Yellow Sofa

This February I had a surprisingly strong sense that for some reason, I needed to get away and take advantage of an opportunity to visit one of my closest friends who I had not seen in far too long. I thought I needed to take time after a long season of busyness, to set aside a weekend and make it a “retreat”: physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. Something about coordinating with that friend felt right. It would be refreshing and rejuvenating; everything I felt I needed.

Our original date did not end up working so we pushed our plan back into March. All I had to do was look at the calendar: the weekend we had picked hovered ironically between two realities for me. On one side of it in the calendar a lot of chapters were coming to a close, and on the other side…blank pages.

As the days passed, I found my mind focusing on the possible significance this weekend held in the timeline of my life. It felt important, it felt unique; and now looking at the calendar, it felt planned. Every day, the hope that this weekend would meet my heart, wherever it was, pressed in. Finally, with much anticipation, I packed my bag, plopped myself into my car, turned on the tunes, and began to drive north along Lake Michigan. Just me, the road, and some time to process.

As soon as I pulled up the driveway of my friends’ cottage house, turned off the car and took a second to appreciate the familiar teal shutters and wheat grasses by the door, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be.

My friend’s home is exploding with creativity, beauty, character, and life. The moment you walk through the door you feel like you stepped directly into the most perfect Pinterest post. As I walked up the stairs to her quaint and charming kitchen, I was reminded that her house inspires me; it ignites the creative side of my brain. As I absorbed all the details and enthusiastically tried to explain to her she is the type of person other people (like me) try to copy on Pinterest, deep inside the pieces were all starting to fall into place. With every step on her hardwood floors, I understood better why I had felt I needed to come here. The unspoken truth was that this weekend marked the end of months and months of walking towards the idea of becoming a writer. It also marked the beginning of truly exploring what that might mean. It suddenly made sense. My heart had been longing to go to a place that stirred my imagination.

As we scooped homemade chili into colorful bowls and walked over to her new big wooden table, we finally switched from simply naming all topics of life we needed to cover, to actually sitting down and working through them all carefully. There at the table, I felt the swirling inside begin to slow and the unfolding of all the weekend’s treasures begin. My friend Lis has an unconventional and meaningful approach to life that is contagious and invigorating. She is bursting with creativity and yet is one of the most centered people I know. She has a stunningly simple elegance. After being around her things feel clarified, simpler, prioritized, sharpened, and anchored. And yet, around her I also find my dreams dancing, and the life around me just popping and sizzling right up to the brim.

After a long and satisfying dinner, we took a moonlight walk to the beach and stood side by side listening to the waves, remarking how much calmer the lake seemed tonight than usual. Right there, with a moon beam path in front of me, I was overwhelmed at what was happening. Piece by piece, I was getting to experience the constant unveiling of what God had intended all along to give me that weekend. It was slowly revealing itself to me, becoming more clear and concrete with every hour that passed. It was as if each part of the night, each room in her house held a gift, a specific reminder, planned just for me.

One of those gifts had come right at the beginning of the night. I was reminded how life-giving it is to have friends that take us to that sweet spot: the place where we can feel known, understood, and where we do not have to waste anytime analyzing what we are saying, how we are acting, or what we are doing, but we can just BE whatever we are in that moment. They are the friends who do not need a “warm-up period” before you are back in your rhythm. They jump right into the craziness, the imperfect, the “this is my life” right now. They free me from focusing on the guilt I feel at doing an awful job at keeping up with their lives. They seem ecstatic about GETTING to catch up and allow me to do the same. As a result, they are the friends with which I feel totally present.

But as the night went on, I was also reminded that those friends provide so much more than just that first tier of freedom. Those dear and authentic friendships are also the ones you know would never betray the confidence with which you speak to each other. They are the ones that you are willing to honestly share the raw moments of life without filters and hidden layers. It is the friendship where you can cry about and name deep pain you are dealing with in complete safety. They can laugh hard at the ridiculous moments in life. They are also the ones that are capable of making you go from crying to laughing or the opposite almost immediately (and still not make you feel like an unstable emotional train wreck). They are the friends that for me, provide a sense of conversational calm and rest instead of explanation exhaustion.

Those friendships matter and are shelters for our souls, especially during times of transition. But as we talked into the night, tucked deep into that yellow sofa, I soon realized that was not the only reason I was sitting with her. It was also because we share a dream. When I talked about my fears and concerns about this pursuit of writing, she did not simply respond to them, she sat with me in them. That night, she was far more than just a listening ear to all the highs and lows, she was a companion who has been riding them herself. She was able to identify with the whiplash. She just got it.

It was then that I realized that I had a unique partner in this writing journey I am on, and that she is actually part of my motivation to brave taking new steps. Curled up in her sofa, the final pieces clicked into place. If me stepping out a little more, taking a risk and poking my head a little out of my shell causes her to do the same in any way, then that is enough motivation for me. That might just be why I am writing. I long to be a magnifying glass for all the mind-blowing, intricate beauty that is already out there.

You see, she’s the real deal. She’s the real inspiration. She’s the one who started a secret blog and made me wonder if I could take that step too. She’s the one who naturally bursts with authentic creativity and is capable of inspiring others to do the same. She’s the one who is so gifted, so brilliant, so unique. She’s the one whose presence and words will stir that thing deep in your heart. She’s the one I feel compelled to cheer and push on.

Both before and after going, I talked about how it was a great time to get away, to slow down, to sit in the quiet, to think, to pray, to relax. Which is true. It was all those things, and I knew people would identify with that and can relate to how rare it is to get that in the crazy lives we lead. But the truth is, even though I did not know how to explain it to people, part of me had always felt it was going to mark more than that for me.

I now see that ever since the very beginning, before I could have acknowledged it and put it into words, I had a clear purpose I wanted the weekend to accomplish deep inside. I wanted it to uniquely mark the end of a very precious season, and the beginning of something new for me.

I had a desire for that weekend to inspire me, motivate me, and serve as a final preparation for take-off. I felt like I had been climbing a platform for months, knowing you cannot predict exactly how you are going to feel at the top, doing your best to mentally prepare for the moment when the time would come to let go and leave the known behind. I longed for it to distinctively mark a time in my life that felt like that moment when you walk up to the edge…

that brief moment when time slows to almost a stand still….

that moment right before you take a breath…

bend your legs, and jump off the ledge.

I never doubted that God could use the weekend to inspire me if He wanted to or to meet me however He desired; that is what I had been praying for in the weeks beforehand. I just did not expect Him to so powerfully fulfill the desires in my heart and then keep pouring out blessing till my heart was literally overflowing, incapable of holding it all.

He never ceases to surprise me….

and I definitely did not expect Him to choose a yellow sofa with rooster pillows tucked away in Muskegon as the memento for that weekend.

So what’s your yellow sofa lately?

And for real, you really need to go right now and check out my dear friend’s blog:

613beautyfromashes.wix.com/discoveringbliss

#writing #praise #transition #motivation