If you were here with me, I'd invite you to stay for a cup of tea. I'd fill the kettle with fresh, cold water, I'd bring out my favorite tea pot.
We'd have scones and cheese and jam. I'd put freshly baked cookies on a plate, and canned peaches into a bowl. We'd get out the cream and the honey, because that is the best way to have a cup of tea.
Finally, we'd sit down together, just you and me. And we'd talk. About what? About everything. You'd tell me your news, I'd tell you mine. We'd laugh over things that no one else would get. We'd share some of our struggles and our victories, we'd encourage each other in our walk with God.
We'd talk about our hopes and dreams, even the crazy, unrealistic ones. I'd make a fresh pot of tea, and we'd talk some more. I'd tell you about the books I'm reading, about how I love reading books about decorating. I'd even confess to you that half the fun in reading them is not reading them at all, but simply in looking at the pictures and finding inspiration within their pages.
I'd tell you about the other books I'm reading, and then I'd listen as you talked about the books you were reading, and the ones you wanted to read.
We'd talk about new authors we've discovered, new things we like, things we're learning.
We'd talk about being a mom, what it means, the responsibilities, the joys, the laughter, the tears, the fears, and the hopes.
(This post is dedicated to my sister Breanne, whom I have not had tea with for a very long time, but whom I will see in just a few weeks!)