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As I paid for my bottled water at Denver Internati

As I paid for my bottled water at Denver International, the cashier told me I had pretty eyes. I told her the same because she did. They were gray-blue like my dad's, and the memory of his made me smile.⁠
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I flew my way toward my home state for my uncle's memorial. Uncle Dan, like my dad, was one of the sweetest fellas that ever walked God's green earth. The gal in the seat next to me on the flight had the kindest way of engaging with people, including me. I took mental notes about the way she put people at ease, just like my uncle put people at ease.⁠
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After landing in Oklahoma City, I ubered my way to a nearby coffee shop where I waited for my sister to pick me up. My driver, Troy, played WayMaker by Leeland on the radio, and we talked about how that's a song that helps keep us in a healthy head space. We shared our mutual affinity for Johnny Cash, too.⁠
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Troy deposited me at the coffee shop, and I ordered my iced chai latte with pumpkin. The barista, after asking and then hearing why I was in Oklahoma, tried to give me a gift card except for some reason the register wouldn't let her. I told her, "No matter! It truly is a thoughtful gesture I much appreciate." ⁠
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⁠I'm not the biggest fan of small talk, and traveling alone always presents 57 opportunities for small talk. But then you're in the midst of small talk after small talk, and you discover you're really knee-deep in signs and wonders from heaven itself. As you move from A to B to C, among untold numbers of strangers, you feel like God gives you a hug and a message that says, "I see you." That's what he did for me on a Wednesday, and I'm still thinking about it this Sunday evening.⁠
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Flowers pictured are courtesy of my aunt, who beautifully choreographs her garden like a Broadway professional choreographs a show!

Good morning, Pumpkin! Good morning, October! Good

Good morning, Pumpkin! Good morning, October! Good morning, glory of fall that reminds us that change—and letting go—are very good. ⁠
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#whenchangefindsyou

I may very well qualify as an internet mema becaus

It took almost ten years to feel like I was at hom

It took almost ten years to feel like I was at home and had a real belonging place here in Colorado Springs outside my family. A DECADE. I've lived places where it didn't take nearly that long, but here it did. Gosh, is it hard when finding your place and people takes an eternity, especially if your life doesn't let you set up camp in one place for very long. (Hello, military spouses!) ⁠
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I know as well as anyone that sometimes, we can do all the "right" things to try to connect with folks, and still we have a hard time doing so. That doesn't mean there's something wrong with us. Maybe that's because right now, the good Lord simply wants our attention somewhere else. He wants us to tend to some things within our family, our hearts, and/or our relationship with Him. ⁠
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More often than not, the miracle of making community just takes a whole lot more time and energy than I think it should. ⁠Is it worth it? YES. But quality rarely means quickly. ⁠
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If you're one whose friendship landscape looks leaner than you'd like right now, I encourage you to invite someone into your home or to the coffee shop. I encourage you to go outside after dinner and see who you see. Regularly show up where potential friend-people are. Keep cracking away at it and Do. Not. Give. Up. You're not the exception to the rule! God wants each and every one of us to have our place and our people, and that includes you. ⁠
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#whereIbelongWednesday⁠
#backroadstobelonging

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