Linking up again over at Lisa-Jo Baker's blog for Five Minute Friday. She explains it like this: On Fridays around these parts we like to write. Not for comments or traffic or anyone else’s agenda. But for pure love of the written word. For joy at the sound of syllables, sentences and paragraphs all strung together by the voice of the speaker.
We love to just write without worrying if it’s just right or not. For five minutes flat.
Today's prompt: beloved.
I sit here, fingers poised over the keys, ready to pour out my heart about how much I love my daughter, but all I can see are their faces. The lost and the broken. The one-armed beggar who asked me for a gift this morning and the albino twins, sitting on the dirty sidewalk while mama's strong fingers pulled their yellow hair into neat plaits. The baby with a cleft lip and round, unscarred cheeks, their perfection speaking only to rejection, to a father who wasn't sure he wanted to call the baby his own.
I shake as I remember holding tiny bodies in my arms, weeping hot tears over lives cut short by poverty and disease and not enough of everything that matters when it comes to keeping you alive past your first birthday. My heart is clenched tight behind my ribs when I think of how I've loved and had to let them go.
And it is nothing. Nothing compared to the way He loves.
Where I see pale, mottled skin or a missing limb, He sees His beloved, loves them with a love fierce enough to set the world on fire. A love strong enough to tear the sun from the sky and constant enough to bring it back three hours later when the worst was over.
I think of the overwhelming, all-consuming love I feel for my child and I'm thrown to my knees when I realize that my love is a single drop in the ocean of His.
Beloved. Me and you and the babies in the ward and the beggars in the street, and not because of anything we've done or anything we haven't. Beloved.