. The finish line was now behind me.

In two short weeks from today (according to the calendar) I will run a race of a different kind. But this one will not end as quickly. It will continue for the continuation of my life and then even further, into eternity. And the prize of the finish line will come before I even begin running – in the form of a baby.

Of course the first hill will no doubt be the most difficult – physically – as I push this new life out into the world – unmedicated and in water. But that will only be the beginning. The first hill.

As I look at the race I am about to begin – the race of motherhood – I feel much less prepared than I did last year running that race on asphalt and concrete. This race I didn’t really prepare for. I didn’t really know how.

So then, is this really a race at all, or more of a ride? A ride of a lifetime with ups and downs and curves and detours. A ride with Someone else steering the train. Someone else carrying me to places I am unprepared to go?

I think it has to be.

For this race will not end. And my legs will not be able to sustain me. My Someone, my Savior, will have to carry me. I’ll just enjoy the ride.

What race are you running right now?  

Five Minute Friday is here again. We write for five minutes on a given topic. The difference? We write from our souls where’s there’s no worry or correcting or contemplating. It is Lisa-Jo’s idea, and she writes here. Will you join us? Today’s topic is Welcome.

Welcome to this world, little baby girl. Welcome to this place prepared just for you. Welcome to the wood and brick built up to keep you safe and sound. Welcome in, to the love, that these walls witnessed before you were known.

Welcome to a calling that you will one day know. A special purpose laid in your bones before time here began.

Welcome to a life that’s beauty covers its muddle. A life that’s confusion has peace only through a Savior.

Welcome to the mystery. The mystery we contemplate each day of why we’re here, what we’re doing, and what this all means.

Welcome to your adventure. One that must be lived. The days of fall and days of triumph. Days that will prepare you.

Welcome to salvation. Our only hope of getting through and to a place of Glory.

Welcome in, to the Love, the only Love, that will carry you.

What are you welcoming today? 

It’s Five-Minute Friday! Where we write for five minutes on a certain topic without fretting or correcting. Today I reflect on my last month of pregnancy. It’s been a smooth one, so for me it’s bitter-sweet. I grasp at these last days. Will you join me?

It’s a funny thing, really. For eight months since I looked down and saw proof of your presence on that little-plastic-stick I have prepared to meet you.

I’ve read. I’ve decorated. I’ve shopped. I’ve prayed.

Now with only one month left to go I grasp at every last moment. Wondering when will be the last time I feel your kicks inside of me. The last time I have you this close.

Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait to see your face. To see your daddy and me all mixed up in you. I can’t wait to feel your skin and soothe your cries.

But when I let you loose you’ll be loose forever. No longer tucked safe. No longer protected from this big world out here.

And then I will grasp for different things.

For your protection, your health, and your love for Jesus.

Once you’re released from me know that I will still always be here. As if you never left. You will never have to grasp for me.

So today I grasp for each movement you make, each response you give, each sign that you are still with me. And I try my best to hold on.

Because soon you will be in my arms.

What are you grasping today?