How peculiar

I sit on a four-post bed fit for a queen. Out in the kitchen with the wood stove I hear my friend singing yet another Christmas song. Two home-schooled kids are receiving their assignments for the day from their enthusiastic mom. Outside the snow on the ground is melting, creating the ever-present-with-the-changing-seasons “snirt.” The land bares a greater resemblance to northern Wisconsin than Chicago, so I must consciously remind myself that I am in New York. They call it the north country.

Saturday morning I stepped off an airplane into Albany, New York. I was so relieved and thankful to be on the ground for the final time, as underneath the skin of my forehead, cheeks, ears and nose, popping and pounding was undergo like I had never felt before. I knew, though, from our first flight that day that I would experience some relief within my face with my body planted on the earth instead of in the air. And I had plenty of time to recover as I and my lovely friend waited on a concrete windowsill with the heater blowing beneath us for three and half hours.

Time passed as I rested, read, blew my nose a lot, talked to my mom and looked out the window at this state I had never before set foot in. Hundreds of miles away from my “other home” in Tennessee and my home in Rockford, the first car I saw pull up was a blue Saturn with Illinois license plates. I guess I’m never that far from home.

Later on snow flurries swirled around as I watched for a red PT Cruiser. Car after car passed with disappointment. But finally, off in the distance, we squinted to see the glint of red and the Chrysler symbol. Yes, there she was. We quickly gathered our things and rushed out to meet the woman who my friend calls her “non-mom.” The moment I meet her I can see why. She welcomed us with excitement and open arms. We loaded ourselves in the car, and before even leaving the airport road, she excitedly talked about having “her girls” here.
I knew I was in for a unique experience.

As my week has slowly passed, I have met myriads of people. Lore has always called them all her family. I think I disregarded the validity and strength of that word until I met them. Never before have I met a people who so completely embody love, hospitality and family. I have been welcomed with open arms and hearts by those whom I had never before been acquainted. They accept me openly because Lore counts me a friend…but their acceptance steams from more than that. There is a love so deeply ingrained in the hearts of these people. There is a deep sense and revelation of the church as it was created to be--a body of believers living together as family in community. It’s beautiful. And not only this, but talent overflows here. It’s almost ridiculous. Yet, in it all, none are cocky or stuck on it. Humility, genuineness and grace abide.

In it all, whereas I would normally play the comparison game and wish myself to be them, I have taken their example as that…an example of the fruits of discipleship…an example to glean and grow from. They have exemplified attributes I desire to possess, and as I leave this place in two days, I pray that I will not forget what has been illustrated to me this week, that I may apply myself to cultivating the same spirit within myself. These are fantastic people. After spending thirty minutes with my friend’s best friends, I wished that they were mine too. They are refreshing, peculiar people to find, and I thank God for the time I’ve spent with them. I know it won’t be my last.