when i was a kid, i often loathed calling grand central station home. at our house the phone rang constantly, family and friends came and went constantly and nine months out of the year the front door was wide open, inviting people to look, lean and live into our lives. although generally hospitable to our guests and usually courteous on the phone, i was often sequestered in my room where i sought silence and snapped at interruptions.
fueled by adolescent angst i often hated the non-stop energy of that place and swore i would live differently. i swore i would live differently.
but here i sit, in my own house, following old patterns by (presumably) seeking silence in my room. the phone has yet to ring, but no less than five people have been in and out of the house in the last hour, one friend is in the process of moving out of our front room so that another can move in, kellie and becky are clanging around in the kitchen, cade and alex are talking over the french open in the living room and the front door is open. the front door is open.
feel free to look, lean and live into our life. i’ve freely set aside my angst and have accepted my role as a supervisor of grand central station east. make no mistake, i still want my silence, but i hope this is a place where strangers are welcome, friends become family and faith finds feet.
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