perfect timing

Warm lights dotted the sky like fireflies. Popping up as the sun faded past the trees and the blue sky deepened into pink and yellow hues slowly darkening to navy. Porch lights. Lanterns. Cozy living room lamps. Homes.

I looked down over the acreage dotted with light from my perch on the second story cupola and wished I could be invited for after supper tea. Comfort. I was seeking comfort and rest — hospitality. My heart yearned for it. To be with another person. To be in a place of comfort.

A few days later, I made my way into the city for my day off from solitude.

White knuckled and wide eyed, I navigated my car towards the city. Glancing at my iPhone occasionally felt much more like a death dare than usual. I hadn’t driven more than 20 miles per hour or more than 20 minutes a day for two weeks. Now, I was making an hour trek into the city.

People drive fast in the city.

… I did not feel fast. I felt like sludge.

As my car progressed, I continually felt further and further from it, as if my body was watching the car move along the freeway as I sat at the on ramp. I was being forced along like sludge down hill. Exhaustion overcame my body, overwhelmed.

“I should just go home.”

I pulled off my exit for Pike’s Place. An immediate hour drive back did not sound ideal, but neither did a market with crowds and noise.

I really wanted to be invited for tea. To sit with someone I knew. To be able to talk about life or nothing at all. I wanted to be in a home. A cozy home.

That’s when I got her text. Perfect timing.

Relief washed my mind and body.

I had told her I may be in Seattle that day, but had held the idea of seeing her loosely.

She invited me for coffee. In her home. So simple and so perfect.

I couldn’t have cared less about the space needle and experiencing the market. I was going to see someone I knew, someone I know ... someone who knows me. Not a stranger or a neighbor that I waved to on a walk, but my dear friend, Carly.

I was getting my wish and it was better than what I had wanted. I was getting the comfort of a home and the comfort of being known.

Carly invited me in, introduced and handed me her six-week-old son, Jameson, to hold and brought me coffee as I sat on her plush couch. Carly, Jameson, being in her home, and that cup of coffee were the most restful moments of my weekend out of solitude. And a highlight of my time spent in Washington. I've learned that the best hospitality isn't planned nor premeditated.

Carly apologized for not being able to go out, but being invited in to share life for an afternoon was exactly what my heart desired. She provided rest for my soul at the perfect timing.

When has someone offered you hospitality and rest when you needed it most?

Thank you, Carly, for the blessing you were to me on my three-week.