On Fridays around these parts we stop, drop, and write.
We pour out our hearts and souls to write. We write bold and beautiful and free. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not. Because, don't you know, it is what is on the inside that counts the most!
Won’t you join us?
1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link over at The Gypsy Mama and invite others to join in.
3. Most importantly: leave a comment for the person who linked up before you – encouraging them in their writing!
OK, are you ready? Give me your best five minutes on:
When my children were little, we used to play catch, nice and slow, rolling the ball back and forth in simple, easy movements. Sometimes, they would get overly excited and throw the ball at me, thinking I could catch it, only to have it fly out of reach. Those sweet, little, chubby legs would run fast through the grass until they could get the ball for me, and our game would resume.
As they got a little bit bigger, throwing the ball replaced the nice easy movements of our "catch" game. Now we wore mitts upon our hands to protect them from the sting. The ball started out slow, with simple, underhanded pitches. Gradually getting faster and faster, until I found times when I could not catch the ball at all. It would go sailing right over my head, and my child would run quickly to retrieve it, laughing all the while at the klutz that his mother had become.
Soon, I found myself relegated to the sidelines, watching with the other parents, as my children far surpassed my meager skills. I learned that cheering could be just as exciting as catching. Screaming their names out loud for all to hear and going hoarse in the excitement of the game. Hoping that they could see and know how proud I am of them and their abilities. Oh, I learned to love the watching.
Today, I find myself once again catching. My grandchildren have come into my life and brought me back to the slow, easy days of rolling and catching and missing and running. The movements aren't quite so comfortable anymore, but I find my love for the game has only increased with the march of time.
Now I see how fast the moments go, and how soon this phase will end. I see that catching is all an exercise in living. Catching is part of holding and loving and knowing. Catching is breathing it all in and feeling the love grow in nice, slow, easy and oh so caught in my heart, moments.
Now it is your turn. Hope to see you over at the Gypsy Mama's with your own words of wisdom on Catch.