They orbit a Center in cyberspace. And sometimes in that sacred galaxy, entered words find their mark. There’s a holy collision. Splayed hearts melt, mold, and magnetize–creating and drawing new friendships.
Friendships that share joys and dreams and fears and hurts. That fervently pray and encourage and inspire. That speak truth into each others’ lives.
Yes, real friendships.
Heart to heart. Spirit to spirit.
But sometimes the cyber mist lifts.
And hearts behold face-to-face.
Sticky sisters from four states for such a time as this. Women with a vision of shining brightest in a land of shiny things.
No knives under my pillow.
Not that I expect that.
Even for a wisp of a second.
It is a weekend of love and laughter and tears and dreams and ministry.
And lots of peppermint ice cream pie. With crushed Oreos and dark chocolate fudge sauce.
It begins when Michigan and Florida converge in Tennessee.
Georgia arrives later and we add Mexican spice to the weekend menu.
Me, Tami, Brenda, Melinda
Melinda and Tami
Sock sisters following Jesus.
A morning of ministry.
Melinda, Toni, Tami, and part of me.
And a three-hour lunch.
Me, Tami, Melinda Y, Melinda L
The weekend continues with a lesson in the fine art of eating M&M’s, emerging from the fog of the directionally challenged, tons of food, worship, a Saturday Night Live skit, a missed plane and an unexpected overnight stay (me) for Sunday night football.
In the end, I sit sandwiched between a turbine and a wing. My body reverberates with engine rumbles while my heart rearranges itself with pieces gained to fill spaces from pieces left behind. It realigns itself with Him.
At times it seems I float on white foam billows. Other times I tiptoe on misty tentacles. There are moments where I see clearly, and times when the world seems to stand still in spite of speed.
But mostly the plane is enveloped in fog. I have no sense of place, no sense of direction. And I am grateful for a pilot who knows the way.
And I’m grateful for sticky sisters, real friends, sock souls, who journey with me.
And a Pilot who knows the way.
Celebrating Bridget Chumbley’s One Word at a Time Blog Carnival on Gratitude.
Spilling this for Emily’s Imperfect Prose on Thursdays.