Looking across the table at time, it's as if nothing has changed. She looks just the same, unlike me, and I want to hug her. Steal her away and sit out in the sun catching up on twenty years of living. Dear to me, this one, and I wonder what my life would have been had she not reached in. The way God used her to write the first sentences in the story of my Shoulders and me. Our love story. And I smile at the way she calls him Botzey with this great smile in her heart. She calls our meeting "time travelling".
Her face is lovely, and she is loving in her memory of us. I wish for more time. Long for it. I want to tell her how Jesus raised us. Up. How He brought our love story up out of the ashes and the grave to fill it with great shovels full of life. Love like His. How He lifted my Shoulders. Me. And the entire household of Botz. These things that we tend to forget after awhile...when we've been in the press long enough. How He keeps removing those layers of Lazarus clothes. Death. How He keeps breathing life and love and resurrection into hearts once held in hell hole. Such a mystery. Such a miracle.
But she too, has been hurt by religion, and so I just gaze into the loveliness of who she is, and who she is becoming. I feel overwhelmed at the deep privilege I have of knowing her, and still, after all these years, being able to call her friend. Dr. Awesome.
Looking forward to time travelling home,