Five Minute Friday: Ache

It’s Friday, and it’s almost my birthday. So, while I could write for miles on the ache of getting older, I kept it to five minutes and something other than my age. Because that would be sad, and no one needs sad right before the weekend. Join me at Lisa-Jo’s for Five Minute Friday, won’t you?

    1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
    2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
    3. Please visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them.

Today’s Prompt: Ache


GO:


The Germans have a word for it. It’s called sehnsucht. I know, it’s ridiculous. I know like ten German words, and that is one of them. CS Lewis uses it too. He calls it an ‘inconsolable longing’ for ‘we know not what’. I know this longing, this ache.

It follows me, tethered to my heart by a string. I feel it when I look at brown haired babies who love to stand ‘back to back’ with their old momma and say “Measure me, Dad”. One of those brown haired babies is taller than me now. She gave me shoes to wear because she has outgrown them. And there it is, inconsolable longing for the baby she used to be.

I know this ache every time I look out my windows and I see the mountains standing tall and proud, capped in a haze of fog or snow or cloud. I long for something when I see them. I grasp for beautiful things when I fill my home with flowers or poetry or song. I try to fill, fill, fill up on everything lovely and light because there is a longing that wants to be satisfied. But it never really is.

It is the beautiful ache and when I write I feel it grow and recede, grow and recede, as I capture and expose the things that bring the biggest ache and the greatest longing. And for a moment I know what it is I’m longing for.

STOP


Wishing you a weekend that fills up your beautiful ache.

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  • I ache with you . . . makes me think of the song that this world is not our home, but it’s a temporary ache, isn’t it?!?!

  • This is so beautiful! I could feel the ache right along with.

  • That God size hole that no one or nothing can fill. Written beautifully. Beautiful pictures too! Oh, how I wish I were in the mountains.

  • this.is.beautiful.

  • (linked up at gypsymama also)

    So beautiful…it’s the longing I believe Christ has placed in our hearts that makes us realize this is not our home…praise Him. What joy! So thankful that in Him we are filled to overflowing~

    Blessings,
    Melanie

  • This is so, so beautiful. I love your description of “grow and recede” I know that ebb and flow when I write to and I never recognised it until now. Stunning photos as well. Your daughter is beautiful. Thank you for sharing today.

  • This is so beautiful Kimberly…I love every bit of this 🙂 Thanks for capturing our hearts.

  • “It is the beautiful ache and when I write I feel it grow and recede, grow and recede, as I capture and expose the things that bring the biggest ache and the greatest longing. And for a moment I know what it is I’m longing for.”

    This is one of the most beautiful descriptions of the act of writing I’ve ever read. That is exactly what writing does. It captures an elusive ache within, one the ebbs and flows, grows and recedes, and for a moment, we can know what it is we long for.

    Beautiful post. And beautiful pictures too.

  • Beautiful. And if not for your writing, I wouldn’t be able to imagine my kids getting to be bigger than me. But it will happen, and with your help I can imagine the feeling.

  • Kimberly this is so so beautiful.

    aching along with you….

  • What a lovely post – aching along with you!

  • The beautiful ache.

    Stunning. Haunting. True.