Filling.

It’s been a while since I’ve written. Honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve known what to write. These past few weeks have been a blur of fantasticness. Life has been moving quickly and I’m just trying to keep up. Through it all, the Lord has began to do some great things in my heart (stay tuned for a little bitta that coming soon…).

Last week (as you shudda seen) my bestie came for a little wonderful visit. Katelynn, being her sacrificial self, came to visit for four-ish days. People keep asking what we did. I don’t really know how to answer it, really. We did life. We just … yeah, did life. We walked and talked and sat at coffee shops and talked and woke up nice and slow and talked and made breakfast and talked and talked and talked. There was so much to say, so many words to pass back and forth between us. And we did. We used all our words, pouring them out on each other with a sigh of relief in being known again.

You could say we caught up. But I like how Kate put it. The last night we laid down to sleep and just a minute or two after saying goodnights, she said, “my brain is empty.” I asked her what she meant. “I’ve told you everything,” she said. And she’s right. We asked all the questions we had, talked about all the stored up topics, told all the retained stories and secrets and surprises… and then talked through the unexpected stuff of life that just doesn’t come up when you’re not making eye contact.

There’s something about being in the flesh together – about sitting close on a couch and hugs and eye contact and “here let me warm up your coffee.” There’s something about time in the same room and coffee shops; something to putting faces with names from stories and décor to rooms referenced. There’s something incarnational about it if you ask me. And I think this is why Jesus came in the flesh the way He did. There’s something about it. Something that gives understanding and voice to that which cannot be heard or understood apart from a common language and shared space. There’s something to it, you know?

Kate left on Wednesday afternoon. I hugged her goodbye and she told me not to cry. She ran in to the Southwest terminal and I was a big girl for about 4.3 seconds. Then I cried the whole way home. Yes … the Whole. Way. Home. (Thankfully, the sweet boy with me let me be my blubbering self in the car. And on his couch. And in his bathroom. Sigh. What a champ.) Soon enough she was back in her Chicago with her rock star of a husband. And I can’t wait to call her this week.

Sigh. The word I prayed for my time with her was “filling”. I asked that God would give us a filling time together. And He gave us exactly that. I feel full – my soul has been nourished and fed. I am known once again by one of the people who know me best. I know her life and struggles and hopes and plans and fears. And I know them because I was here and she was here. Here, on this big brown couch. Here, we sat together and dreamed and wondered and teared just a bit.

He's good, you know? He’s so so good to us. He didn’t have to give us best friends or lives to show them. He didn’t have to send us on east coast adventures full of questions and relationships and decisions and teachable moments. He didn’t have to give us sweet roommates who love well or a boy that les me cry. He didn’t.

He didn’t.

Ah. But He did.

Because He is good. So good.