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All summer long, I've been church hopping and not seeing a lot of my childhood church chums. There are a lot of reasons for it- on top of the fact that I'd been going to the plant church for years now, I'm also looking for a more permanent grown-up church now as opposed to summer reunions with youth group buddies. There's also busyness, following my dad as he preaches at different churches, being away, hosting visitors, laziness, and other uninteresting excuses.

But tonight, I got to hang out with a few friends from church- two I have known since 4th grade, one since high school, and one who is mostly new. It was lovely, as most hang outs with friends are, but what stuck with me was when we were all sitting down to eat (at the mall food court, very classy), Eric turned to me and said, "My mom asked me to ask about how your grandmother is doing," and Jon followed with, "Yeah, my mom asked, too."

And I realized then what a blessing these childhood chums were. Sure we talked a lot about stupid stuff like all the places Ken's fingers have been. But they aren't just friends. We have roots together. We have families that know each other and moms that inquire. And it was such a relief, after days of telling and asking, to be asked how my grandmother was doing, and to know that people were praying.