Vulnerability

I could try to summorize the Lady Chairs to you, but they simply cannot be explained or described adequately. Nope. They cant.

They have had many names. But my favorite is when people call them a ministry. Now, that may seem very silly. But oh, they are just that. My philosophy from the beginning has been “sit and they will come”, and they do! But many things happen here. They range from serious and deep in the spiritual sense to light hearted and well, girl talk.

It is here where people feel safe (where I feel safe) to explore and question. “5 minute only!” conversations quickly turn into hours and you get so caught up in the moment that bedtimes don’t even exist anymore. I’ll sleep when I’m dead right??

I have so many conversations and memories and stories that I wish I could slpash right onto this blog. I wish you could all experience them. I wish you could all be here, sitting at the chairs. But you can’t.

But, lets get real. Not all of my life is lived on ugly chairs. No, not even close. Life is messy and life happens. Life is meant to be shared. Although this is a tribute to the special moments that do happen here. Not all of them come from the beloved chairs, but they make it to them in the end ☺.

The girls that have crawled into my heart are very real people- they are very much “my girls” and I am very much their “mama”.

I love being their “mama”.

I am a caretaker. I love taking care of people and doting on them and making them feel very loved. I thank God everyday for the roles he has placed me in, even though sometimes it wears me out and makes me weary. I love people. I love being with people. I love being in community with people. There is something so real, so intimate about genuinely living life with people. It is humbling. Like they say—to be known is to be loved. But I have come to know the reality of to be known is to be loved, but to love and be loved is to be vulnerable. And vulnerability hurts. A deep aching hurt. I have come to know that feeling especially with the loss of Anabel. The whole hall felt it. Feel it- we FEEL it. It is still fresh to me.

My hall pulled together so very much two weeks ago. We sat together at the 9 o’clock service, stepped out to pray together; to cry together. 28 of the 36 sat together in chapel, holding hands and offering support. We are still a family. The bonds we have cannot be broken. And I trace this deep support back to three, very ugly, very dirty, lady chairs.

And although there are many laughs here, it is a disservice to forget about the tears. I am still very sad and tears come and they leave in the trail of laughter. But truth be told as much as it hurts to be vulnerable, I am very thankful for the genuineness it brings.