t, j

T, I wish you were my brother and, J, my sister. You make me laugh because you're so real, but you make me cry because you don't know Jesus like I know Jesus. I want to tell you all about him. I want to tell you of the joy that's available, accessible.
Slow, plodding days go by -- visits. We'll laugh harder, love more, worry. And it's closer though I can't see it. I see the weekends and the food and the conversation for what it is. But my Father had this all orchestrated already, far beyond cards and spaghetti. And He sees it for what it is. For what it really is.
I pray you'll take a little piece with you -- not of us, because we're pretty thin and shallow of ourselves. But take with you a portrait of the Vine -- we're an extension of the Vine -- and when you recognize the Vinedresser calling your name, you'll know Him for who He is. Who He really is.