she does my heart good

'you wanna come over for lunch?' is the unsaid 'please come over, i need to take a shower' ...

we don't surprise each other.  we don't rush to coat anything in sprinkles - we just offer each other the half-eaten cupcake and shrug if the other kindly refuses... no sweat off our backs.

our children run around like a bunch of Norwegian kamikazes awaiting their demise - cause if i were to get in their heads, all the current joy is worth it.  they scream and giggle and dance and cry and yell and hug and whisper... until, if they're lucky, they all fall asleep for a big sleepover at one of our homes.

what would i do without her?  in the midst of transitions my first thought goes to 'if we ever moved away i couldn't ever have what i have with jess...' and then i let it go.  the idea of moving.

so i sit here this afternoon after sitting on her back patio while six children ran in and around and over us and then back out again -- we sipped a beer and Baileys at 1:30p in the afternoon and talked about what God was doing in our lives... it was is wonderful.  she had so much to share as did i... we smiled at each others trophies to God's work in our lives and rested our head back on the lawn chairs.  life is good.  God is good.  and we don't want to do it alone.

we met originally over eight years ago when kyle and i moved from bellingham to plant a church... and in the midst of those years we've both experienced multiple churches and are now finding ourselves sitting together at the same service every sunday morning -- ok, that's not accurate, being summer and all we hit or miss the formal church gathering ... and this last Sunday Kyle and I went to the 10:45a and they went to the 9:00a.  but in the least, we are worshiping with the same body of believers each Sunday and praying for the same leaders; gearing up for the same outreach opportunities and engaging in the same prayers for others in the body.  sometimes i look down the aisle and find her leaning forward with a smile... like we're 'thumbs-upping' each other that God's still doing what He's always done with us.

til i'm on my death bed and slurping jell-o through a straw, jess will be bringing me a drink while tipping back her Bailey's from a child's sippie cup and we will have, once again, one of our most real and wondrous conversations about what is happening... of course, at that point, i'll be irritated that i can't do my water aerobics anymore while jess curses that she smells like a bar after dropping her drink down the front of her gown.

until that day, jess...

I LOVE YOU!