Nine years and new beginnings

Todd and I celebrated nine years of marriage this last Wednesday.  We reminisced about the past and anticipated the future like we do on most anniversary dates, this year at a quaint mexican restaurant.  Afterward, we found ourselves sitting by the Guadalupe River at a nearby park and later capped off the evening by treating ourselves to new pillows.

Clearly, we know how to partay.

In many ways, these nine years have flown.  Having kids has a way of speeding things up somehow because life is always measured in milestones and themed birthday parties.  Tommy is always counting down to the next thing, the next event, the next holiday.  Our little man always has to have a plan or know what the plan is -he relies on consistency and predictability. Right now we are counting down to his sixth birthday and our promise of spending the day at Six Flags with him.  And potty training our second child is looming in our near future and just thinking about it is enough for me to wish time could stand still. 

But at the start of our ninth year of marriage together, we have found ourselves in an unwanted season of transition.  A chapter in our lives that we have loved living and doing and being a part of is at its end.  And we are heartbroken.

There's no way to poetically write it or talk around it so I will just say the things that nobody really says when these things happen:  our church is falling apart.  Or at least, that's how we see it.  People are leaving.  Dear, dear friends that we have done life with and loved on and been in ministry with are moving on.  And we are devastated.  The how's and why's and who's are irrelevant really.  The fact of the matter is, churches and pastors and leaders and members - everything and everyone of us broken.  And sometimes that brokenness causes divisions and disagreements or bad decisions or just humans being extra humanly.  In short - it sucks.  It sucks so very much.

The evening we sat by the river, there was nothing but he and I, some huge cypress trees and the sound of the water flowing past.  I took this picture as it perfectly captures us, our marriage and how we fit together.  He with his camo crocs and me with my overly girly and sparkly sandals. So incredibly opposite but somehow we were made for each other.

Life is often going to hand us unexpected realities.  Chapters and seasons will come and go and many of them, like this one, we won't even see coming.  But we're in this thing together just like we vowed nine years ago.

Right now we are grieving. We are losing our church, our community, a sense of familiarity and comfort and predictability - some of those things that must go if we to continue to grow.  We are trusting by faith that God gives and takes away, and tears things down to only build something back up in its place.  Before each new beginning, there is always an ending.

I'm simply grateful that nine years into marriage, we are living our endings and new beginnings camo croc by sparkly sandal.  Side by side.

A picture worth more than a thousand words....

If a picture is worth a thousand words, than this picture is worth two thousand....

My heart both throbs with joy and aches all at the same time - so much story to be told with each face, each person.  So much life lived and shared.   

These people have a lot to do with the woman I am today - and to have all of them in one photo, in the here and the now.....

Last night we told told tales and gave testimony to the wild ride that God has seemed to have all of us on individually.  A battle with cancer.  A change in careers.  The birth of a new ministry.  A move across the country back to Texas home.  Raising families.  My own North Dakota saga.  It was sweet and it was good to see where God is just as big and wild with others and their own story, and how walking with Him is both heart-wrenching and fulfilling for others as it has been for me.

What is special about this particular group of people is that God brought each and every one of them in to my life when I needed them most.  Each and every one of them has filled holes in my heart, brought me encouragement, provided for a need, and has been a shoulder or a listening ear.

During high school when it felt like my family was falling apart, my youth pastor, and his wife, Bill and Molly, loved on me and cared for me.  Youth group, youth events, youth anything at church was a bright and shining part in the years that were full of sadness and loss for me.

Bill and Sandy basically adopted me as one of their own during that time too - I nearly lived there in high school and in my early twenties I did actually call their home my own for a a few months while I recovered from some awful financial blunders.

Arlie was a teacher and mentor to me, especially as a young adult, and taught me how to study the Scriptures and helped me solidify my faith and why I believe what I believe.

And Sarah....my oldest, dearest and best of friends.  She has seen me at my worst and loved me the same.  She has been the hands and feet of Jesus to me in all of the 17 years I have known her.  She is and always will be my foreverest friend as our hearts are knit together in the Anne-and-Diana-bosom-friend kind of way.

Last night, at a little reunion to visit Bill and Sandy who had traveled from Montana for a visit, we shared laughter, tears, food, prayer, singing and reminiscing over the goodness of the past.  Where God has been rich in love and mercy and abundant in grace and has showered all of us with these forever friendships that have spanned the course of 20 years.

And hopefully many, many more to come.

There aren't enough words in the world to speak of my joy and gratitude and thankfulness for how God cast these men and women into my life-story. Oh my heart.....my cup runneth over.

Nooks and Crannies

You know those nooks and crannies in your house right?  The ones that you wouldn't want anyone to see, because even though your home is beautifully decorated and mostly cleanish, when you have friends over to visit, they don't see that you have a darker side that often manifests itself in the horror of the hidden nook or cranny.  

And you know what places I'm talking about right?  Where dirt has collected or where you haven't quite gotten around to cleaning or organizing yet, because what's really the point when no one knows it's there but you anyway?  You manage to hide them or disguise them and they go unseen and unknown and you can maintain your awesome reputation of having a well kept home or whatever it is that you want people to assume about you when they come over to your house.   

Probably, if you knew someone were going to see your hidden places of filth, you would do something about it.  The nasty nooks and crannies would get cleaned, because heaven forbid, someone could conclude that if you actually kept something that grimy in your house, what kind of housekeeper/homemaker/domestic-goddess/human being are you?!

But, there are some friendships that transcend the nooks and crannies.  Some friends, the realest and dearest ones, know the nooks and crannies of your heart and your story and still want to grab lunch with you and ask you for recipe ideas and will still sit for hours and talk with you about life.  And knowing that they will actually see the nooks and crannies of your home up close and personal is nothing - you know they won't shudder or even blink an eye at it.

(Real nook and cranny in my house.  Ew.)

Such was the case last night. My oldest and dearest and best of friends came over after I had a very rough day.  I spent most of it crying because reality had finally sunk in that my husband is in freaking North Dakota and I'm about to be done with working full-time and the thought of being a stay-at-home-mom is mildly terrifying.  And then there's the fact that I'm almost 34 weeks pregnant and I'm all alone and I actually need a significant amount of help around the house until I'm no longer carrying a giant boy in my belly.

She did Tommy's laundry and washed my dishes and cleaned my counters and even gave Tommy a bath - all tasks that include the bending over thing that gets my back into a mess every time.

She saw my shameful nook and cranny that I'm sure no other friend has ever seen, and she handled Tommy's dramatics in the bath tub quite well and everything.  She insisted that it was way more fun to clean someone else's home anyway. 

I felt awkward and helpless.  But, I felt blessed and loved on too.  I was reminded that love does things.  It doesn't just offer to pray for you or drop you a line on Facebook. It's more than that.

It gives.  It comes.  It shows up.  It cleans and washes and bends over and gets messy and doesn't tire of any of the doing because the very nature of love is action.  This friend knows how to love well and her love for me over the years has done and given and served endlessly.  She knows that love sees the nooks and crannies and is able to accept them and see past them because we are so much more than the nooks and crannies that we can sometimes allow to define us. 

One of her text messages earlier in the day after I was finally done battling whether or not I wanted her to come over and accept her offer of love and help said, "Yay for you truly allowing others to see you messy and needy!"

I told her she was way more excited about this than I was, and I would have to celebrate that in retrospect.  Because in the moment I felt like a dweeb (my actual word was pathetic) that I needed help with simple tasks around the house. 

But love can only do when we let others in to see our need.  When we let them into our mess and into the filthy nooks and crannies we want to hide and cover up and pretend don't exist.  Only then can we know love and feel loved and be able to really accept it as it was intended to be given.

And last night I did just that.  I let her see my messy tupperware cabinet and the nasty grime that has collected in the washroom where my laundry soap sits.  And she saw my untidy bedroom and the pile of shoes that collect near the front door.  At the end of the night when my counters were sparkling and my boy was bathed clean and I was resting in my recliner, I felt loved.  I felt loved for how she helped me and I felt loved in spite of my nooks and crannies and all of the places where I am currently in need.

It was there that I was able to breathe.  And to rest.

We are back

No marriage is perfect.  I thought that for a long time though.  I idealized others and thought they had it all figured out and we were just missing something.  I was even on a mission to find that missing piece.  To do marriage better than my parents did or my friends do.  As if its a competition or something to be mastered.  

Needless to say, God and marriage and everything that unfolded in the last year between Todd and I was humbling. I'm grateful for it.  I desperately needed to be broken there - we both did.

Since I wrote my "Story of Us" posts, there has been a shift with us.  In many ways it feels like we're back to being the us that I loved. Being able to recognize this has brought comfort to my heart in the places where evil still whispers that we won't make it forever and ever like we vowed.

But one thing is true for this moment and this season.  We are back. We are back to the us that works, that loves, that is meant to be together.

We are back to sending sweet text messages during the day like:

Him:  Guess what?

Me:  What????

Him:  I think you're wonderful (followed by a kissy face)

We are back to holding hands on the couch while watching Star Wars movies.

We are back on all of the same pages together again.  We're saving money and being more thoughtful with our finances. We're considerate and helpful - like how he helps with the dishes because he knows how much I hate doing them.  And I do the laundry and he never has to worry about having clean socks.  

We our back to our familiar, comfortable rhythm where there is give and take and just the right amounts of conflict and affection.

We are back to talking about the crap as it happens rather than letting it build up.

We are back to family dinners around the table and talking about our days and disappointments and hopes together.  

We are back to dreaming about expanding our family and praying about what God might have in store for us there.  The hardest and most painful place to dream, yet to even be here feels like we've already birthed some great thing.

We are back to being us.

Just in time to celebrate six years of marriage in two short weeks.  It's good to be back.

The dearest friends

Sometimes, there are friends so dear that you are willing to wake up at 5:00am on a Sunday morning even though you never wake up that early. And you will get in a car and drive two hours a way to the smallest town ever just to go to church and get hugs from them.  Because you know by the end of that day, you will have been seen and known and enjoyed.  And those are the kinds of friendships that are just wonderful and keep us going when we get tired or just want to give up on everything.

Yesterday was one of those days that I woke up at 5:00am just to drive a few hours away.  Because those friends are just that dear.

It happened to be the one year anniversary of where we found each other in the Dallas airport and realized we were not only on the same Michigan-bound flight, but headed to the same place for the week.  A training conference with Open Hearts Ministry.  It was one year ago that a beautiful friendship started.

I had known George and Paula in high school when I attended the church he pastored.  After many years had passed, we ended up at the same church they attended after George retired.  Though we had only been  acquaintances to that point, our airport reunion and experience in Michigan, knit us together in a way that I never could have imagined.  All of it felt like this sweet, precious gift.

Perhaps what I love most, is being so deeply known by a couple who had known my mother before she became an alcoholic - when she was beautiful and when she was the mom that I see in my memories. There aren't many people who know my story that also knew my mom.  The friendship they had with her years ago felt healing and comforting for these places in my soul where I carry all of the feelings and emotions about who she is and was to me.  For almost a year, we enjoyed connection and shared meals and talked about real life.  They were a source of encouragement to both Todd and me and our marriage together. 

But then, George and Paula moved away early this spring.  Their son took a pastoral position in a small Texas town a few hours away and they followed him there.  It felt like the finale of losses for me. Where another wonderful friendship was going to change because of distance and because God is always moving in us. 

Thankfully they didn't move too terribly far away, which is why a road trip was most definitely in order.

We took in some beautiful views near Marble Falls.  As I looked out over the ledge, it reminded me of how much I love being near the water.  I always feel most like me when I'm near it.  The greens of south Texas trees met the blue shores of the water, the ripples on its surface from the perfect breeze that blew all day - the whole scene just filled me with peace and put to rest all of the places in me that have felt stressed and overwhelmed.

After the three of us went for coffee, Paula and I went out on our own to have some lunch together.  We got to eat on the deck of a restaurant that overlooked the water.  We ate our salads and talked about life and marriage and relationships and ministry and places we both felt hope.  Everything about it was sweet and life-giving.  I missed her and the unique friendship we have shared even more after the day was done and I was headed back home.

It was worth it though.  The early wake up call.  The drive.  The gas money.  The time away from my family.  The dearest, best of friends always are.

Haven

I looked at him tearfully. This man I call husband. The one who sees me in the mornings without make-up and the one who knows that I have to try on fourteen tops before deciding on just the right one while leaving the others on the closet floor. I looked at him and I cried and I unpacked the things I held in my heart all week long.

And he listened and was quiet and stroked my hair while I talked. I rested my head on his chest and let my mascara colored tears soak through his shirt. That space where my head meets his chin, that little place where I feel small and cared for and wanted. I let myself rest there and remember the safety I have with him. I could feel his warmth and hear his heart beat and I felt calm again.

I read recently that marriage is two flawed people coming together to create a space of stability, love and consolation. It's a haven for us in a heartless world. Marriage is not the place where we go to have everything fulfilled for us even though that's what we think we need from the other. (This is quite an interesting article if you want to know where I read this from.)

Lately, I've seen where I've changed. Where marriage has changed me and where it keeps changing us. Marriage is big that way. The relationship itself molds you and changes you even when you don't really know it. I guess some days feel harder than others with all the change that has taken place.

But last night I surrendered to the haven that marriage is. I admitted that I need the protection and safety and his unconditional love no matter how hard I fight it. And I fight those things for reasons as deep and complex as my story.

I will not ever find everything my heart is searching for in my husband - and the same can be said for him with me. God designed us with certain holes that really, only He can fill. It's both a glorious and painful thing to know and realize. Maybe there is room for more grace there when you realize that your spouse, your partner, your till-death-do-us-part relationship can't give and fill everything that you want. They can't - I can't - and that's why we need grace.

Grace - God seems to be all about that. His relationship with us is all about it. Why wouldn't marriage, this covenant and picture of Him with us, also be all about grace?

Somehow even with all the places that are disappointing, the places we need grace, the places we fight with ourselves or with each other - God allows us to know these tastes of how big His love is for us.

For me, it's where his fingers stroke my hair and his lips are soft and kiss me with gentle passion. It's the space where my head meets his chin. It's my haven in a heartless world.

Change the world

It has been my experience to encounter few people with passion and fervor for government and politics. A lot of people have opinions and knowledge, yet aside from voting, there are really a select few who feel called to go make needed changes for our country.

I happen to be related to one of those people though who has passion and fervor and wants to be a part of seeing this country make changes. My cousin Anna is heading of to Washington D.C. this coming Sunday for an internship there. And no telling where it will all lead, but it promises hope to open the door for a bigger something in her future.

Saturday night was an evening to honor her, pray for her and celebrate her before her departure - in complete patriotic style of course.We began the night in darkness. Life can feel dark. Often times the things going on in our country and our world can feel dark too. And sometimes, things inside of us can feel dark and hopeless. As we all went around the room giving Anna words of encouragement and vision for the next six months of life, we each lit a candle, watching the room come to life and light slowly. The time was precious and sweet and very tear-filled as all of us present not only had impact on Anna's life - but recognized where she has had impact on ours.
Anna is a world-changer. It was an overriding theme all night mentioned by several women there. She is most definitely one of those people who is called to more in this specific place. It has been quite something to watch this dream slowly unfold for my cousin-friend.
The night left me feeling filled with emotion. Pride, sadness, excitement, hope, curiosity, longing. Her absence leaves another hole in my life, and yet I see where it's time for her to go and time for me to feel that void.
The three of us cousins grew up together. We grew up closer than most cousins might get to. Our closeness is just a result of how God knit our stories together and how He continues to. I am humbled at how God has weaved our lives into the other. The tapestry of my life has Anna colored threads in it because of how her beauty has touched my life - where her words and tears have had impact on my story. I couldn't be more proud of the woman she has become and the woman she is still becoming today.

Go Anna. Go change the world. You have already changed ours.

Butterflies

He had been gone for an entire week. I'm pretty sure it was the longest week of my entire life. It felt like it. That week felt like a month, maybe even two.

I arrived at the airport early. I was convinced that if I got there earlier, his plane would also. I anxiously awaited at the bottom of the escalator - keeping an eye on Tommy who was fascinated with the vending machines and kept screaming happy screams and entertaining the airport janitors. We waited there for what felt like hours even though it was actually fifteen minutes.

And then I saw his shoes - his camo Crocs that he wears with everything. His feet were the first to appear coming down the escalator toward us.

And then there he was - my man. Teary-eyed. A look of love and relief washed over his face when he saw us.

I felt something inside of me I haven't felt since the beginning of us.

Butterflies.

They were as real as the first time I ever felt them with Todd - the night he first held my hand. I didn't know I would feel those ever again, but I did. I smiled and rejoiced within myself at feeling them.

Tommy stood there for a moment, a bit shocked to see his dad, even though I had talked to him all day long about going to get daddy that day. And then he ran to him and put his arms up and I cried because I was hoping he would gift him with that kind of homecoming.

We hugged and kissed and Todd held Tommy and I held him and my sunglasses fell off my head. We stood in the middle of the airport, our little family - standing, loving, embracing, reuniting. Precious sweet moments that I wish I could bottle up into something tangible so I could have that moment with me for always.

There has been a shift between us in the last several months. The kind of shift that has felt disrupting and messy to navigate through together. And in that, I had feared that maybe we lost something along the way. The thing you lose when you stop feeling butterflies and you push away passionate kisses and you start asking questions you never thought you would ask.

Todd's trip to Michigan was an answer to a prayer of my heart that I had longed to see become a reality for a very long time. His going reminded me that God is at work in the hearts of others that I love, even if I can't see it in the ways I am wanting to see it.

As hard and long as last week felt, I needed that time. I needed him to be gone. I needed to live life without him for a week. I needed to have the opportunity to miss him like that. I needed to take out the trash and feed the dog and put gas in my car and sleep in my bed all alone - to feel the weight of his absence and the absence of who he is in our home and family. He needed to be there, and I had to be here. I think most of all, I needed to know that the thing I was fearing we had lost hadn't really been lost after all.

Our reunion was sweet. Our weekend together has been so wonderful that I didn't even pick up my camera to capture anything because all I wanted to do was hold his hand and rest in his arms and catch up on kisses. It seems I discovered this weekend that I not only love my husband, but I am still very much in love with him.

And I wasn't expecting butterflies. They just came - unexpected and fleeting and magical - they came.

Packing

Last night, I spent several hours at B's house helping her pack things up for the big move. Several of us gals were there to help, but I found it hard to engage with anyone. It felt weird - to pack up someone else's dishes, someone else's home - and not just someone else. A very important and a very loved someone else that it just hurts really, really bad to say goodbye to.

I cried when I put bubble wrap over a picture of her and her husband because that felt hardest of all. And even though it felt painful, I wouldn't have wanted to be in any other place doing any other thing last night. Even though it was hard, it was good to be there too. All of it feels messy, but I wanted to be in this messy place with her. Maybe when you really love someone, messy places feel less messy just because you have someone to share in it with you.

I worked until my body felt sore and then I was grateful to feel the physical pain, because it almost felt like relief for my heart to feel something else, even for a moment.

The night went late but much was accomplished. It felt sad to walk out of her home - a place where we've shared slices of pizza and cups of coffee and tears and screaming boys while trying to have real conversations. The walls are now bare and where toys took up space, there are boxes and packing paper. Cupboards are empty and the garage is full of all of our labor ready for a moving truck to haul to a whole new state.

As painful as it's been, I've fought to let myself feel here. To feel the pain of her going and what it means. It's hard, and yet it's felt good and beautiful to share such closeness before she goes too. It's been worth the fight to remain alive so that I could feel everything my heart needs to feel. I guess I've experienced a lot of loss in my life and I didn't want this loss to be one that I numbed out to. It feels too important and I love her too much to not feel it all. And maybe, just maybe, I'm learning what it actually looks like to push into loss and the feelings that come with it. She also happens to be the kind of friend that lets me have my tears and doesn't shut them down. Even if they are about bubble wrapping framed pictures of her smiling face.

I didn't take any pictures last night. Partly because it just didn't feel right and partly because I didn't feel like I would need a picture to remember where my heart was either. Sometimes, the most memorable memories don't ever need to be captured with a camera.

Even though last night was laced with pain, it was also graced with beauty, friendship and sincere love. And I will remember all of it for always.

Face-to-Face

We've shared in a lot together the last few days.

Conversation. Coffee. Laughter. Tears. Stories. Fried pickles. Waffles. Movies. Songs. Pictures. Memories. Hopes. Dreams. Longings. Shopping trips. Popcorn. Disappointments. Fears. Silliness. Love.

Just life.

It's been good to have her here - my Auntie. Though we communicate by phone and Skype, it is never the same as her being here in person. Her visit from Africa this summer was a surprise to us all as we didn't think she would be able to return to the states until next summer. Her presence brings a joy and light to my heart that somehow ministers to the place in my heart where it often times aches and hurts. Something about her and what we share together warms my soul to the deepest parts of who I am.
There is still more life to share over the next couple of days. And I'm trying not to think about her taking off on Tuesday and another year going by before I see her face-to-face again.

The Beautiful Bride

Shelley and I had an interesting start to our friendship. I first remember seeing her in church one Sunday morning. She was wearing a brown sundress and had this gorgeous long, blonde hair. And what interested me about her was how she worshipped. And while I should have been worshipping and singing myself, I was captivated by her abandon in worship and how she was clearly in love with God. I knew that day that I wanted to know this young woman.

Quite a bit of time after that first encounter, I found myself sitting next to her at a Bible study and tried to strike up a conversation. I don't even remember what happened or what led to it, but it was a train wreck of a conversation. I am pretty sure I put my foot in my mouth and said something just totally wrong and then I completely shut down, as did she. It was very awkward and we sat next to one another the rest of that night in silence.

After a few days passed, I sent her a note apologizing for what I had said and what happened and explaining to her what had been going on for me. Again, I can't remember what was said, but an apology was in order. I had so wanted to get to know her and that conversation had gone terribly wrong. She wrote back with a very gracious reply and accepted my apology. We were able to meet up for conversation and coffee, and thus began a wonderful friendship. I am so grateful that she was willing to forgive me and that a friendship was able to blossom out of such an awkward start.

Our friendship exists on this deep and intimate level. I can't tell you what her favorite color is or her favorite kind of music, but I could tell you about her heart and her longings and desires and her story - that was how we knew one another. There were weekends where she would come and stay and we would just talk and enjoy conversation and coffee. I always felt rejuvenated after spending time in her presence. She left me feeling as though I had just encountered some wonderful thing and being with her always left my heart full.

Her marriage was something to celebrate. And last weekend, there was much celebrating.
We danced and sang and talked and cried. It was a lovely time.
Friday night after the rehearsal dinner, we sat together at a table and let out squeals that tomorrow was going to be the day she was getting married. Shelley's story is not mine to share. But as I thought about her, I was reminded of redemption and how Jesus is the Great Redeemer. The three of us (Shelley, her best friend and maid of honor Heather, and myself) sat in this moment as we all remembered what God had done. Only He could make her story this beautiful.

And oh. It was beautiful indeed. From her dress, to the ceremony, and the dancing - it was all so very beautiful. When the preacher announced them as husband and wife, she lifted her hand in worship - one of the many times I had tears that day. It took me back to the first Sunday morning that I saw her, and it was such an honor to be there and witness this glorious marriage ceremony take place.
A picture of redemption. Glorious, beautiful, amazing redemption. Only God can create pictures like this. My friend Shelley and her wonderful husband.
More to come this week on redemption as there was a bit of that this weekend for me as well....

The Faces on my Couch

I have a couch. It's leather and dark cherry brown and it's comfortable too I suppose.

But my couch is special. It's special because of the faces that come and sit with me there. The couch holds the faces of people dear to my heart. The couch is special because of the stories shared, the struggles fought for, and the laughs or tears had on it with various women in my life.

I guess since I became a mom, more often than not, my social life happens at my house, on my couch. Rather than out a restaurant over a margarita or a cup of Starbucks. My couch has become kind of this sacred place where not only do I have my quiet time and journal before Tommy wakes up or I head off to work, but it's become a place where precious women come to sit and share their hearts and life with me.

Sometimes it's Anna. My cousin and friend. We talk about our obsession with Bravo and the Real Housewives. We talk about our family. We talk about our longings and dreams and struggles. We talk about how we have seen one another transform throughout the years. We offer each other life and encouragement and truth.

Sometimes it's Sarah. We try to meet up once a month and share breakfast and coffee on my day off of work and before she has to go in to work. We talk about life and where we are struggling, where we are wanting more and needing more. Our visits leave us both feeling rejuvenated and grateful for deep friendship.

Sometimes it's Mal. We talk about married life quite often -where we struggle, where we have fun, where it's hard, and where it's good. We swap cooking and baking advice and she enjoys my little boy. I love watching them interact and being near her always makes me feel more youthful and vibrant.

Sometimes it's Tiffany. Since we are sisters-in-law, we talk about family and relationships and work and all the needed gossip and drama we have to get out or otherwise explode. We are so alike that it's uncanny and being in relationship with her has always come natural and easy. We have fun together, laugh together and understand each other. And soon her face won't be appearing much on my couch anymore as she's moving away. And both me and my couch will miss her like crazy and I'm still trying to not think about it because I will cry everywhere for days when she's gone.

Sometimes it's Andrea. She comes over most every Wednesday and I've enjoyed knowing her and being known by her. I am aware of what a gift it is for her to trust me and talk to me. She reminds me where I have impact and I have enjoyed our friendship and fellowship since we started meeting on a more regular basis.

Every once in a while it's Heather and I wish she were there more. I love how she always makes herself comfortable and curls up on one end of the couch and then talks to me knowing that she belongs there and that she is safe and she can unwind and be herself and it's okay to do that there.

On a more rare occasion these days, it's sometimes Shelley. She makes herself comfortable and puts on her pj's when she comes to stay the night at our house. And we will stay up late to talk about our stories and our lives and soak each other in as our time together isn't as frequent as we'd like.

Sometimes it's Bethany or Sarah and they bring their little boys so that Tommy has someone to play with while we try to visit and talk about grown up things on the couch. We talk about motherhood and marriage and life and it always feels sad to see either of them go because they are two of my very best friends and I wish there could be more time for grown up conversation.

Lori used to come sit on my couch until she moved away. On colder nights we ate grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato basil soup and drank coffee. And sometimes when she comes to town to visit, my couch awaits her visit and I love to listen to all of her very exciting stories about her very exciting life.

And of course there is Todd. He has seen the best and worst of me on that couch. Tear stained, sick, angry, lazy.....rested, happy, playful, seductive. We cuddle there, we cry there, we fight there, we plan there, we offer life and truth to one another there.

Interesting to think how so many friendships and conversations and REALationship happens on one couch. I hope it continues to invite more of the same over the years.

This post is dedicated to my cousin Anna who often texts me to tell me that she misses being there to sit on my couch. You inspired this post today. There's always a spot for you girl...and grape koolaid waiting for you in the fridge.