Just Hit Accept

Last night, something miraculous occurred.

The phone rang.

I answered.

In the scope of the everyday ordinary it doesn’t sound like much, the act of seeing a call and accepting it instead of sending it to voicemail.

She didn’t want to do anything but talk. Have conversation. Fellowship with me over cellular airwaves. 

I answered because outside of immediate family, hers is the number set to bypass do not disturb. The phone knows that outside of regular hours, I’ve let her in. 

I think she knows it too.

She didn’t call for anything in particular; she was on her way home with an occupied babe in the backseat and had an hour. 

She called me.

I answered.

We talked for the remainder of her trip. The big chick and the professor tried to find a movie to watch and wandered in wondering where I was and when I was coming back. Her little bit was occupied in the car seat and didn’t make a peep.

I told them to go ahead without me. She let the golden haired angel watch the coveted tablet.

For the first time in eleven years, I didn’t fly of the phone. I paced back and forth as we shared stories and life and thoughts without the interruptions that come when you have smallish (or big) people who naturally need you.

The humans she made? They are incredible. They are bright and kind and full of life and joy and love. She pours into them on the daily and is one of the best mamas I’ve ever known. Mine love hers and hers adore mine.

It all sounds so normal and regular and ordinary, this talking on the phone.

It wasn’t. 

It was holy and miraculous. Monumental. It was the first call I’ve received from a friend, just to talk, since that crazy, amazing, beautiful soul that was “framily” used to phone.

Grief is. It just is. Pieces of you change in ways you never anticipate and try desperately to ignore. Sheltered spaces lay dormant for days, months, years, decades. 

I answered expecting a need that I may willing fill. I hit end and immediately was blown away by the enormity of the gift.

Accepting the call and not letting it ring through was huge. If I’m being fully transparent, she’s been a big step for me, this in real life relationship that requires vulnerability and trust, and the requirement of showing up. I’ve failed more than once as I’ve taken two steps and retreated three. She is all of the things I love and look for in a friend. She’s bright and kind and honest and she loves fiercely. She is beautiful, inside and out. She is intentional. She loves Jesus. She has no idea how meticulously God created her and the immense care He took in the package that makes her up.

I’m an all in or nothing at all girl, mostly, but then so is she. For my 300% she’s at 350. It’s been a decade since I met someone close in age that matches my fierce intensity in friendship. Maybe that’s not true. I’m sure I’ve met humans that would do the same…I just finally let one in.

In letting her in, I see more Jesus.

In letting her in, I let her see me and am honest.

In letting her in, I play. I laugh and wonder a bit more.

In letting her in, I stop and look at clouds and chase small people on playgrounds, and go for walks that don’t close exercise rings. 

Every single day we are “called” to do things that feel uncomfortable. I do a million hard things a day and I’m sure you do too. Things that require you to give of your time and energy and talents. Things that are scary and feel impossible. Things that you don’t feel yet equipped to handle. No less than ten times a day I fully doubt my capabilities and purpose. I’m in a season where all I’ve done is new and it’s hard. Really hard. So very, very hard. I doubt and wonder and second guess and feel unequipped and alone 90% of the time. 

But those thoughts last night were a little less loud because I didn’t send a call to voicemail. I answered. 

Everyday ordinary miracles often show up unannounced and unexpectedly. They may be the voice on the other end of the line, or setting aside the “should” for the “could” in the day. If you’re not looking, you let them slip away. 

Today, I’m grateful I answered the call. 

I’m grateful for friendship.

I’m grateful for eyes that allow me to see and for being given a heart that is expansive.

I’m grateful for making room and opening doors.

I pray you will allow yourself grace in the spaces. That you’ll believe in wonder and accept new possibilities even when you believe the book is written and your chapters have a period. I pray you’ll be brave enough to try the new and go back to the old if it brings you passion and joy. I pray you’ll see yourself as wonderfully made and enough. I pray you have strength to simply answer. Not to give a yes or no, but just to be open to the incoming, whatever it may be. You’ll never know what’s ahead and waiting for you unless you take a breath and say hello.