He met me there.

I stressed and struggled to get the kids and the house ready for our departure. I created lists and calendars. I wrote emails and text messages. I’m sure I raised my voice a time or two, and I lost a bit of sleep. He met me there.

I flew and landed and squealed and hugged. I sat and listened during our core team time. I dreamed big and affirmed. I delegated and prayed and grew more excited by the hour. He met me there.

I welcomed and squealed and hugged. I cast vision and declared big things for the weekend. I cut shoes for kids and agreed to raise money for a nurse. I talked late into the night. He met me there.

I spent the night in the shower and the next day in bed, wrecked by a stomach virus. I missed sessions and meetings and responsibilities and fun. I cried and complained and questioned. He met me there.

I recovered and rejoined. I sat and listened, nodded and amen-ed. There were tears and tweets. I began to hope and dream for new things. I worshiped. I left feeling inspired, but also a bit overwhelmed and anxious about my responsibilities back home. He met me there.

He’s doing a good work in me, right where I am.