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| Only it is 14 degrees outside... so mine is hot chocolate. |
It's Friday night and it's been a long, full week. I want nothing more than to sit across the table from you and gab. It's been a week of hubby-not-home and ministering and mothering and tonight I just want some girl time.
I would point out that the lettering on my doorpost is still not done, because although I have it planned, I have so little confidence in my ability to size and center. I'd ask your opinion on the font and the size, and I'd probably ask you to spot me while I climbed up to finish this week's project.
As I letter, I'd lament about how starved we all are for connection, for someone to say, "Yeah, me too," and how hard it is to cross that thresh hold into that level of freedom in our friendships. I'd praise God that I've had the opportunity to steward the lessons I learned in the valley, and I'd ask you to pray that I would have the wisdom and discernment to minister to my precious, hurting friend. I'd share with you how Carrie posted the perfect verse at the perfect time, and I'd show you the frame where I have placed it. Since you don't know my precious sister in Christ I'd show you the frame, which reminds me to intercede on her behalf, but I would not share the barest of details, because some wounds are just too precious. {Would you pray for her even now, even knowing no details? He knows. He sees all.}
Then I'd show you my mug from Brookish and we'd laugh over the fact that I watched two versions of Pride & Prejudice and Emma Thompson's version of Sense & Sensibility (with and without the commentary playing overtop) and that I'm re-reading Mansfield Park because two of my Twitter buddies liked it so much more than I did and I want to know what I missed. I'd also giggle and show you this t-shirt and wonder out loud if I should buy it for my Hubby.
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| copyright Brookish |
We'd laugh about the silliness of trying to clean a house while the littles are awake and the exhaustion that prevents us from doing a good job when they are not, and we'd wonder why we are so concerned. And then we'd share the actual whys of why we are concerned: our OCD friends with perfect homes, our relatives with too-loud comparisons, and our own hang-ups on balancing real mothering with the June Cleaver standard. And then we'd wonder what the home of the actress who played Mrs. Cleaver's home really looked like, and while I refill our mugs you'd comment that you're glad my house isn't picture perfect, but that's it's probably cleaner than I think it is.
I'd ask you to pray for the messages I'm preparing, and then I'd give you the chance to pour out your heart, because I really am willing to listen, and I consider it a privilege to pray for you, even if you can give very few details.
How about you?
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