Five Minute Friday (on Sunday): Write

“Write,” says the Friday prompt, neglected until today.

Should I write the color of a clear winter sky? The color of hope deferred?

Should I write of Charles Dickens and the birthday he deigns to share with me?

Should I write the feeling of so-many-thank-yous to people who didn’t have to type “Happy Birthday” but did it anyway?

Should I write the sound of bowling balls careening down shiny-waxed lanes?

Should I write the flavor of February strawberries, imported from somewhere sunny?

Should I write the scent of wood-smoke, of peppermint lip-balm, of chocolate cake?

Should I write white herons standing in the remnant of a diverted river, mingled voices tracing melodies by Mendelssohn, people who love me when I’m feeling blue and unwillingly old-maidish, and a God whose promise to withhold no good thing is true no matter how many years I wonder?

A list of questions for the five minutes, and, in the past-five-minutes, quotations:

“I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer. Before your face questions die away. What other answer would suffice?” –C. S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces

“As for me, I shall behold Your face in righteousness;
I will be satisfied with Your likeness when I awake.”
–Psalm 17:15

Thanks, Lisa-Jo!

©2014 by Stacy Nott

3 thoughts on “Five Minute Friday (on Sunday): Write

  1. Captain Thornton says:

    Psalm 20 has been a recurring encouragement for me this last year.
    But a mysterious one.
    David writes

    “The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble;
    the name of the God of Jacob defend thee;
    send thee help from the sanctuary,
    and strengthen thee out of Zion;
    remember all thy offerings,
    and accept thy burnt sacrifice; Selah.
    Grant thee according to thine own heart,
    and fulfill all thy counsel.
    We will rejoice in thy salvation,
    and in the name of our God we will set up our banners:
    the Lord fulfill all thy petitions”

    • Thanks, Zach! There seems to be a relationship between mystery and comfort. It makes me think of something I read in Chesterton last year, about the Trinity:

      “Suffice it to say that this triple enigma is as comforting as wine and open as an English fireside; that this thing that bewilders the intellect utterly quiets the heart.”

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