We all enter in awe, almost reverent, each of us moving into different sections of the store.
We browse the stacks slowly, moving between the rows from arts and parenting to culture and mysteries. Lingering on a title or flipping though the pages. I pause in novels and finger the spine of books I long to have time to read
. I think of the pins on Pinterest of dream homes with floor to ceiling shelves of bound beauty.
To me, bookstores always feel like coming home. True that most days I use my Kindle and order from Amazon but there’s something about leafing through the pages at a secondhand bookshop and wondering what treasure each worn spine contains in its marrow.
And she’s right about the hope contained in books and her resulting love for them. Because the same is true of our day. A day originally planned with the intention of driving to Portland to visit Exodus used books and purchase or peruse curriculum for this years school, but which evolved into a girls day. With our traveling plans falling through but our childcare still firmly in place, we spent the day chatting over coffee, visiting bookstores, thrift shops, bakeries, the farmer’s market, and indulging in sushi for lunch, Italian for dinner and wine just because.
A day of hope. Because we are of the same tribe.
Moms who spend countless hours of each day willfully choosing to do our best for our children. And even though we didn’t make it to Portland to buy home school books, we are always planning and focused on our call to disciple our children.
And it doesn’t look the same in everyone’s homes because mine surely doesn’t have the pristine cleanliness and order that would be apparent in Kim’s, who I have no problem envisioning vacuuming her already clean floor in pearls.
I don’t run the tight ship that Jen does, always thinking two steps ahead and being the one to track down when you’ve forgotten something essential, need a good laugh, or want a spreadsheet or flow chart typed up. Her servant heart knows no bounds.
But I bring something to the table as well.
Because these women are miraculous as mothers, and educators, and friends but we’re all vastly different. As different as each section of books. Each with its own purpose and story, each with its own place on the shelf.
We see within each of our children the hope that they hold. And we feel duty bound and blessed to press into those beautiful pages, so many yet to be written. And as moms, we know the pace of the turning pages and the cadence of prose as we read through them and into them.
We know when to push hard and expect more and when to ease up and pull close and when we forget and fail, as we all do, our tribe speaks words of empathy and encouragement and even the one with the perfect lipstick and hair that never seems a tad out-of-place nods her head, because she gets it.
And we’re all real here, in this place, on this day. Even though each real is different.
This is community. And today, when we gather to enjoy a day meant to be spent on getting resources for educating our children, I find instead, I received resources in educating me, in friendship and community and the blessings of good coffee, great conversation, and the nodding of heads. Yes gals, you get me. And in the end, we all walk away with hope…and a few great thrift store finds.