Yesterday, the munchkins and I went to church and halfway through the service, they tromped downstairs to children's church, along with the rest of the kids. After the service was over, I picked up all of our stuff to head downstairs and get them. As I was walking away from my seat, the woman behind me (who I've spoken to only a handful of times) tapped me on the arm. When I looked at her, I immediately knew what was coming - because I could see it all in her eyes. She didn't know exactly what to say, but she didn't have to. She smiled and told me she was so happy to have heard my big news. She paused, opened her mouth to say something, but didn't. Instead said something about what great news that was. What I saw in her eyes and on her face, was amazing. Just pure joy. For me.
I thanked her and kept walking to the stairs. On the stairs, I met another woman who beamed at me. This one, I know quite well. She told me that she'd heard some great news about me and was so happy. She had the same look. The very same one. When I saw tears in her eyes, I knew she was trying very hard to tell me something without actually saying it. And she did.
It's a strange thing - being loved and cared for by so many people. Some who hardly know me. It's amazing. And welcome. And I try really hard to pay that in return. And forward. The girls and I are so blessed to have so many people love us. And, yes, we can see it. We can see it in your eyes.
Later yesterday afternoon, I got a text from my deer hunter. A picture. Of him sitting out in the timber, in the freezing cold, all bundled up, with only his eyes uncovered. And I saw it there, too.
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