the gramma from scotland.
how opening up one's home opens up your heart...
gives warmth and keeps the heartbeat within these walls going.
i don't know when it happened...or how.
okay. i *do* remember how. i kept
for the almost 3 years before we left, friday mornings meant coffee and until the one moved far, far away, the 3 of us and our brood would gather in my little old kitchen and i'm pretty sure that's when my baking began to take off.
friday mornings, to me, mean friendship.
friendship that grew over time and over 2 cups of steaming coffee and that one lone pot of tea.
i thought, when my life changed, that friday mornings would too.
and for a while, it did.
until i find myself in the kitchen here with my oven heating up and my kitchen aid whirring and the coffee brewing for the two cups waiting and that lone teacup sitting for the water that is boiling...
the faces that sit around my table have changed. the conversations are different, but the laughter? the noise of children learning to play, learning to share, learning to be?
neither one cancels out the incredible way He has brought together dear friends there or here, but it is a gift that i don't take lightly that He continues to fill those chairs, that table, my heart when i could have said so easily to Him, nope. i'm done. i'm done opening myself up to the possibility of pain.
and here, He has given me a reason to bake again. to fill up that pink plate again ~ the one that the dearest of friends found just for me.
and i give thanks on this eleventh day of this month that finds me here...and each friday morning that finds my house...and my heart... full.