Friday, February 1, 2013

Fridays are for writing ...

... so let's get to it!

Today's prompt is a whim of Simple, and it might be painful.  Stick with me, though.  It will be worth it!

Take a few minutes to write about a time when you had to get rid of something. Carbs. Clutter. Weeds. Whatever you forced yourself to remove from your life, for better or worse.  Try to pay particular attention to sensory details.  How did it feel, look, taste, smell, sound?  What happened once it was gone? Spend at least 15 minutes, and continue as you have time. [BIC, Friends - for how else does writing happen?]

photo credit: Richard Day, National Geographic

Share it in the comments below or on your own blog, with the post link in a comment.  If the latter, please consider including this link back here to the nest in your post.

"How can I tell what I think till I see what I say?" - E.M. Forster (in Writing with Style by John R. Trimble)

"He cuts off every branch of mine that doesn’t produce fruit, and he prunes the branches that do bear fruit so they will produce even more." -John 15:2 (NLT)


  1. I entered into a journey. I decided to prune myself of all the anger, bitterness, resentment, and unforgiveness that I had. It is scary because those things can feel very good to hang onto. The pull of those feelings are strong, and make one feel powerful. In the end, they sweep you away, drown you and leave you exhausted trying to break the surface. You gasp for air, trying to breathe in joy, but have the air cut off, and your lungs filled with cement.

    Feelings are a powerful thing. They can blind you, fill you, leave you empty, and take you under. I can be blinded by whats before me, only seeing the thoughts playing through my head. My stomach will knot, I will feel nauseated, my heart races, the air feels thick and hot, but my body feels cold. I am scared. Scared to move on from what I know, but terrified to be stuck in the past. I'm unsure of how to let go of everything, but don't know how to take the next step.

    I purge myself through tears and crying out to Abba. My father. My protector. My rescuer. My healer. Like a baby taking their first few wobbly steps, I'm shaken. Can I trust Him to catch me if I fall? Am I beyond His grace, or redemption? Will He catch me?

    I find that, while all of those feelings aren't gone, my bag is becoming lighter. I'm able to carry it better. I'm able to stop a person from putting another rock in there and weighing me down.

    It's slow... it's progress.

    1. Very powerful, Jamie. Thank you for your tender vulnerability. I'm so thankful to know your Protector-Rescuer-Healer too.

    2. So glad you and I have met