A beautiful summer afternoon.
I’m watering the flowers by the lamp-post and I realize that the little red flag on my mailbox is down. The postman has already stopped for the day, exchanging my letters for magazines and mailings.
Hidden among the parcels and newspaper I notice a crisp, white envelope.
A pretty stamp.
My heart rises as I gently tear back the seal.
An invitation!
This is summertime.
The season for celebrations.
Weddings.
Graduations.
Birthdays.
Reunions.
Gatherings of friends and families. Marking milestones and counting blessings.
I’m sure you’ve seen one of those little hand-painted signs by the roadside on a warm, dusty weekend in June.
The breeze blowing crepe paper taped to the cardboard. Balloons twisting on ribbons. Arrows pointing the way to the festivities.
Big white tents filled with smiles and party-goers. Tall glasses of cold lemonade.
We all know what it feels like to open an invitation.
An extension of tangible happiness tucked between two-halves of a folded card. Embellished with scripted writing. Sometimes a ribbon.
Words of welcome.
Plans to partake in merriment and memories.
Who can turn that down?
…
I’ve always been a planner.
And I love throwing a party. Making lists and lingering in the vision of it all. Not-to-mention, it’s a great creative outlet for artistic expression.
Organizing and orchestrating.
These are things I was born to do.
And my Sweet Louise ~ well, she’s an expert baker. She can find cause to whip up a delectable little something for any affair.
Invitations conjure up thoughts of delight.
Not only do we anticipate the pleasure of time spent with others, but there’s something special about being the recipient of that written request.
Someone cares about you.
Thought about you.
Wanted you to be with them on a special occasion. They took the time to address the correspondence with your name.
There’s a message of acceptance in an invitation.
An appreciation for who we are. A knowing that the person on the other end wants to be with us. They value our presence.
Maybe it’s a simple text to ask a friend to meet with us for coffee. Or it could be a quick note by post to say “I miss you”. Let’s go out to lunch.
An invitation is a reaching out to another soul.
A widening of a social circle.
And whether you are the giver or the receiver, invitations just feel nice.
Should you have attended one of my parties years ago, you would have seen that there was great attention given to detail.
Invitations were often done in calligraphy.
And at the actual event there would have been individual labels for each of the hors d’oeuvres on the table.
An arrangement of flowers in every room. Music to fit the mood. Lighting was done with flair. And a hand-made favor went home with each of the guests.
Not to mention floors would have been mopped before everyone arrived and closets cleaned just in case the inside of that storage space might be seen.
I spent so much time worrying about getting it right that I missed out on the pleasure of being present.
The present of being together.
Looking back I can now see that so many opportunities for connection were diminished by my need to control.
You see, if I could wow everyone with the decorations and meal preparation I figured they would be too busy to see how miserable I truly was.
If I spent my time making sure everyone was taken care of I didn’t have to take care of the feelings that were welling up in me.
Certain to focus on all of the little things ~ I hoped to make a big impression.
Because inside I felt so small.
…
We think of invitations as the very beginnings of those joyous celebrations.
With them come picnic tables and parks.
Bare feet and bubbles.
One of my favorite memories is of candles and cake.
It was my Sweet Louise’s fifth birthday.
She has the luxury of having been born at the end of May. A perfect time for gathering flowers and sunshine for her parties.
This particular year was extra special.
We had arranged her celebration with relatives in a beautiful outdoor setting.
A good fit for my nature-loving girl.
It was a peaceful wooded environment with a small river running adjacent to the pavilion. Shallow enough to wade across, the cool rushing water was refreshing to happy but tired little feet.
I had baked Emma’s favorite cake.
When it came time, one of her cousins took the cake up the river a little ways. After lighting the candles it was placed on a small float then carefully released onto the gentle ripples of the water.
As Emma’s cake drifted downstream toward where she stood on shore, she was surrounded by family and friends.
Those who loved her most.
In unison we all sang Happy Birthday.
What a thrill for her to watch as her cake came near!
One of her uncles retrieved it. She blew out the candles. A round of clapping and it was time to pass around the plates and napkins.
All the wonderful things of celebration surrounded her.
An invitation to laughter.
To love.
And to the beauty of belonging.
Commonly, invitations are a means by which we call on others to help commemorate a notable day in the history of someone’s journey.
A feat attained.
An accomplishment achieved.
…
But what about the times in our lives between the celebrations?
The days when we don’t know where to turn with our anxieties and fears. Or the days that burden us with overwhelm.
More of our days are spent in these place cards of time.
In the unknown.
In the space that doesn’t call for the presence of others.
Where tears are on the ‘to-do’ list and healing is high on the agenda.
Sometimes we find ourselves smothered by grief and loss. Maybe looking in the mirror at the reflection of pain and regret.
Or sitting alone with the encumbrance of despair.
These are the more common existences that we know on the days between.
Days spent far from the parties.
Lacking lustre.
Apathy can begin to fill our hearts.
Where is the invitation when we need it most?
We can find ourselves trying to run from the hurt we feel inside. ‘Crashing the parties of others’ by immersing ourselves in their lives.
Trying solve their problems for them.
Our hours can be wrapped in blame and projection, denying our part in the status of our own sorrowful situation.
We tend to ignore our pain. And in the process we stifle our growth.
That’s when we invite Jesus in.
Psalm 91: 14-15
“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
He will call on me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
We invite Him into the dark and secret places.
We invite Him into the pain.
Into the brokenness.
Rather that sitting alone with fear, our Savior promises to be there with us. We need only recognize His presence by meeting Him there.
Whispering His name.
He knows all of our hurt. All of our angst ~ even before we speak it.
The One who created us knows us far better than we know ourselves. It is in this place of complete awareness that our authenticity rises to the surface.
God sees us and calls us out. Inviting us to see ourselves through eyes of grace.
He speaks the truth of who we are in Him.
He breathes life into our shattered stories.
In this holy space of communion, we are reminded His faithfulness.
This Wonderful Counselor.
Our Comforter.
The Prince of Peace.
When we invite Him into our pain we allow Him to bring light to our darkness.
To warm us.
To illuminate the spaces that we have cowered in.
Bound up by our fear and shame. Our struggle might be triggered by a traumatic wound from our past. Some of us repeatedly submit to the bondage of the lies told by the enemy. Words of deceit that keep us feeling balled-up, worthless and small.
These things that keep us hiding.
Holding our hope captive.
But when we invite Jesus into these spaces we invite possibility.
We invite redemption.
And His healing heart sweeps in.
Invitations to worldly celebrations are grand, but in the grand scheme of things they are fleeting.
They provide only a momentary distraction from the realities of this life. Subtle opportunities to conceal our pain from the view of others.
But the invitation to Christ guarantees freedom.
When we invite Christ to meet us in the frightened and troubled places of our life, we can experience release.
A chance to breathe.
We come to discover the solace in surrender.
These little invitations are the daily opportunities to build our relationship with Christ.
And He invites us back for more of Him each and every day.
In these intimate exchanges we can come to know the feeling of His love reaching out to us. And with time, we find that we’re reaching for Him more and more.
Rather than seeing only this world, we begin to understand His spiritual reality. That He wants nothing more than to share this journey with us.
In Him we are seen.
We are loved.
We are cherished.
And our invitation from Christ is an invitation to eternity.
An eternity of celebration with Him.
My Sweet Louise 
Please share your thoughts.