I have less than a handful of sister friends across the states who I can turn to via text message or phone call. It can be 2 words or 2,000, a stuttering and spluttering of what life is like in a day, and how deeply I need communion with God.
And then I’ve got tangible, right down the road friends who are becoming nearer and dearer family to us every day, and if I called, they’d answer, too, and pray, too, and love me out of the deep bellowing of grace in their hearts.
It’s an intricate network, this connecting woman to woman, soul to soul across all sorts of boundaries and lines– geographical, economic, social, spiritual– it’s a deep bond that shoots, like healthy blood through big veins.
I read about it in Acts, but perhaps it spans all the way back to Eve and her friends, to Ruth and Naomi, who cared for each other in their deep need.
I lay on the floor and watch the fan blades spin, air circulating up and down and through my lungs and back out again.
Isaiah pokes me in the eye and Eliot reads pretend thank-you notes.
I breathe in and out and watch the bleach-white blades, and all is time, spinning.
“The kingdom of home is the place of refuge, comfort, and inspiration.
It is a rich world where great souls can be formed, and from which men and women of great conviction and dedication can emerge.
It is the place where the models of marriage, love, and relationship are emulated and passed on to the next generation.
One of the great losses of this century is the lost imagination for what the home can be if shaped by the creative hand of God’s Spirit.” –Sally Clarkson
If the intricacy of a home can contain all of this, my place as a mother is, indeed, most intricately designed.
But the other day, Isaiah was sick and Travis and I cancelled a date we’d planned on for weeks. And my heart broke because I couldn’t walk arm-in-arm into a room full of colleagues with my husband, kindly beaming beside me.
And on that same day, a friend text me and asked questions that dragged the worries out of my heart and into the open air.
And another friend just said she was sorry, and still, I remembered that I’m not alone. Sitting on the chair, crying, watching those fan blades, breathing, but not alone.
The network is response and feedback. It’s encouragement and movement, constant heart-beating and life-sharing. It’s imagination that gives birth to newness here in my heart and here in my very own home, in my very own interactions with my boys.
And on the hard days, it’s actually God, spreading Himself into all of us, through the kindness of each other.
It’s a beautiful kind of glory, indeed.
Once a month, we’re pursuing sight and viewing the dailyness of our lives with fresh vision and fresh spirit.
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