Because what I want, what you want, what we really want is more of God.
Maybe "more" looks something like this,
I'm (me + the husband and wee girl) living (read as extended housesitting for a couple) in a double wide trailer (cue my husband singing "This here's the queen of my double wide trailer.") right now.
It is a true blessing. A blessing that allows us to be in full-time ministry without a few bills on our plate. I'm grateful, but there are days when it feels like the walls are closing in on me and that opening my temporary home's doors is something that shouldn't be done for the sake of everyone involved.
I've spent most of my adult life waiting to arrive at some kind of plateau or semi-final destination. Somewhere that I could plant my feet, get my bearings, and start making a rooted life. The truth is that all this time all the rough edged puzzle pieces have been making my life and God has been re-making me.
This red tin roof that hangs over my head and the normal non-trailer sized door with the less than perfect DIY wreath on the door- it is my life, my one God given life. My life is anything but pinterest perfect and it is my imperfect door that I can choose to shut the world out with or open up and invite anyone who might stumble in.
It would be easier to keep it closed. I've kept it closed because of my own fear of rejection.
I bet you've done the same.
My gut feeling is that you have too. Maybe it is because you heard that other woman at church, you know the one, the one with the perfect nails, perfect hair, perfect kids who sleep perfectly through the night. {FYI: She's not perfect- just good at covering up the cracks.}
I believe that the "more" I am aching for isn't going to be found in nuanced rhetoric with the greatest minds on earth. My "more" won't be found in my perfectly decorated no-seams-showing home. No the more I'm looking for is going to be found inside these four walls while sitting across from sisters who just let all the ugly cracks show.
It will be found in community, in community with other women who just straight out plain and simple confess insecurity, tell the truth about their ordinary and link arms side by side to walk forward brave.
We need a space, a holy bench of nodding and knowing, that will level the playing field of motherhood and sisterhood. I want to roll out that bench, open up the door and invite you in. Since I can't invite you in to much more than this space I'm going to turn my gaze on the women around me.
I'm kicking my front door open and I'm gonna yell up and down the street to all the women I know. They are welcome to come on in once a week and put their feet up and let their hair down.
I'm going to make this tiny trailer a place where we can all go.
I'm not redecorating. I might not even clean up the crumbs on the floor and the dust bunnies in the corners. Some nights might be store bought cake and a less than fresh pot of coffee, but I'm welcoming anyone who will come into my imperfect.
I'm realizing in the sisterhood of the velveteen hearted worn and real we just want a place to be and belong and sister that is more than most of us get in our day to day.
Jesus gave us each other to be grace for each other.
My hard is your grace. I get to live the hard stuff and you get to see me and see the grace of God. You get to live the hard stuff and I get to see you being real and say, "Thank Jesus that He holds us!"
Maybe, just maybe, "more" is nailing a sign to our door proclaiming "Come as you are." Because God has been redeeming us with those words through His Son, the Word, since the day we fell and bruised ourselves terminally.
In the words of Philip Yancey,
"When I write about what I believe and how I should live, it sounds neat and orderly. When I try to live it out, all hell breaks loose."
I think this might be one of those hell-breaking-loose and running a-muck times.
I'm willing to test that theory.
