I’m sitting at my kitchen table this morning. The sun is soft on the yellow walls. The coffee cup is warm in my hands.
And I wonder, What would she say if she were here?
This is the hardest part of being a writer–not having you with me always. But in a way I do.
You know that, don’t you?
That I think of, pray for, carry YOU in my heart.
If you were this morning, I’d pour you a cup of coffee or make you a pot of tea. I’d pass a plate of daily bread across the table and I’d say.
“Before you start this week, I want you to know–
You’re loved.
You matter.
You’re seen and known.
And that thing you’re worried about?
The One who made you is going to make it okay too.”
Then I’d listen long and hard to your heart.
I’d send you out the door with a smile and tell you,
“Come back tomorrow.”
You will, won’t you?
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