I’ve always been busy. From walking to trails or friends’ homes as a child to the freedom of my first car – a sweet 1977 Buick Electra lovingly dubbed the Banana Boat – I learned early how to escape the chaos of home by going. By late high school I was a road trip expert and was almost never home before the clock hit a.m. This carried on through the insomniac days of college, the year of living on a charter bus called Big Daddy touring the country, and the grown-up days of juggling corporate life and social butterflying. I’ve learned that busy can fill your days like static, like a holiday, or like nails on a chalkboard.

Once in a while, though, busy fills you up, inflates you with the goodness it drives you into. To be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to my weekend. Work has hit a busy season and I was in the office more than usual all week. Seeing lots of blocks and no empty space on my calendar for Sunday made me want to take a nap before even getting out of bed. The day started at church. Some very dear friends asked me to participate in the dedication of their three kiddos, a small ceremony held between services. We spoke Welsh blessings over three little people, prayed that they would know God and His love and be unfettered in becoming who they were made to be in Him. I hope to one day have children of my own, but for now I take seriously the charge to come alongside the parents in my world and pour into their kids in every way I can. It was an honor to be among those committing to walk with these little ones in the journey of faith.

Then was the church service, remembering Pentecost and the birth of this movement carried on wings of fire. As we discussed the messiness of the Spirit and His miracles, I was struck by the realization that a very broken relationship with someone in my church has, I think, been restored. Months ago there was anger and mistrust and hurt; I don’t feel those things anymore. I believe restoration is the greatest miracle of all, and I’ve been blessed by His power in my life once again.

Off now to the wedding of an old roommate. To say we were incompatible would be a wild understatement, but we came through it as friends. We’ve shared many conversations about the struggles of being single women in a harsh and confusing world, and the added complexity of singleness in the Christian bubble. I’ve watched this young woman struggle with her faith and herself and come into a solidity and peace I often prayed she’d discover. The wedding was simple and classic, just like her. While there I caught up with friends I hadn’t seen in years, some of the most dynamic people I’ve ever been blessed to know. They are living with purpose and intentionality and are every bit as committed and focused and passionate as they were when I knew them as fiery college kids. I am better for having known them, and I was happy to remember that as we talked.

Dinner was shared with some new friends, getting to know where they’ve come from and what makes them laugh. I love discovering new people and these are some of the richest I’ve met in a long time. It was a simple meal and simple conversation, and my heart was heavy in a light kind of way as we left to join back up at another home. There we initiated young minds into the greatness that is 80’s fantasy films. Their reactions were more entertaining than the film, and many more hours were spent in conversation.

Sunday was a busy day. I cried more than once, experienced conversational inspiration, felt awkward and shy and engaged and nostalgic and excited and insecure and proud. I was physically and emotionally drained. But I was also full, the best kind of full, the jar-spilling-over-with-fresh-rain kind of full. It was a day spent with friends from many eras, engaging in some of the most significant events in their lives. And that is a good day.


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