Real-Life Mother Hubbard, Sans Shoe

Ernest Hemingway could tell a story, in six words:

"For Sale. Baby Shoes. Never Worn."

I'm challenged to do the same, in hopes of winning a scholarship to the She Speaks 2011 conference.  I am a woman of many words, but six well-placed ones?  Tell a story, elicit emotion... with just six?

Oh, there are just so many options.  I could tell innumerable stories in six words, but... which to tell?  My story?  Let's see.  Any of these would suffice:

- She didn't sign up for this. 

- A one-woman Marco Polo game

- Real-life Mother Hubbard, sans shoe.

- Need me?  I'll be folding laundry.

- Broken. Divorced. Abandoned. Emptied. Sanctified. Redeemed.

- A River in a Paper Cup
- Learning to love a Divine assignment.
- Inspired to count gifts, discover joy.
 
 

Or how about...

-Ten kids.  Little sleep.  Send help.

-or-

- Kids need to eat every day?

I kid, I kid.

On a serious note, how about...

She bowed lower and thusly... soared.

Check out the other entries, or tell your own here at the She Reads blog. 

Tell me, what's your six-word story?

Earth Worms and Love-Nourishment

Boys in rubber boots and tennis shoes dig deep and labor long.  The too-hot spring sun hovers close, warming and drying the dirt as they dig and till, rake and hoe.  Making room for seeds, perfecting the conditions for growth, hoping hard for first a bud and then a leaf, making way for rich taste, patience for slow growth that eventually produces delicious nourishment, even as the hawk circles nervous overhead.  They break the ground in rows and then pockets for tiny seeds, side by side, and add water.  Add sweat and sunshine.  Add hope and trust in the magic that happens below the dirt, the creation of something wonderful where once there was nothing. This is what it means to garden.

 

And this is what it means to grow.

The ground is hard and so is breaking through.  Our hearts are tangled up like seeds under dirt mounds of rocks and grubs and squirmy crickets and sin and doubt.   

Our Creator tills the soil within, and He labors hard even as we labor hard to grow, first a bud and then a leaf, pushing through the rocky, sin-laced dirt, our own heart’s soil rich now with tears and sun and the hope that we, too, will blossom beautiful, that we will grow and be love-nourishment to this world, ravenous and emaciated, starved for delicious Truth.  That our delicate blooms will display the miracle of the magic that happens below the dirt, within.
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Note:  Creating is what puts me in touch with the Creator.  Crafting words, spilling all the tales that make up the journey He takes me on... this is where I am the me I was made to be, where I overflow with all the graces and all the gifts.  Along that journey, I've found so much encouragement in the ministry and open hands of some like-minded and full-hearted ladies at Proverbs 31 Ministries.  Every summer, they host an absolutely incredible conference, She Speaks, which is invaluable to everyone blessed enough to be there.  A fellow writer and beautiful word-crafter, Ann Voskamp (who wrote the amazing and life-altering book One Thousand Gifts) is hosting a scholarship opportunity on her blog, A Holy Experience.