I had a different post planned for today. Of course I owed my husband some significant revenge for yesterday’s little “contribution”.
(Itty Bit woke up this morning and promptly said “That’s MY woman!” as I hugged Mr. Daddy… when I explained that someday he’d get to marry his own “my woman”, he looked at me in confusion and said, “What’s her name?”. When I said, “I don’t know”, he came back with the best response ever… “Grandma!”)
Then Melody’s SOOC post popped up and I realized that I had something I wanted to share.
In the span of one week, our bloggy friends circle has included painful things.
death of a child
And as I attended a girls-only-dinner at church and experienced the worship and unity of a room full of women, I looked around to realize that each of these painful things was reflected in the lives of the women who had come.
Each table contained some kind of heartache and stories of mountains that had been climbed and valleys that had been crawled through.
Literally, as we sang (and signed) through the music, a young mother was seated next to me getting violently ill from her chemo.
And at another table sat a woman who had arrived to the dinner intoxicated.
And yet another beautiful girl sat with tears as the speaker spoke of battling through soul-consuming sadness.
Women who had been divorced. Been beaten. Were sick with cancer. Struggling with infertility. Raising their grandchildren. Suicidal. Disabled. Fighting addiction. Jobless. Lonely.
We made up such a diverse group. And sitting at that table, I realized that as picture-imperfect as we were, we were exactly who God wants to spend His days with.
And the Bible stories of Jesus befriending tax-collectors and adulterers and common people – were shown in living color around me. Because they were me.
My son wakes up every morning and asks, “Where are we going?”
And through the ickiness and struggles, I need to remind myself, “Where are we going?”
Because it’s gonna be worth it all.