to receive is a gift.

My eyes hurt from crying last night during the last session of our book club.

The book, "Soul Revolution," was tremendous in it's own right. We journeyed through the 60/60 experiment together for 8 weeks, setting our cellphones to ring every 60 minutes to think about God's presence and work in our daily lives.

It meant different things to the 12 members of the group. To me, it was life-altering.

But nothing quite prepared me for the exercise at the last meeting.

We sat in Jim's dining room, chairs in a circle, with one in the center. Each person took a turn sitting in the center. At that time, each person around the circle told the person in the center what they appreciated about their relationship with them, what gifts they have that are shared with others, and what qualities they have that they admire.

It was truly a beautiful way to cap off the 60/60. But for me, it was one of the hardest things I have ever done.

Mostly, I have little problem telling the people I love how I feel about them. I have actually gotten better about that in the last couple years, thanks to my kids, and definitely after life revealed it's obvious uncertainties to me in no uncertain terms.

But to return direct eye contact (which was requested) and be told by people you care about that you have value, meaning and a positive impact in their lives, is amazing.

I never experienced anything like it. I have known these particular friends for over a year now. We bonded during Divorce Care at Parkview, and remain close to this day. I love these men and women.

So, it was much easier for me to express to them how much they meant to me, than it was for me to receive their profoundly kind words.

I sat, with uncontrollable tears rolling down my cheeks, almost unable to look at them and accept what they offered me.

Part of the scared, unsure little girl in me was comforted in those six minutes.
Part of the adult in me, who has not always done the right thing with her life, felt redeemed.

And perhaps most importantly, the voice that is sometimes too loud, too critical and way too unkind inside my head, was quieted.

I hope forever.

Thank you, friends.
Your gifts are immeasurable.