Come on in. The door is open. Sometimes when you step into my home you will be greeted with freshly washed floors, a sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies mixed in with the lingering smell of tangerines and lemon.
Honestly though, most times before you can get up the stairs you will have to step over a mountain of shoes, jackets, and backpacks. I’ll give you a cup of coffee or tea and a place to sit on my old couch.
Most likely before you sit though, you’ll have to brush the crumbs off the cushions, left by one of my kids, and push aside whatever folded laundry was waiting to be put away. Because there is always laundry to be put away and there are always crumbs to find.
This couch wasn’t made old by time, but by use. You aren’t the first friend to sit there; all snuggled in with a blanket. And you won’t be the last. Because my door is open, it’s open to you and anyone who needs a soft place to rest.
My house isn’t always the cleanest or put together. Actually as you are sitting there, I’m hoping you don’t notice the dust accumulating on the shelf, or those pesky cobwebs in the corner. Rather, I’m hoping you feel like you belong here, that you are welcome. That this is your home away from home.
This old couch has seen and heard a lot over the past few years. It’s been witness to tears, struggle and pain. It’s seen friends mourning with each other and comforting each other in turn.
It’s heard whispers of dreams and prayers lifted up. It’s been privy to fears spoken out loud and disappointments shared.
It’s been a place of rest for tired children, cuddled with tired Mamas.
Its heard genuine laughter. The kind where you almost pee your pants and your stomach hurts.
This couch knows friendship.
This couch won’t last forever. Eventually it’ll need to be replaced with a newer version. One without stains and tears.
But you my friend will never be replaced. That door will never be closed, you will always have a seat that is yours.