I came with a suitcase, a prayer, and some fear—
Moved in on a promise: God, You are near.
New city, new street, heart steady though thin,
trusting He’d meet me, just not sure where or when.
I had hoped for instant connection and ease,
Like divine Bluetooth—fast and a breeze,
But no, this was slower—this knowing and seen-ing,
More grit than glitter, more groaning than preening.
They called me "sister" when I walked through the door—
A word I had heard, but not like this before.
I'd learned it in part from birth and a sweet friend long known
Who showed me sisterhood's muscle and bone.
Not just talk, but a holding, a laughing, a fight.
For faith and each other, in darkness and light.
Still, I didn't expect it to look quite like this:
A blur of shared meals and never-ending lists.
Not a halo in sight, just a coffee-stained couch
And someone mid-weep or in a kid-level crouch,
Where toddlers and teens and grown-ups all pray
And unity grows in its own wonky way.
Being stretched by the Scripture in some ways we can't name,
Grown taller in faith, with lives never the same.
I've seen hearts healed slow and hope rise like bread,
While learning to follow where the Spirit has led.
They disagreed with me kindly (imagine) with care
And walked with my dog when I couldn't quite bear.
They came not with answers, but Bibles and tea
And cried in my living room, sometimes on me.
We talked about grief and theology's quirks
And how casseroles without cream of mushroom still work.
I borrowed some shorts, a shirt, and some grace
And somehow felt home in this mismatched place.
You taught me to praise when my heart felt like song
And when all of the high notes just came out wrong,
To cry, not just when life smacked me around,
But when sunsets and Scripture made joy so profound.
We fought for the knowing—slow, awkward, and true,
Like tilling a field, but God already knew,
Because while being known took some blood, sweat, and grace,
God was already working all over the place.
We cried and we laughed and we puzzled and prayed
And tried to make sense of the choices we weighed.
Do we go to the nations? Or wait? Or stay near?
We're seeking together, with reverent fear.
Whatever comes next, whatever we do,
We're bound by a love that will carry us through.
Now I walk the dog with an extra brother or two,
Who share their hot takes on Leviticus 2.
And I cook new foods, with no jello, no cream,
But with spices and laughter and flavors redeemed.
I've learned to look up when I want to look ‘round
To Scripture first, where the truest truths are found.
To trust a God who knits hearts and knits socks
And shows up in tears and a Tupperware box.
So call me your sister, and I'll call you “friend”
Through pot roast, crying, and joy without end.
