My cousin Jen just "happened" to be on my flight the other day. There are approximately 22,000 flight attendants, so the chance of this happening (especially flying into Minneapolis rather than Detroit) is slim to none.

That time with her was definitely a gift from God. One of my New Year's resolutions is to spend more time with those I love. Jen is on that list, so I was especially thankful that God brought her to me.

Since I've always been painfully shy, God has had to bring all my friends to me.  He has used a number of ways to accomplish this. Like having last names beginning with the same letter, so seating charts put us together. Like a new girl coming on our church retreat and sharing a bunk with me. My brother marrying one, me giving birth to one, me being born to one, my mom having a surprise pregnancy with one. Rooming in college with a few, rooming in flight attendant training with a few. Growing up in the same church with some. Aunts and Uncles and cousins giving birth to several. In many, many instances it took glomming onto my other friends' friends.

All these ways and more, God has brought precious friends into my life and I don't spend near enough time with any of them. I'm determined this year will be different. As my daughter would say, I'm going to be more "intentional" about finding the time. I think I'm off to a pretty good start. I'm often marooned at home with Brett, so the first thing I needed to do was quit thinking my house had to be clean or food needed to be prepared in order to have company. How freeing is that? I invited a friend over the other day and didn't even feel compelled to change out of my pajamas.

I've always liked the analogy of our life as a tapestry with God doing the weaving. Often all we can see is the messy underside that looks like nothing more than a bunch of tangled threads, the furthest thing from order and beauty. I like to think of those threads as friends.

Some are tightly interwoven from the very beginning and stay that way to the end. Like family members and those who have shared most of our pain, sorrow and joy.

Sometimes a bright thread is woven in unexpectedly, adding a lightness and strength you weren't even aware was missing (my friend Stacey comes to mind).

Sometimes the threads separate, busily being woven into their own uniquely beautiful design on another part of the tapestry, and sometimes those threads become re-woven with yours, perhaps just when you're feeling particularly thread-bare and fragile (like my friends Kelly and Ellie).

Regardless of where we are in the weaving process, God uses each thread to add strength, beauty and variety to the fabric of our lives. But we have to allow ourselves to be interwoven. Sometimes I am tempted to isolate myself, using all my free time on my own selfish interests.

But God didn't intend us to live in isolation. He created us to enjoy the comfort, strength and beauty of high thread counts. As long as God is doing the weaving, we can be assured that regardless of the messy looking underside, He is creating "something beautiful, something good."

The only thing I like about seeing another year slip by is the idea of a fresh start and new beginnings.  This year I decided I'd try blogging about some of the changes I'd like to make, both big and small. Maybe by articulating them, I'll be more inclined to act on them.

As kids, my brothers and I usually came home from school and played outside until dinner.

Exceptions were made when there was something special on The Four O'Clock Movie, like Godzilla week. I hated Godzilla. My brothers' insistence on watching that ridiculous creature aggravated me to no end. My mom knew that, so she turned it into a special time just for us. She'd pop up a big of bowl of popcorn, with lots of salt and butter. We'd sit on opposite sides of the living room couch, our feet together, the bowl of popcorn between us and we'd read and eat to our heart's content.

I was probably into Laura Ingalls Wilder at the time, completely engrossed in "Little House in the Big Woods". I loved Ma and Pa and remember wishing that I lived back in that time. Before Godzilla. Before The Three Stooges.

I love that memory. I love that my mom was willing to put everything aside to enjoy the simple pleasure of spending companionable time with her little girl. My mom has always been good at living in the moment, seizing the pleasures of the present rather than dwelling on past mistakes or worrying about the future. I'm resolving to be more like her...to be fully present, to embrace the moment and be more grateful for what is and less guilty about what isn't or wasn't.