Our church has an odd Sunday morning schedule. You can hear the sermon early or late then, in between, there’s worship and what I call directed fellowship. This way everyone is together for part of the time, and the odds of people attending the same church for years and never knowing it, are reduced. The directed fellowship time is when we grab a cup of coffee and a snack, (or not), and ask each other the questions for the day, related to the sermon. This method of doing church was way to abstract, even for my brain, when we began. Now I love it. It works. It makes the sermon stick. It encourages relationship. It promotes depth.
Recently, during one of our directed fellowship times the questions were about being whole hearted or all in. I got together with a couple I’d met once before and we began talking about what those sayings mean to us. Our thoughts about being whole hearted were different in many ways. While all three of us recently moved to East Texas, I’m nearing 60 and a grandma, they are 20something and expecting their first baby.
When we asked each other about being all in, I was hit with one, big, head smacking revelation, to which the three of us related; Am I all in emotionally where God has placed me? Will I embrace Texas with my whole heart?
Ironically, since that revelation East Texas has felt like Colorado. It’s been cold, snowy, icy, filled with snow days, kids out of school, snow-man-front-yard-statuary, (the only kind not frowned upon by our HOA), with “delay and closure” crawls on the local channels, all things so familiar during winter for the past 21 years. When I drive down the road and see snow on the tops of cars and every area normally green, blanketed in white, I wondered I’m living in a dream. But no, this isn’t Colorado. I’m not dreaming and I have a Texas driver’s license to prove it.
I have determined to be all in mentally, emotionally and spiritually in my new home. It’s a process.
While I love the grandeur of the Rockies, the beauty that is Colorado, I also love the San Francisco Bay Area, and Bavaria, and Wales, and Hawaii, and Taiwan. Every place God has gifted me as a home has been beautiful. It’s not leaving the place that causes an ache in my heart. It’s leaving the people.
Already, I would be so sad if God were to tell us it’s time to move on from Texas. Wrapping my heart around East Texas is easier each week because the people here grow more precious to me each day.
The best part of the new heaven and new earth to come, (aside from being with Jesus of course), is that all those I love will be in the same place. I won’t have to miss one single, beautiful, kissable face.
Steve and I love this artist and this song. If you like to listen to great guitar, grab a cup of coffee and enjoy,