Rooted Hearts

  If you are lucky enough to have friends that have spanned nearly a lifetime, then you know exactly how I feel. Every year, I load up my car and travel north to Wisconsin where four of us from high school gather at Melinda's lake house. I have food, way too many clothes, and a heart so filled with excitement it nearly bursts. We come from all over. Suzy lives in Georgia, Jenny lives in Peru Illinois, Melinda has her main residence in Oswego Illinois, and I am in North Aurora Illinois. For 3-4 days we meander through trails, spend hours on their boat on the lake, and stay up late talking about our deepest thoughts and memories. And, if we are lucky, we have Brandy Alexanders! Because our birthdays are all within weeks of each other we celebrate them all while we are there.  When the last bed is stripped, and parcel of food put away, with the sun gazing over the lake, its time to say goodbye. Not just goodbye to treasured friends, but goodbye to the lake who hosted us...

  I was settled in driving the back roads to Sycamore this morning. My Apple playlist shuffling from one song to the next when all at once I heard Josh Groban. His voice is made from that of the angels. I began thinking back to the first time I heard him. I was awe struck. He was all of 17 years old, singing for the lighting of the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center. He was wearing a turtleneck and a double-breasted pea coat. His curls flirting with wind as it's cool echo swam around him. The first note beamed through the night, and I had tears in my eyes. He went on to sing Oh Holy Night in perfect pitch, I was instantly a fan. Today, nearly 20 years later, I couldn't help but think about all the gifts each of us has been given. And just like Josh, it is imperative we share them. In contrast to the number of people in the world, a relatively small amount has been given such an incredible voice, but we all have so much to offer each other. God designed us to s...