grace

The Space, it Changes

bravery, courage, grace, Peace, rest, Stillness, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I can’t remember the last time I captured the magnificent.

Used to be, walking was captivating, interruptions were awe and for a time, I told myself all the people in their houses are watching,

Saying, “she’s taking pictures of the sky again” or the geese or the sun painting shapes on the trees or the occasional feather at my feet.

But, the geese are eluding me now, the birds have fluttered past all together, singing see ya later, I lift my eyes,

so long, they sing.

Fleeting moments, they fly.

Seems I’ve lost my seeing.

Today, I tried a new thing. Midweek Motivation, usually yoga, stretch and breathe; today it was different.

Something akin to tai chi, an intentional exercise in noticing the physical for me.

The space that I allowed the settling of my intention, I decided “assurance”, was my belly.

With a weighted pillow holding me secure, I listened as the instructor suggested imagining the flow of river from belly, limbs and feet river to ocean, making space free and pathways clear.

And then an exhale, the intention, the sought after thing, “assurance”, a reply was an echo and I responded, thoughtfully, “I have it.”

Then, prompted to consider that place that held your intention, is there a change?

Yes, a lightness, a making for more space.

The space, it changed.

I considered the skies without bird, the moments I missed seeing the geese and the wide, wide spaces God has shown me of late, His intention.

I believe there’s room, room to grow, space to be taken up in new rooms by me.

I’m certain there’s room.

“…confident I will see the Lord’s goodness while I am here in the land of the living.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭27:13‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Wisdom, Beauty, Small Changes

courage, daughters, family, grace, Stillness, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I changed things up this afternoon.

The place where I sit every morning, is different now. I swapped out shallow basket weave tray for old wooden box that now holds my pencil, Bible and books.

The pencils and pens that rested there before are now sorted and pointing up to show their colors, they’re now living in a little caddy with the bottom missing, so I got it real cheap.

Heather came over and we walked and we talked and I broke a branch of pear tree blossom.

Brought it in, let it rest in little jelly jar and I remembered how my mama used to be on Saturday afternoon, late.

I’d walk in the back door and the den would be different, she’d found something out junkin’ and she’d rearranged the room around it.

We might sit and she’d talk and I always left my heart fuller and more wise.

The conversations slow, pensive pauses, insight straightforward, yet soft enough I held it, never considered it obtrusive, it was welcomed, her wisdom resting with mine just barely started.

It’s a generational thing, the wisdom unfettered, the joy in small changes.

My daughter walked with me this evening. I didn’t let her know; but, I could barely contain myself in my notice of her beauty.

The sun going down, the spring chill of breeze bringing her hair towards her cheeks, her loose ponytail bouncing.

And we talked, her wisdom rooted deeply and decidedly, not pulled right nor left and maybe some of it mine; but, most of all hers, my mama’s and a yes, just a little bit, mine.

“She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.”

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭31:26‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Sound of Sigh

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, grief, Peace, Redemption, Salvation, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

It was audible. The whole house, empty and I’d heard it once already. A peaceful type awakening of thought wrapped up securely, held safely down deep.

The bottom of the soul’s well, causing a welling up.

That’s what a sigh sounds like, I believe. A bringing up to our surfaces, the soul’s regrets, letting them see the light and to leave us better, leave us in peace.

John was born for that, to show others Jesus as peace, Jesus as redemption, not regret.

Someone saying they had so much more to say and I remembered my regret.

My “ohh” came out all gravelly like the sides of my heart somehow roughed up the edges of my words and my voice was a sad sigh tarnished by memory.

I remembered regretting coming back home that night. And I remembered what I said by her bed.

I sighed, my understanding audible.

My voice muffled by the knot in my throat as my daughter shared what her friend said her husband said, his father gone before he had the chance to say more.

I sighed; but, not for long, I listened instead, stopped my taking of another’s grieving thunder.

My sigh changed then, from oh I know to hopefully more, I understand.

Same morning, I’m thinking of what I missed finishing the day before, good intentions stolen by circumstance and once again, I regretted not painting, not writing, not following through.

I opened my little book called “Joy and Strength” to the place chosen for the 2nd of March.

And again, the sound of sigh, this time a sigh of affirmation and of hope.

This one, “Ohhh”, more like “oh, my goodness, oh, my soul,

Oh, how amazing, oh, the love of God”

I sighed, “oh” again, the sound softer then, a validation.

I believe that love reigns, and that love will prevail. I believe that He says to me every morning,

“Begin again thy journey and thy life; thy sins, which are many, are not only forgiven, but they shall be made, by the wisdom of God, the basis on which He will build blessings.”

Thomas Erskine

“Oh”, I sighed, a prayer, again today.

Heavenly Father today I begin again.

Steady my heart, give me opportunity to remember and sweetly sigh, “oh” as I walk along the path of peace that you have made so amazingly free and possible despite my past sins worthy of many regrets.

In Jesus’ name and because of mercy.

Amen

I’m afraid I never can finagle all my thoughts into words in five minutes. I’ll link this post with the others though. I’ve already read so many very good posts on regret from others, I’m joining the conversation.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/03/01/fmf-link-up-regret/

Bare Branches and Strong Spines

bravery, courage, doubt, Faith, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

“You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭56:8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The tree limbs are starkly dark. There’s no denying the contrast against the clarity of cloudless day.

It seems the season has come early and the barren aged tree is ragged, unadorned, and the limbs exposed.

I was drawn towards the blackness of branch, the hard and seemingly morbid lack of promise for new.

Surrounded by delicate fragile blooms of white, pink, yellow popping forth from little green capsules of petal, my gaze rested, enthralled by the trees still winter barren.

The thought of it wouldn’t let me go, I’d promised a friend a Bible and then it just became sort of an oh well, nice thought… I don’t think she really expected it kinda thing.

And I said shame on me to ignore such a simple request, to let it fade into the place of “just a thought” suggestions, hopes, pleasant ideas.

How shallow and self-absorbed I felt.

So, I made my way back to the mega store with the discount everything and perused the shelves immediately inside the doors.

Children’s books about bunnies, books with spaces to fill in color, cookbooks, romance, how-to do anything books and Bibles.

I was looking for the Bible with the robins and sparrows on its cover, pretty colors subtle with brown of feather, coral on bellies and touches of blue on wings.

It was not there. I scanned over about a hundred covers, collecting titles I’d heard of, wondered about, decided to keep four with me.

Similar assertions they all made, promises that might be inside the pages, chapters all exploring doubts and fear and failures.

New writers writing about old things in hopefully new ways.

For a moment I considered, “Are we all just a community of tortured and tragic souls?”

Women who believe in Jesus but struggle to believe in ourselves?

Does every single book attempt to affirm for us what in our hearts we know but lose our grips on, occasionally needing to hold on again and longer?

Do we need to be broken so that we can remember His brokenness?

Do we need to be lost and looking all over the place, bumping into people and places here on earth, never fitting in and then remembering oh, my heavens…we were made for heaven, not here?

I sat at my desk the other morning, feeling as if all I do amounts to nothing and stuffing down my frustrations over people and things not measuring up as they should.

I thought about my longing to write, my assurance of God wanting me to write about the “lost years” and the women who never considered me a lost cause.

I resented my days filled to the brim, my heart ached with guilt that I might never finish my telling and it becoming memoir bound together and held by strong spine.

I was afraid of not fulfilling God’s purpose.

The thing He named my treasure.

Then, I sat in the empty space of my large office, on my desk are little vignettes on either corner, newly picked petals and a painting I’m saving for someone, paperweight, a penny on heads and I remembered.

God sees what you don’t say, Lisa.

There’s not a fear he doesn’t know, not a sorrow he can’t understand.

There’s no disappointment He’s not abreast of and hoping you’ll hold on through.

There’s no struggle He does not see.

I thought of the books I’d purchased.

One about freedom, one about being the you God made you to be, one, by Rev. Billy Graham and the last one about leaving the childhood church scarred to find the grown-up church of mercy, grace, of Jesus.

So, I reconsidered my concern over all the books about walking a walk of faith that included all the trips and falls and failures.

I reconsidered how that might be too much. I realized it can never be enough.

Never enough likeminded souls seeking a closer walk with Jesus.

Never enough joining of hands and hearts to say, I understand, it’s progress not perfection and let me tell you how far I fell before I figured how to stand again.

I thought of David again, how he struggled with being chosen to be a fighter. I thought of the emotional cries for help, pleas for rescue as well as his praises to God for provision.

The Book of Psalms, a menagerie of misery and yet, innumerable expressions of praise.

The Book, like the ones on my shelf, stories of struggling people turned toward God.

Maybe we need even more stories.

Maybe mine.

“For you have delivered my soul from death, yes, my feet from falling, that I may walk before God in the light of life.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭56:13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Almost 30 years ago, a friend had mercy on me. She said she “wasn’t gonna let me go.”

Today, she got a Bible in the mail.

There were no tiny birds on its cover; instead, the teeny tiniest little flowers scattered on pale green stems.

I found the ribbon inside and marked the place, added in light pencil, an angel in the margin, then ever so faintly, I circled the number of the promise.

The one she loves most.

God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns.

Psalms‬ ‭46:5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

God in my midst, I’ll not be moved. My help comes with every new morning.

Joy, strength, quiet beginnings and chances again made new.

Morning.

I’m linking this post up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story. If you ever struggle with what it means to leave your past behind, Jennifer’s truth on how Jesus feels about our past gives s new perspective. Three words I’ll hold onto, “Keep your mat.”

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/dont-hide-scars/

If I Were

bravery, courage, Easter, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Serving, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I was stern with someone last week. My discernment was laced with condemnation when it became a confront to what I’d noticed, what I’d found wrong.

Seconds ago, I texted an apology.

I pray it’s received, three days late, after all.

My work role requires confronting some days, and some days are hard. When work coincides with loss of a pet, worry over doctors appointments, and lingering concern over good things for grown children.

So, the balanced scales of the helper in the helping profession tilted heavy towards chastise, not guide.

I acknowledged it, was attentive to what the heart knows and the mind refuses to hide.

This morning, I read a writer’s truth that had the balance I need, just enough spot on conviction from God’s word to be sure it’s for me and then a tone of encouragement, a tone of “okay, now you know, do better”.

And then, I opened my Bible to read the little Book of Titus that inspired her reminder to me of how others should see me live.

But first, my Psalm for today, the 51st.

Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin! For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit.

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭51:12‬ ‭ESV‬‬

‭

And then, quietly pencilled my truth, my “if I’m honest” revelation…

If I were a speaker, a teacher, a preacher, I’d want to be a balanced presenter.

I’d want to encourage in a way that surely gives hope for those not fully and consistently living their potential as God sees, knows, and filled them with, their promise and purpose.

I’d want my instruction to be because of my own knowing, not my curt examination and self-righteous critique of another.

If I were a teacher, a preacher, a speaker

I’d long that my words be my brave and possibly shocking truth, not some occasional and wobbly walk, falling to waysides with regularity.

If I were a teacher, I’d hope I’d include a talk on how this meander in our walk is a part of our journey; yet, not the map God has designed and that that’s why He is merciful and patient

and clear in His giving of directions.

If I were a preacher, a teacher, a speaker or advisor

On many days it’d be best that I’m wordless, my words depending on my ways, not His will, His way.

It’d be best I keep quiet.

Because on those days, I am prone to judgement, frustration and feel my efforts are futile.

On those days, those mornings like this morning.

Oh, it’s so very good to be made right, to listen, to apologize, to examine my heart and invite, simply invite the clean slate of new day made new with my repentance.

Reconciliation, that’s it, morning is sometimes simply reconciling the day, the week, the moments of before.

“The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭51:17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Profit and loss-like, losing the excess of self and gaining God through His holy deposits into my soul.

Balanced to begin again.

Teachable, more and teacher less

and hopefully differently.

Questioning the Bloom

courage, Easter, Faith, grace, Peace, praise, Trust, wonder

“The Bradford Pears are blooming! Oh, my goodness, what is going on?”

“And these too!” I added, “What’s gonna happen if it doesn’t rain soon or if the ice comes back or when we get the “snap” before Easter?

We look for the demise not the design.

The verdant green of leaf of the hydrangeas are showing out too, all of a sudden getting ready to be the underlying cushion of the most brilliant purple, pink, heathery blue puff of round poof.

The pink buds making a hazy veil on the big wide fields lined with peach trees all in a row, the ones that died, frozen last year.

It seems they are ready to make a showing, showing up early for the big show!

I wake this morning to birds singing, much earlier than I guessed and I regretted my pessimism over the peach trees blooming, over the doubts of their surviving.

Because I remember it’s not us who plans the season and it’s not us who orders up the beauty, it’s God and we forget it because we’ve grown accustomed to miscues, mistakes, manipulations of man.

“Out of Zion, the perfection of beauty, God shines forth.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭50:2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

We question the beauty, we make it our creation and we forget we’ve nothing to do with it all and in forgetting we miss the bloom,

we lack the joy in our anticipation of it’s fading.

May we never lose our wonder, may we never miss His beautiful world.

linking up with others at Five Minute Friday, prompted by “beauty”. http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/02/22/fmf-link-up-beauty/

On Grace

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Motherhood, Peace, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Grace, when I get it all wrong, make it complicated and conditional

is like a too good to be true vacation won and they don’t tell you about your part, what it costs, the hidden fine print.

Grace abounds. I looked it up, “abound”.

It’s plentiful

Abundant

Exists in large amounts.

Reminds me of itself in the smallest of beautiful and sweet things.

“And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭9:8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Grace is much like the morning after the day you didn’t quite get it right or even got some things really wrong…from your harsh perspective of your own lofty expectations of self, at least.

Maybe grace is like taking the time to add some berries over the creamy oatmeal, a puddle of creamy cream in a pretty white bowl.

Maybe grace is just like that, is not in short supply, beckons us settle down, enjoy and embrace, taste and see the grace like berries in a bowl, so sweet and simply beautiful to sit and rest with.

To be savored.

Shame on me for complicating grace, making it what I can do for God instead of what I get to embrace from God.

Grace is a kingdom, with arms open wide.

Listen and walk in grace today:

Broken Things

If it’s true, you use broken things, then here I am Lord, I’m all yours!

Matthew West

It’s a melody of hope, an easy dance in our crazy, crowded and noisy rooms.

Our dance with grace, as if we’re the only ones of the floor, partners in a rhythm of content.

Grace is smooth, amazing I know; but, most often for me it’s subtle and settled. The way I see it, the way God knows me best and waits for me to see it again.

So, get up “Lisa Anne”. (I can hear my mama using my full name) from your list of bulleted to do’s and prayers and go, go with the abundant grace, with your day open all the more now to grace that abounds.

On grace, go.

My Occasional Limp

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Redemption, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I rose to greet my friend the other day and she cocked her head to the side, she noticed my struggle.

My sort of favoring the weight landing on one leg not the other. “What’s going on with your leg?” she asked.

I answered, “I’m old!” and she smiled that wise smile that always says I know you so very well.

Thing is, something’s up with my knee and that nerve that we name as if it’s our nuisance of a relative who comes back around… “Oh, my sciatica is back.”

Yeah, I prefer to just roll with it, the changing of my body. The choice to not remember my mama’s knee surgery that began the decline and the piling on of medications and other compromises and complications that caused her to die.

I’m not my mother; but, I am beginning to pay attention more to the things I’d decided not to know, always making efforts to deny.

Can’t help but pay attention to my slight change in my walk, to the shifting of things weighty, one part compensating for the other, hoping to disguise.

I wondered yesterday, should we walk, should I break into a little intermittent run, sort of experiment with the knee pain, toy with its ability, test to see how much it could take?

Should I keep pushing my limit?

Yes, decidedly “movement is medicine”.

Colt, the big brown lab was beyond thrilled and listened as I told him sit, stayed in a brisk rhythm with me with the tug of the collar and we had an awesome walk together!

Nearing the end of the neighborhood, we were strolling and he was stopping for smells. On the phone with my sister in law, a white flash of object on the curve and corner.

A vehicle off the road, dug up and leveled the street sign flat then entered and exited the ditch and ended up on the road as if she’d just stopped to rest or re-navigate.

When she opened the door and freed herself from the airbag, I asked “Are you okay?” and she just stood for a minute then said she guessed she wasn’t paying attention.

She was okay, unharmed. Her car was not. Later, my sister in law and my neighbor called to make sure we were okay.

My neighbor says she’s stopped walking that way. My sister in law said maybe I shouldn’t be walking that way anymore.

I retorted, “I’m not gonna stop walking. It’s my thing, the closest to being in the country as I can get. I enjoy it and nobody’s gonna take it from me!”

Went on to say, people see me walking, they know our pattern. We get as close to the ditch as we can and we stop next to the big empty field and sometimes even sit there to rest.

Thing is, the brand new SUV which happens to be a newer version of my “new” car would have most likely thrown Colt and I into the air had we been only a minute or so farther in our walk.

I don’t know where we’d have ended up or what shape we’d be in, how far gone we might have been.

This morning, I’m reading from the Book of Hebrews and I’ve written a pretty firm “disciplinary note” to self.

A note about my walk, about the way I walk, about paying attention and knowing I’m being paid attention to.

About being very careful lest I lose my connection to God, lest I lose my ability to make disciples due to my lack of discipline.

Lest I lose that knowing what it is He knows is mine to do, lest I drift too far away.

My sister in law and I agreed, I need to pay more attention and I woke clearly hearing God say, “Pay attention to these things I am showing you.”

“Pay attention, Lisa.”

Take notice of what and who I’ve brought into your presence to teach you.

“You will see your teacher with your own eyes. Your own ears will hear him. Right behind you a voice will say, “This is the way you should go,” whether to the right or to the left.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:20-21‬ ‭NLT‬‬

The woman who careened frighteningly into the ditch and back out, she was unharmed; but, also wobbly in speech and stature, I believed she should not drive and when she tried, I explained to her she couldn’t.

She, a teacher for me.

A flat tire, no windshield and air bags blocking the view, I worked hard to convince her she was unable to go any farther.

She had gone too far already.

She needed to stay put, not take any more chances, dangerously testing providence and grace.

My neighbor said her husband came, I’m not sure where it all went from there. I was worried about her and for her; but, I didn’t want to know the consequences, see them play out.

Today, I’m paying closer attention to what it is God has to say about some of my ways in my walk and how my limp might be beginning to be more noticeable, more a handicap, less moderated.

My walk less straight and focused, my vision blurred by occasional choices teetering on the edge of becoming regular rituals.

I’m not condemning myself, just taking note, standing straight and being a cautious student and a noticer of my surroundings.

Making sure the occasional limp doesn’t cause me to fall, doesn’t level me flat on my face and unable to recognize my violent turns off the right road, onto the wrong path.

“Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed.”

‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭12:12-13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

My knee is tender, but my walk is straight today and of my path, I’m more attentive.

My heart and soul not made lame and shamed by my understanding; but, healed and renewed anew.

We all stumble in many ways, over choices, chances taken, patterns established and left uncontrolled. But if we are to be disciples we must be attentive to our self-discipline.

We must be attentive to the One who is watching over us, longing for our consistent notice.

“He will not let you stumble; the one who watches over you will not slumber.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭121:3‬ ‭NLT‬‬

linking up with others who tell their stories of God in our days.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/let-tell-story-behind-photo/

Silent with Wisdom

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability

It’s gray and slow moving here. I love it so, a day that falls open waiting for me to fill, sans obligations.

I looked in the back of my Bible to direct me to the next words for today. First though, my thick book covered in cobalt blue fell open to the Book of Job.

Job always teaches me.

His condition, his surrender in the beginning, his confusion, his loneliness, his distress and maybe, eventually surrendering and accepting the life he knew will never be again.

I always learn from how he is battered by the abandonment and loss and yet open to learning from God, knowing God is still not just God, but His God!

Chastised by friends, cajoled to curse God and then having a discussion with his friend about God essentially saying tell God how you feel if you’d like because you don’t belong in this pit, you belong in the light.

I’m glad I have a couple of friends who pull me out of my pits, tell me I don’t belong there.

The verses towards the end of Chapter 33 are underlined in thick ink and have asterisks next to them and this is where my Bible fell open on this foggy, thoughtful morning.

This place and then Luke 1, the words of the angel to Mary reminding me the things I feel are impossible are possible with God.

“He has redeemed my soul from going down into the pit, and my life shall look upon the light.

Behold, God does all these things, twice, three times…to bring back his soul from the pit, that he may be lighted with the light of life.

Pay attention, O Job, listen to me; be silent, and I will speak. If you have any words, answer me; speak, for I desire to justify you. If not, listen to me; be silent, and I will teach you wisdom.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭33:30-33‬ ‭ESV‬‬

We were not created for the pit, the pit may be a place we go, wallow in, get trapped, either by choice or circumstance.

We are not meant to stay there, meant to emerge clearly wiser and more softened by His light.

Thank you, Heavenly Father for thoughtful thick mornings and for causing my Bible to open in the places I need reminding, need to be silent and grow more wise.

In Jesus name and because of mercy,

Amen

What Privilege

Abuse Survivor, bravery, Children, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Motherhood, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, Unity, Vulnerability

Prompted to write for five minutes on the word “Privilege”, I remembered last night the privilege to understand other women, them to understand me. I was one of four who spoke of being a victim of abuse.

Then, I recalled a mama joining in our discussion on bullying at our suicide prevention meeting earlier in the day. I was moved by her memories. Her daughter, now a professional and an adult, was intelligent, beautiful, the top in her class; yet, she did not walk onto the football field in an extravagant dress to be given her crown.

She quickly changed into her cheerleader uniform to carry out her part on the team. She was, afterwards met by vulgar comments about how “special she thought she was.”

Her mama said to this day she never talks about her Senior year of high school. So, I asked and her reply made me understand more clearly how I might be privileged when, honestly I’d struggled before to understand.

I asked, “So, your daughter was bullied by girls because she was beautiful and smart and because of race?”

“Yes.” she replied.

I understand more clearly what I’ll never understand fully.

But, this morning I’m thinking about another the privilege.

The privilege to take it to the Lord in prayer, the verse in the old hymn that talks about what a friend Jesus is and what a privilege to “carry everything to the Lord in prayer.”

Jesus, my friend seated right next to the Father is advocating for me, interceding on my behalf, surely I felt His presence last night as I took the stage before the sharing of “my story”.

I felt His presence, what a privilege,

The reason I add a little extra before my “in Jesus name”, a little extra closing to keep me ever humbly grateful.

“Because of mercy….”

Linking this post up on this blessed Friday morning with others who are considering “privilege”. Join us here: http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/02/08/fmf-link-up-privilege/