In twenty-one years of marriage, we've moved quite a few times, and every time, we hope and pray that God will continue to twine the paths of our friends repeatedly along our path. Sometimes, it takes sixteen years.
Last night, I was flopped on my bed scrolling through social media and wearing pajamas, getting ready to pull leftovers out of the fridge for supper and planning for an early bedtime. I commented on a former student's Instagram post because he was in Arkansas for a visit. Within seconds, I had a message from him saying he was stuck at the airport, and before I knew it, I was on the way to the airport to pick him up.
Henry played violin in the Pine Bluff Youth Orchestra, which I conducted when Sarah and Benjamin were babies. He was a spunky, smart, talented kid who has grown into a godly man leading worship at his church in North Carolina. I could get used to cooking breakfast every morning while hearing live praise music being played on my piano.
We only had a few hours together before I drove back to deposit Henry at the airport this morning, but what a sweet encouragement and an incredible surprise those few hours were! We're making plans to meet in the Solomon Islands next time, and we won't wait sixteen years before our paths cross again.
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