Six Word Story (85)

Out of the sustaining cycles of life, the water cycle is one of my favorites to think about.

Every drop in the ocean would once have been rain that every flip of a fin stirs, and every current shares with the whole earth.

The beauty of our word is memorizing.

I see intent and intricate planning in its design. This belief doesn’t make me afraid of science, as some people think of those who are religious. No, it lends me a joy as I contemplate the puzzle pieces.

But I am also a dreamer, not a scientist. Still, the thought of ‘what if’ pulls at my heart, maybe close to the same way as it would for my calculating brothers and sisters?

What would it be like to ride those vapors?

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com


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Six Word Story (84)

There is a beauty like no other when it rains, each drop its own little world until it touches down.

What must it be like to be separate as you fall to be broken apart across pavement? Never ceasing to be what you are, but to have your world change so drastically as you slide down hill, finding a crack and joining the soil. Remaining what you are, but also changing.

What must it be like to touch down upon the sea and join an uncountable multitude of life? Something with sound and molecules invisible and unheard by the human world?

That fall, that union, vital to our existence. Without it? We wither.

Each single drop, so important.
But alone, never enough.

Only embracing togetherness of different kinds does water nourish life.

…like people…

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Six Word Story (83)

Do you know the ache of honest work?
The burn of weary feet?

Do you know the sweet sensation of a deep pile carpet after work shoes are shed?

Without the ache, we would not know the release of rest.

May this weekend give you that rest your weary feet might need.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Six Word Story (82)

I remember my red balloon. It was heart-shaped with ‘Happy Birthday’ printed in white letters across one side.

I loved that balloon.

Unfortunately, my parents’ living room ceiling hated balloons of all kinds.

“Hold on to the sting, Mary.” I was told.

But, In the middle of childhood games and enthusiasm I let the string of go and in a startling second… That balloon burst as it touched the brickly popcorn surface.

Now I have a new balloon. But I have learned my lesson. I won’t let my dream touch that prickly ceiling…

How about you?

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Six Word Story (80)

Delicate. fragmenting under pressure.

Desiccated particles, all that remain.

Or…

An imprint that will last lifetimes.

A legacy.

A gift.

A life unforgettable.

We all leave imprints we are unaware of.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Six Word Story (79)

The fall to earth is never strait, or predictable.

For a while they hold fast, grow, preparing for the fall. A fall that’s inevitable.

We all fall.

I pray when I finally land, others will say I fell with grace.

And when I rest, it will be in fertile soil, in which to spread new roots.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Six Word Story (78)

Young, still growing, still learning, still gaining strength. We call it a bud, but it is still a flower.

It guards itself until the day God whispers reaches it though natures script.

“Its time.”

Then, petal by petal, it opens. I wonder…

Does it hurt? Is there relief? Are there such things as introverted or extroverted flowers? Either way, we wait in anticipation for them to be ready.

People are a lot like buds…

Are you ready? Even if you’re not, you are still beautiful.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Six Word Story (77)

Nothing gets done unless someone is willing to get their hands dirty.

In the western cultures we admire cleanliness, and the modern way of life. But underneath the white walls, and pavement, is the evidence of people who wheren’t afraid of a bit of dirt.

Art making is no different.

We paint, we sculpt, we gather, and glue. A writer creates a ‘dirty draft’ before shaving away exes prose and blowing the fragments into the waste bin at the back of the mind.

We can not remove the muck of ‘making’ from life.

It might be dirty, but it’s beautiful.

I, for one, am thankful that God himself was not afraid of the dirty work of making.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroeft

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Six Word Story (74)

There are special people in this world that thrive in the background. Do you know one?

They know how to work with their hands and make things happen.

Or say just the right things to light up the darkness before melting back in to the shadows.

Are YOU one of them?

If you are… Thank you.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Six Word Story (73)

Though cracked and dry, the riverbed is still there.

The broken boat evidence of past actions.

Our hearts? Can they still hear the whispers of the waves? Can we still praise in the drought?

It’s hard, but nature doesn’t forget past blessings even as the landscapes change. The earth buries its evidence in layer after layer of newness.

I will try to sit, be silent, and remember the sound of waves lapping the shore. I will remember past blessings. I will praise.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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