An evening cup

Guess what? Unlike most of the universe who loves to wake up to a hot cup of coffee, I'm a night owlie and a tea girl. And I guess, sometimes being a tea girl turns me into a night owlie, because I don't give the caffeine enough time to depart before bedtime. It's possible.

This is my new domestic BFF. Thank you, Robin, for being one of my real BFF's and for knowing I really needed this.

So I'm a little thrown by the fun {virtual coffee} happenings on Tuesdays at Amy's blog, Lucky Number 13. I want to play, really I do. I just feel like I'm bringing the wrong equipment; like the girl who comes to the gym with makeup on (wait, you're right, I am that girl.) So coffee lovers, I hope you'll let me into your inner circle with my rad, magical, non-sweating Starbucks Venti iced tea cup.

I can't invite you over for coffee because I don't have any, and please don't visit in the morning at all. But I'd LOVE for you to come by in the quiet evening. I'd be sipping iced tea with the candy cane-ish straw, and would be happy to share! (my tea, not my special straw.)

When all my people are sound asleep, we could chat for hours like we did in college, putting our relationships above everything else in the world. Remember the days when you didn't even care that you felt tired, because you could stay up till the wee hours of the morning, listening to music, eating ice cream, and pouring over every single tidbit of conversation you had that day? That sounds like the best, to me.

If you were sitting on my couch next to my sleepy weiner dog and me right now, this is what I'd have to say.

I'd tell you that my Bible study at church this morning was awesome. It was like ten posts worth of truth and wisdom I could share straight from the mouth of that crazy and amazing Beth Moore. Here's one tidbit which is from her newly revised study Breaking Free.

Much of the book revolves around some verses in Isaiah, one of which details God's promise to "bind up the brokenhearted." This chapter talked about what it meant to have a broken heart, and what it meant to have it bound up. The original language for "bind" was as in a bandaging of a wound, or a compression to stop the bleeding. If you have a physical wound, it initially hurts to press a bandage onto it, but the bleeding stops. When we have been dealt our biggest, most painful blows in life, God's promise is to place his scarred hand over our hemorrhaging heart. He presses in, stops the bleeding and then begins to heal us. I love that visual.

I'd tell you that in light of my dynamic relationship with my daughter, I'm kind of feeling I should READ THIS that I heard about over at Mama Manifesto. It sounds like a great fit for the things I want to teach her and don't really know how to. I also have The Wonder of Girls sitting on my table, waiting for me to read. I'd ask you if you've read them.

I'd tell you that there is a lot in my heart to pray about right now. My mom needs prayer for a sickness, and I feel really sorry she is struggling. The flooding in Australia is tugging on me. My friend has co-workers there who emailed her and said the areas of Brisbane and Ipswich were going to be completely under water in a matter of hours. That was a matter of hours ago. This TV station has a good website of the latest news. And then Joanne. *Sigh.* Her health is really tugging at my heart too. If you spend time on her blog and read their story, particularly about their marriage, you'll agree that the stroke she had this morning seems like a potentially insurmountable obstacle. Lord, come swiftly to all these hurting ones.  


I'd tell you that I'm totally excited and also totally terrified to pursue this project during the 40 days leading up to Easter. Seriously, this blog Clover Lane is filled with practical goodness. Just check out her sidebar and you can spend hours studying how to do stuff you want to know how to do.

Finally, I'd tell you that I'm having trouble staying disciplined with going to bed at 11:00 like I should. That is my target. I rarely hit it and it's because I'm not disciplined. Then, after beating around the bush with chatter about what I'm gonna wear with my new leg warmers my stylish pal gave me for my birthday, I'd reluctantly ask you to leave so I could be no more than an hour late getting to bed. (Does anyone else besides me feel like they are running late getting to bed? I'm pretty sure I'm the only one.)

But hey, at least it's still Tuesday. Barely.

Thanks for the chat; I needed it.