five-minute friday: true

On Fridays, a bunch of brave writers gather over at Lisa-Jo Baker's blog, to all spend 5 collective minutes writing on a single prompt. You can check out her blog for info on how it works and then consider giving it a go yourself! Five minutes. No self-editing. Just real stuff. So here I am for this week's post, writing on true. .......................................

five-minute friday: true || sarah writes || sarahsandel.com

True is the sticky floors and water spots and random baby items strewn across a dining room floor that is still not back in place from the gatherings over the weekend. True is babbling and whining and frustration and dirty diapers. True is there is "pain in childbirth", even for the adoptive mama. Labor is ongoing.

True is the mister on the phone at work, really just in the other room. True is the just-barely-what-we-need provision from that job and true is the "I was made for something different than this" of his every day. True is not enough time and true is not enough time together. True is disagreements in the kitchen at 10pm and making up via text message when we are on the clock.

True is dirty hair and piles of laundry and insecurities as big as my fat pants and wondering when I will "have it together". True is my tiredness and dark under eye circles and another load of dishes in the sink and leftover pasta...how many ways can I make pasta exciting before it's just done?

True is that those things don't have the final say.

Because what is absolute is that it's a happy baby who throws those things across the dining room floor in search of the right necklace to wear and the right blanket for her baby. It's a wise and patient husband who sits behind the computer in the office, providing for his family in ways he never planned to, but in ways which honor the Lord. And it's a humbly grateful mama who types at this screen during naptime, thankful for small quiet, big piles of laundry that say we're clothed, dirty dishes that remind me we're fed, and sticky floors that point me to the reality of our spacious home ... each are gifts, and each more true than the other trues.