A mixed weekend

One of my birthday cards

Saturday:
Got up. Cried. Prayed. My best friend, Eszet, came to rescue me and we went back to hers to make yummy fish cakes and watch new dvds (how many of us remember Patricia Routledge in Keeping Up Appearances). Her very cute flatmate, D, joined us and we sat in the kitchen yakking away over an excellent bottle of Medoc. There were flighty comments and deep thoughts, witty repartee and sombre opinions. I felt a bit of my old self coming back. It was a good feeling. Slept over.

Sunday:
Got up. Cried. Prayed. My girlfriend, C, texted me, and I met her and her lovely American friends for church and a Turkish lunch. Had my nails done, then went back to church for the evening service. Part of me didn't want to meet The Boy, the other part of me was disappointed that I didn't. Poured my heart out in scribble in my new red suedette prayer journal all during the service. But as I gazed at the image of Christ staring down at me, it dawned on me that God had already answered all my heart's desires. He loved me at great cost too, greater, so that I could stand in His presence as I did then. It was a breakthrough. Eszet came to rescue me again (she's been wonderful) and we went to The Chinese Experience for dinner. It wasn't my first choice - too many memories - but the little Vietnamese place we were eyeing was closed. Came home. It started raining. Cried. Prayed. Slept.

I figure that the best way I can celebrate and honour The Boy's hopes and wishes for me (I admire his fortitude), as well as everyone who had been so kind to me (mum, dad, Eszet, C, and many many others), is to persevere. God, my thesis, my running, my family, my friends - life isn't just about one thing.