It was great to spend some time last week with Tim the Welsh (better known to many as the husband of Greta), a father of three girls, who unconsciously fed, entertained, cleaned, and otherwise engaged with The Girlie. Between hanging out and meals and naptime (for Ella, not for us), we spent about 10 hours in conversational catch-up, and it was glorious.
What does a Brit miss most? BBQ! And Dr. Pepper, though I think they have that over there. We also played billiards (“spots and stripes”) during the nap: he unmercifully trounced me in at least 20 straight games, before I finally won one. I’m still suspicious that he found a way to lose on purpose, just so I wouldn’t feel like a pile of pants.
Between that day and our wonderful church retreat this past weekend, I’m feeling a bit spent, relationally speaking. Yet with a stronger conviction than ever that relationships and understanding and encouragement and love are best built through hanging out, karaoke, shared meals, unstructured conversation, and wasting time together. It is fattening, exhausting work (at least for an avowed introvert like me), but it is essential, and transcendent.