Five Minutes: Tender

Each week Gypsy Mama chooses a word to write about for five minutes. No editing, stream of consciousness. Today's word is: Tender.

Ready. Set. Write.

Last night I was far from a tender soul. A long day at work, a mound of work ahead of me in the coming days and I was not my sweet, tender self. My friend, Amy, came over and she was also spent from the week. Bless her heart, due to the rain and barometric pressure, the beginnings of a migraine ensued. In the background, the TV was turned down as American Idol was playing. Amy left to go home to nurse her migraine and I replayed American Idol on my DVR.

Right before the end of the episode was a tender moment that made my heart gush. And, had we been paying attention, would have refreshed both of our souls had we watched it live. A young worship pastor at a church in Lakewood, Texas, was auditioning. He was born with no ears and his parents were told he'd never hear. After many trips to doctors and specialists, it was determined that he indeed did have ear drums. Many surgeries later he was blessed with reconstructed ears and now leads worship and sings. He auditioned with "Amazing Grace...my chains are gone...I've been set free...my God, my Savior, has ransomed me...and like a flood, His Mercy reigns...Amazing love....Amazing grace."

Tender moment I needed in the midst of a harsh cruel world.

Five Minutes: Vivid

Each week Gypsy Mama chooses a word to write about for five minutes. No editing, stream of consciousness. Today's word is: Vivid.

Ready. Set. Write.

Just saying the word vivid makes my eyes widen and brings happiness to my soul. As I've aged, or shall I say, matured, my love for the extraordinary, the non-normal, the things that make a statement fascinate and allure me.

Vivid colors. With as much humility as I can muster, I have to say that I look best when in the most vivid of colors. Bright pinks and purples, vivid tangerine and lime. Those colors make my best features pop. And what girl doesn't want her best features to pop.

Vivid memories. These aren't always joyous memories, but sometimes bring tears to my eyes. The vivid memory of our family's car accident when I was 7 years old. Awaking in the mangled car wondering if I was the only one alive and being just bruised and cut. The vivid smell of pigs in the field where our car landed. The vivid sound of the ambulance siren that came to get my Mom and save her life. The vivid memory of contemplating my death and realizing my personal need for a Savior to have eternal life.

Vivid. You bring the good and the bad, and your bring it loudly. I long for those vivid moments that fill my heart with joy.

Lessons Learned from Clouds and Sheep

I've become an avid fan of phone games. You know, those apps you can download on your smartphone for free or 99 cents and become the time suckers we love to hate. A month or so ago, I downloaded a game called "Clouds and Sheep" and I fell in love.

You are given a flock of the cutest little sheep to care for. You feed them, give them water and when they are happy they jump up and little stars appear that you collect to buy them food and drink. You can play with the sheep to make them happier - make them jump, roll them by pulling their little tails - and in higher levels you get props to use to play with like bouncing balls and trampolines. And, when a boy sheep and girl sheep eat flowers, they get amorous and then cuddle up and a red heart floats to the sky into a cloud and down plops a baby lamb! But, the catch of the game is to keep the sheep happy and fed...not too cold or too hot. And keep them from eating poisonous mushrooms that can be fatal. As your flock grows it's hard to keep every sheep healthy and happy, and sometimes they die...by flipping over and floating up into a cloud from whence they came.

This game is somewhat reminiscent of that tamagotchi pet I used to carry around and care for. As the "shepherd" I see the challenges, even though virtual, in keeping the flock focused. Every time one of those mushrooms pop up, a sheep always heads straight to it. Even though they've seen other friends suffer the demise from the consequences of digesting the fungus. It made me think about what the Bible says about Jesus being our Good Shepherd. We are like sheep that have gone astray and boy, are sheep dumb. No matter how many times the Shepherd nudges us with His Staff to comfort us or move us in the right direction, we'll always go back to those "mushrooms" in life that cause us distress.

Silly games like this seem pointless until you learn valuable lessons for everyday living. Whenever I kill a poisonous mushroom, or care for a wandering sheep, I'm reminded how my Good Shepherd never tires of caring for me.

Five Minutes: Awake

Each week Gypsy Mama chooses a word to write about for five minutes. No editing, stream of consciousness. Today's word is: Awake.

Ready. Set. Write.

I am not a morning person. Oh how I wish I was. I admire those folks who pop out of bed every morning all cheery and chipper without the ingesting of any sort of caffeine product. Sadly, I am a friend of the snooze button and immense amounts of legally-addictive stimulants.

When the morning breaks, it is as if the word 'awake' appears spread across the sun. Darkness is not a companion of awake, though I find myself awake many nights way past sundown. There is something about being awake in the dark that just doesn't seem right. When the sun is shining, life is brighter, the world is awake with life.

We walk in a world of darkness. Those that aren't awake to the truth. They live with a false knowledge of what is true and though they may live in the shadow of the bright sun, they do not find themselves ever at the feet of the Son. And when I cling to Jesus in the bright times or dark times, then is when I find myself the most awake.

Five Minutes: Roar

Each week Gypsy Mama chooses a word to write about for five minutes. No editing, stream of consciousness. Today's word is: Roar.

Ready. Set. Write.

When the women's liberation movement became popular, there was a phrase and accompanying song that was shouted from the rooftops by women across the nation..."I am woman, hear me roar." I was a young lioness when that battle cry was born, so I wasn't really aligned with any side at the time. Now that I am full-grown woman, I can say that the women's lib movement has messed things up for me.

I don't want to roar. I want to purr. I am an independent career woman who provides for myself, but at the end of the day, I want to be the woman behind the man...not roaring at him, but loving him and following his strong lead. Being single, I have to be independent, but frankly, there are days when it's no fun. For all that the freedom flag-waving women did in the 70s, I'm now hard pressed to find a man who hasn't been maimed by a hardcore woman who roared, devoured him, chewed him up and spit him out. Many would say that a man can't lead so we're not going to follow him. Maybe that's because you haven't allowed him to lead. Or maybe that's because we've emasculated our men so much they aren't willing to take a stand to lead.

I prefer to sing the phrase, "I am woman, get my door." Chivalry, please do not die.