I'm packing up all my belongings in preparation for moving overseas for several months, and I'm making all sorts of fun discoveries. At the back of my closet, hidden under bookshelves, and buried in old purses are all sorts of things I'd forgotten about that are bringing back good memories. Highlights so far include $40, a Celtic cross pendant from Ireland, and mementos from various trips overseas. Today I unearthed some old notebooks and came across some thoughts I scribbled down shortly after I'd moved into Blake House two years ago. I wanted to share them here because they are full of hopes that God definitely fulfilled -- and reading them again has renewed my gratitude for the opportunity to live in, and open up, this beautiful home with my beautiful housemates.
I recently moved into a house with my older sister and two good friends. It isn't new or glamorous, but as our separate lives spill out of boxes into shared space, it is becoming home. We spent much of the weekend in the kitchen, as if in unspoken agreement that that room simply had to be settled first. We silently gloried in the newfound freedom of a big kitchen. Every task seemed elevated - even grating carrots and slicing mushrooms were actions filled with celebration when performed on gleaming granite counters and destined to feed dear folks. In this new home, basil smells more nuanced, fruit tastes sweeter, coffee is supremely rich, for they are defining our hope for the way we will eat and drink and fellowship in this place. This weekend's meals were our first offerings to those who partook of them -- Be comforted around this table. Be known. Eat much, eat well. Come often, and linger. I look forward with great anticipation to the lively gatherings or uplifting conversations that might take place here as friends old and new pass through.
Thanks to all those who came, ate, drank, lingered.