Good morning…
Leaning against our foyer table was our seventeen-year-old son’s lacrosse gear, used hard in the state tournament game, and his guitar amp was sitting nearby, left over from their rock band’s recent graduation gig. Laid out in our living room were backpacks and bedrolls unchosen by my son and my husband for their week long hiking/camping trip with Lovett’s rising senior class. Piles of laundry, some folded, some not, were strew across the couches, awaiting either a trip to the Pisgah National Forest, a trip back to college, or a trip to a family member’s closet, dresser, or underwear drawer. A mound of bedding, boxes of contact lenses, and shoes of all sorts brought home by our college-aged daughters had not yet found their summer home. Text books and biology notes filled full the dinning room table as our oldest daughter, home for the weekend from her summer school class, found a temporary place to rest. Dishes washed and dried, but not yet put away, sat on the cluttered kitchen counter beside dirty dishes in the sink. Our home boldly embodied the mayhem of May.
“Would you like to meet for a happy hour glass of wine around 4:30 pm?” I texted Kitty Crenshaw, co-author of The Hidden Life Awakened. Before she could answer, around 12:00 pm, I heading to my friend’s welcoming home to join a gathering of passionate women yearning to discuss the recent, controversial vote in the United Methodist Church. After enjoying a yummy lunch, sharing a tearful, important conversation, and debriefing with our gracious hostess, I did not get back to my phone until around 4:00 pm, two full hours later than I had planned. “Yes!” I have my daughter’s truck so I can come to you,” Kitty had texted back hours ago, as she was unexpectedly in Atlanta from Jacksonville, Florida supporting her daughter through a medical scare.
“I can come to you,” caused me to pause. Remember the picture I just painted of the crazy, hot mess of our home? “I can come to you,” would be quicker, it would be easier than meeting up at a quiet restaurant like I had envisioned, but my dearly loved friend Kitty would see our home for the first time at its absolute worst. Dancing in my head were visions of Kitty’s gorgeous, art-filled, ninth floor condo overlooking the St. John’s River. The extreme contrast of our homes made my heart laugh. On the spectrum of beauty, one could not be further away from the other. But “I can come to you,” it was such a gracious offer, an offer I simply could not refuse. So, before drive home from the group’s dynamic discussion, I took a deep breath, texted Kitty my address, and quickly received her message, “Ok. See you soon. On my way.”
When Kitty arrived ten minutes later, we hugged big, our dogs greeted, and our God-given friendship took center stage. Fading to the background were the lacrosse gear and guitar amp, the camping stuff and college student clutter, the laundry and messy kitchen counter. Waltzing with ease through the disheveled distractions, we grabbed two glasses and a bottle of red wine, as we headed out on to our back porch to soak in the nurture of nature. Our two hour conversation brought life and more life, joy and more joy, love and more love.
“Thank you for offering such a sweet little get away moment,” texted Kitty, before her evening drew to its end.
“It was marvelous to have you on our back porch,” my return text replied. “I love every moment with you. Shared time is a friend of discernment. What a joy to discern more deeply God’s will with you. I pray that your daughter’s health continues to improve. Keep me updated, my special friend.”
Here is the Scripture verse that pops now in my mind: Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you’ll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven (Matthew 5:16, MSG). Mess or no mess. Health scare or no health scare. Wine or no wine. God lives in and through us as we keep open house with our generous hearts.
…Sue…
