What a strange week. But I am managing to publish a Five Minute Friday post. It’s a little longer than normal, thanks to more time. I’ll link at Kate’s place on Facebook at  http://www.fiveminutefriday.com and scan through the incredible work of my fellow writers. As I always say, you should try it as well — both writing and contributing or at least visiting the sites of this talented crew.

I’ve also been sharing other takes on the value of the exercise, taken from snippets found in Five Minute Friday: A Collection of Stories Written in Five Minutes Flat as an added inducement to join in. Here’s Catherine’s take.

“Five Minute Friday is so much fun!! But more than that, it inspires me write words that otherwise wouldn’t have been written.”

The timer is set for the prompt, PAUSE. GO …

Be still and know that I am God.

That’s not so hard, is it? I mean you periodically become still and just relish in the knowledge God is in control.

Okay, most of the time, the Spirit’s directions are taken more as suggestions. I’ll admit it. I’ve been known to drive “just a few more miles” or spend just another “few” minutes on the computer or take an impromptu trip — without family and friends’ knowledge — to my “center place.” {That’s why the kids loaded Life 360 on my devices.}

And then there are times when the Spirit just puts up a wall and when nose come to brick — PAUSE. CLICK.

That’s what happened to me this week. I really don’t remember anything from Thursday and Friday. I only remember laying in bed out-dogging Angelina to see who could catch the most zzzz. I think I won. I did move sometime Friday from the bed to the recliner, more for a change in scenery than anything else. … STOP

To be fair, I thought the whole exhaustion was allergy related. It is, after all, May. But my non-professional friends were quick to point out fever doesn’t usually accompany allergies. They were sure it was — is — a cold, which in itself would be quite an accomplishment since I haven’t had a “cold” in almost a year. Beside, there was no congestion, no drip, no cough. Strike two against the “cold” diagnosis. I did get some good suggestions — including drinking whiskey — but I literally was too weak to meander my way from the bedroom to the pantry for a swig. And I had a headache that just wouldn’t quit. Oh, they did suggest I seek professional help [??? don’t these people know me ???], although I’m not sure they were talking about medical professionals or mental professionals. The jury is still out on that.

That would have been the end of the story except this morning I awoke with a burning rash on my foot — my good foot. Since I have a history of cellulitis, my money has crossed the table. I am filling the pulpit tomorrow, so I’ve scheduled an ER visit tomorrow after church. Unless things take a dramatic shift in a positive way.

I haven’t hit the wall too many times in my life, but as I look back at each one, there was a recurring theme of being still and knowing God. But this one has been different. In retrospect I could easily figure out those messages. I have no idea what the Spirit is trying to say, why and why now.

In my 30 hour stupor, there were no burning bushes, no parting sea [although the background white noise of the river was soothing], no neon lights to tell me to pay attention. Just quite, snuggled under a couple of blankets, sweating like a Memorial Day piglet EXCEPT

In my book, Heaven Shining Through, my heroine Sam blurts out through teary eyes, “Dr. Walker gave us six month. I had gotten sixteen days.”

She hit the wall. PAUSED. CLICK.

If you read the book or are planning on reading it, that’s the one phrase that immediately jumped out at me. In fact it’s one of the few phrases I readily remember … and I wrote the book!

And I felt guilty. My Five Minute Friday friend Andrew Andrew Budek-Schmeisser
blessed-are-the-pure-of-heart.blogspot.com is going through the final phases of pancreatic cancer and is in constant pain. Other friends have lost loved ones — children, parents, close friends. In my stupor I felt I wasn’t there for them, helping them cross that wide, wide River Jordan.

And I completely lost track of time. In those two days, Trump’s summit with Un was cancelled {although it might once again be revised} the Yankees fell out of first place {when I went to sleep Wednesday night they were a half game behind Boston, but their W-L percentage was slightly higher than the hose. And I received 353 e-mails {???}.

With my headache subsiding {thanks coffee} and  a somewhat clearer head, I tried to cipher the cryptic message.

“[I] was promised …” and “…and I had gotten sixteen days.”

Truth be known, we are only promised two breaths — our first and our last. So it is all so important to savor each one, each memory, the good and the bad, each experience, the good and the bad. The good ones lift us up. The bad ones make us stronger.

“… and I had gotten sixteen days.”

We don’t know if it’s 16 days or 16 hours or 16 years.

I hope when I hit that final wall — PAUSE. CLICK. — I will know I did my best live each and every moment. And I pray the same for you.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Slow down. Take a deep breath. Absorb your surrounding. Take time to observe.