Tuesday, January 17, 2012


Instrumental music sweetly floating through the speakers
Sirens urgently screaming out on the street
Life is full of the sweetly floating and the urgently screaming
Each wanting my attention
Each pulling me

Excuse me, can anyone help?
Help figure out which parts of the sweetly floating
and the urgently screaming
I should combine to have a well ordered life? 

Only I can decide to which I will attend
How much each will have my ear, my voice, my heart  and my time
My life will reflect those choices
I will become the sum of those choices
I must choose wisely

Friday, January 6, 2012

Roar {5 minute Friday}

Its Friday and one of my favorite things in the blogosphere...5 Minute Friday over at The Gypsy Mama. Where we set a timer, write for 5 minutes on a specific topic with no rewrites, no edits. Just words pouring from our hearts through our fingers onto the screen. Sometimes its raw, oftentimes poignant, always a good exercise. 

The Prompt:  Roar

I hear it.
Behind me.
Stealth as it creeps.

I freeze. 
Trying  to still the drum of my heart as it pounds in my chest.

 Don’t breathe, Molli. 
Be still, Molli. 
Maybe it will go away. 
Dear Lord, make it go away. 

It creeps closer.
 Even closer, until I can smell its vile breath as it exhales.
 I stand frozen.
Unable to move.
Certain that it is about to envelope me.

It does.
With a mighty roar, I am immersed in fear.

And I fall to my knees as I am powerless to fight it.
 I whisper a faint prayer to my Father.
He is able to conquer all fear. 

He comes. 
He comes with an even greater and mightier roar.
My Savior and Redeemer comes.
He roars and fear is gone. 

Oh, how I love His roar.
Roar over me, Jehovah God.
Roar around me.
Roar through me.
Let me reverberate with the presence of your roar.



In which I admit what a coward I really am

Just WOW!

I will celebrate my 55th birthday this year.

Scary stuff.

And this year, this mid-way-from 50-to-60 year, I am choosing to dare a bit more. Not to cling so tightly to the things that are certain and take a few risks. To be a bit more vulnerable.  It makes my heart beat faster just to type those words.

My blood pressure is going up by the moment.

When I was in my 30s, I used to admire women who had attained the 50+ year status. I noticed that they seemed to have a secret.  That they seemed more self assured.  Sort of like they had already had so much of the rotten stuff of life thrown at them that they knew...they recognized...they were aware of what was really important.

I was in awe.

Now that I am there, firmly anchored in the middle of my 50s decade and I wonder how I missed having that sort of self assurance.  Because I am still as full of self doubt and insecurity as I ever was. 

I thought it would just come to me. 
That it was in the vitamins I take now
that I am a woman over 50.
It has not.

When I was in college...back in my 30s (I can't seem to do anything the normal way), I had a professor who would write the scariest notes on my essays.  He told me that my ideas and arguments were good and sound.  He challenged me, however, to let go of whatever it was I was holding onto, to release my reserve. 

Ha!  I wasn't about to let go.  Life was dangerous then.

I AM, however, going to try.

I don't feel very big today.
I feel little and forlorn and afraid.

I have a wonderful new blog space.  The design is just beautiful and I think it suits me.  It is pristine and waiting for words and pictures.  And I'm sitting on it, because I'm afraid I will somehow manage to mess it up.  That it won't soar and that it will be just one more place that I give most of what I have to offer, but leave a portion behind...safely held close behind a quickly flashed smile and a smart remark. Which is my favorite mask.

I'm scared and I feel guilty
for having such a beautiful design
and not doing anything with it.
I feel unworthy.

I'm still not sure when I'm going to sully the beautiful virtual home with my messy self, but it is going to be soon.  Very soon.  Well, sometime in the next month or so.  Maybe.  And I'm going to a blog conference in February.  To see how to do it right.  I want to do it right. 

Quite frankly, I am going to procrastinate a little longer.
I do that very well.

In the meantime, I'm going to put myself out there. 

I dabble in poetry.  I seldom/never show anyone what I write.  Really.  When I die, my children will probably find all sorts of little odes and free verse and other nonsense scribbled on pieces of paper,  stashed in books, drawers, boxes, etc.  And they will roll their eyes.

So, in a act that is for me, one of EXTREME courage, I'm going to share a poem with you. All 3 of you who read this. I'm not even going to preface it with negative stuff, like its probably not any good, etc.  I'm not.

Here goes.
Eyes squinched shut, tightly...check!
Emergency numbers close by...check!
Paper bag to breathe in should I hyperventilate...check!
Poem copied and ready to paste...check!

3....2....1....I think I'm gonna be sick!

The Dance
Like puzzle pieces, our limbs intertwine
Your knee fitting perfectly into the bend of my leg
Your long leg draped securely over mine which is short
Arms wrapped
Hands held
Gentle breath blowing across my neck
My hair in your face, tickling your cheek
A nighttime dance we perfect in our slumber
An unconscious reaching out for each other
Waking to the warm comfort of love that creates the blissful dance

My first thought a calculation of the hours
Until the dance will begin again

                                                              ~Mollianne 12/11