An iPhone app guided me to my desired location. When I arrived, I parked the car in a place I’d never visited before.
I was, as usual, hoping for a good time.
I knew, as expected, the schedule well.
I arrived, as always, early.
Though the hotel assured me in advance that I could have a room early, their early wasn’t as early as my early. But I soon had a room.
Time to eat and rest and prepare for a time of thinking, planning, praying, and working.
Soon the meetings with my friends started. We looked at information. We offered opinions. We asked questions. We counted numbers. We listened to each other. We discussed schedules and goals. We reviewed accomplishments and hopes. We laughed with each other. We prayed for each other. We spoke truth to each other.
The number of homemade cookies in the middle of our table continued diminishing.
The dinner down the road supplied a delicious burger and grits for me, and whatever the others wanted for their meals.
A nice night of rest, a breakfast the next morning, and hours of seeking wisdom for our future. Each sentence stated had life. Every topic addressed seemed valuable.
But my favorite part of us five guys spending parts of two days together?
Our Friday night time of reflection and prayer for each other.
Their words reminded me why I do what I do. Their words challenged me to not only write about balance in my book Equilibrium: 31 Ways to Stay Balanced on Life’s Uneven Surfaces.
But to live it personally. Their words handed me assurance, confirmation, hopes, and peace.
I needed those two days.
I needed to be one of those five guys.
As I drove home Saturday afternoon I was thankful. I was also thinking. About other people. About how so many other people rarely gather together with other people. About how all of us need deep dialogue and healthy questions together, meals and prayers together, confessions and assurance together. About how glad I felt to have those friends. About how sad I felt for those who rarely experience these endeavors.
Instead of waiting for an event like that to happen, we should plan one. A time. A place. A few people. A few prayers. A few honest conversations. And a few cookies you can hardly stop eating.
Such an experience can guide us to our desired, and often unknown, spiritual location. When we arrive, we just might find ourselves parked in a place we’d never been before.