Sleepovers

I like to, but don't always, read every night. Some of the books I have near my bed right now are:

• Billy Collins: Sailing Alone Around The Room
• Donald Miller: Blue Like Jazz, Searching For God Knows What, To Own A Dragon
• T.S. Eliot: The Waste Land and Other Poems
• Rick McKinley: Jesus In The Margins, This Beautiful Mess

And I realized, as I was on my belly in a nest I made on the floor, at 1:00 AM, reading T.S. Eliot under one light in a dark room, that these authors are my friends. We have sleepovers. We stay up late talking and fall asleep in the wee hours of the night or early morning. They are my friends.

Everyone I actually know / that believe they know me / in truth only know what I show / in fact they are blind to the real me

I have many friends / more than I even remember / they may not still live or breathe / but they will be with me forever

Turns out T.S. Eliot knows bits about me really well. He paints portraits of ladies and love songs that sound familiar.

Rick is either going to rescue me from the margins of life or reveal Jesus to me in them.

Billy Collins makes me smile and gives me hope that someday I can write poetry that I don't hate when I am done.

And Donald Miller knows me best and helps me spend time with Jesus.

They are great friends, who are just a reach away. They are always there. Our thoughts snuggle up warmly almost every night, and I feel found. I almost never feel alone. And I love our sleepovers.

Now if only I would spend the night with friends like Paul, Moses, John, and Peter, in no particular order. If only all my time was spent searching for wisdom that has eternal value (St. Augustine). I know those sleepovers are long overdue.