Today is NEOTA day. Honestly, I’m not sure what that means or why it constitutes a day off when school’s only been back in session for 7 weeks or so. What I do know is that my kids are home for the day.

It’s also Rick’s day off so that makes for fun times at the McKee home.

The only bummer is that it’s cold and rainy so our pumpkin patch plans are a scratch. Undaunted, we have regrouped to the classic way every kid knows is best for free days indoors: building a fort.

They have collected blankets and pillows from every bed in the house. They have raided Caleb’s closet (otherwise known as “the armory”). They have smuggled rations. And, they are now ready to defend the house against The Giant Troll Butt. (That would be Rick.)

NEOTA Day, I don’t know why you exist but thanks for giving us a fun day at home together…

Did I mention that it’s almost Noon and they’re still in their pjs? A toast to St. NEOTA…

I must confess that I’ve been feeling a little bit sorry myself lately. I’ve been feeling the pangs of long-distance friendship. My friend Amy had her art show opening a few weeks ago – two hours away. Two hours makes it kind of hard for popping in to say “hi” and delight in her work. I was so disappointed that I couldn’t go. Then there’s Missy in Nebraska. She & Bill just brought home the latest addition to their fam: sweet Lucy adopted from Ethiopia. If I’m honest with myself, I realize I’ll probably never even get to hold little Lulu, let alone know her. And, what of Nancy in Orlando who has just survived breast cancer? Her faithfulness has inspired me from afar and I just long to stop by with a basket of tea and homemade bread. To pray with her, hear this phase of her story. To play cards with her and Dave…

Time will get away from me if I begin to tell you about Coletta in Colorado or Mayra in Mexico or Sunghee in S. Korea or Scott & Lis in Indy or Tim & Tammy in Chicago or Tom & Julie in Columbus… on and on the list could go. Precious friends that have left an indelible mark on my life. How can I begin to explain the soul sharing and the heart transforming that happened in scraps of time here and there. Scraps that have been woven together in creating the tapestry of my life today.

Each scrap represents an investment – them in me and me in them. A conversation or a perspective or a moment in time that shaped me. Sometimes through tears, sometimes laughter. Through various life stages, disappointments and challenges. Walking through the mess of life together, we were impacting each other.

Today, life marches on…  Blogs and letters keep the connection alive. But, there’s no denying that it is different. All relationship comes with risk and change.

Now we’re scattered here and there, around the world. And, I’m reminded, once again, that I can choose gratitude. I can feel sorry myself or I can thank God for these dear ones. I can pray for them. Rejoice and mourn with them from afar. Hope with them for the consummation of all things in Jesus.

And, of course, there are the new scraps. New fibers in the tapestry of this life…woven right in alongside the others. Adding texture and color that makes the whole piece more beautiful.

Early morning beckons. A blanket of darkness still covers our town. I’m cozy under the down comforter wondering again when we will “Fall Back” and light will join me as I wake.

Before foot even touches the floor, the battle begins. Dishwasher needs emptied. Lunches need packed. Did I remember to put Caleb’s jeans in the drier? Now, I’m off on a rabbit trail…Why is that boy so hard on his jeans? Every day is a new grass stain…

I fight to shove it all aside. Just for a moment or two.

My mind leaps back in time to days gone by. Young girl rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she pads up the long, blue-carpeted hallway. He’s there as usual. In his rose-colored, wing back chair. Right next to the big, bay window. His Bible lays open on his lap. A scrap paper with scribbled prayer reminders has fluttered to the floor. He hears me coming… “Good morning, Shannie.” And so begins another day.

It wasn’t always that way. But, somewhere about the time I was turning nine, God was grabbing his heart. And, for the years that followed in that old house on Shermanwood, morning after morning, that’s where you could find him. Pausing before the busyness of the day set in. He was meeting, in the still of the day, with the One who made him. (And, truly, in a house of four women, it was the only still – the only time there wasn’t chatter filling every nook of the house.)

Those early morning memories blaze a trail for me as I struggle to shake off the sleepiness, push aside the day’s demands, and steal a few moments alone with God.

I start the tea kettle, light a candle, and start the music. Peace washes over me as the simple piano notes weave their way around my heart. And, I rest. Nestled in the corner of our couch, sitting with my Lord. Sometimes I sit there for a long time. Just waiting for my heart to acknowledge Him. To really recognize that He is there. Other times a journal lies open and I pray. Seeking, petitioning, worshipping, asking. And, then there is the reading. Words breathed by the Maker of heaven and earth and written down in a great Book of hope. “Here it is, Shan. Here is what I want you to know. The most important mysteries of life – I recorded them here for you.” He has given it to us – grandest story of all time. I read and I glimpse His heart. Even just a glimpse and my heart is brimming with the fullness of it. The message of grace and hope that calls out to all of us.

Really, there are lots of ways to slow down. A weekend away. A hike through the bounty as the leaves change. A rich meal with dear friends. A meaningful conversation around a backyard fire. These all help us to pause. To rest.

But this slowing – this daily, early-morning slowing – gives rhythm and purpose to my days. It reminds me of the truth and gives fuel for my soul. My heart needs that reminding. And, my soul craves that feasting.