Nancy and I are at a church conference. That means that Hope and Andrew are taking care of each other. She’s got play rehearsal, he gets to play taxi. She hadn’t called and it was getting late so he went in to wait in the auditorium.
“Watching them rehearse. Not too bad. She saw that I’m here.”
“Thanks, bud. Love you guys.”
That was the conversation that we had a little while ago. Not very complicated, not very profound.
I wrote the text while standing in the back of an auditorium while people were singing songs about God. It’s a thing called worship. For a minute, I felt pretty sacriligious. You aren’t supposed to stand in church and send text messages. (of course, you aren’t supposed to be writing posts, either.)
And then I thought about God sending me the same text. And I thought about the fact that I often send the same kind of text that Andrew sent me, or I want to.
To say to God, “I’m where I’m supposed to be.”
To be willing to suspend judgment long enough to say, “my sister’s friends, these high school kids, they are doing all right.”
To say “My sister and I, we may not be best friends, but we care about each other. We know that because we belong to You, we belong to each other. We see each other.”
And you know, I’m pretty sure that I got the text back. I’m pretty sure that this water in my eyes and heart means that.