So. Twenty-seven years ago, you were born. And I've known you for almost 27 of them. Technically. If you count me being in my mom's womb, I've known you for all 27, but that's a bit hard to grasp. Hm. Well, never mind.
I don't really know where I'm going with this. I kind of had an idea earlier, but it slipped my mind between arriving home and turning on the computer and being distracted by Twitter.
We've done much together: firebrands, cell group, writing, acting and directing Star of Persia, worship teams, add maths tuition (HAH I RULE!), camps, random e-mails, strange twitter exchanges, birthday parties, FYU, supper, YOUR FIRST ACCIDENT WITH ME IN THE CAR (It was the first, right?). I'm sure there's much more I haven't mentioned...
You know, sometimes I listen to a bit of flak about your current um, overspiritual state, and how sometimes it's hard to talk with you without it turning into a well, sermon. But that's you. It's what you're excited about and it's exciting that God is doing so much with you. Or you are doing so much with God, whichever way you want to put it. It's beautiful to listen to your passion. I guess I love the way you make me want to do more, to press on more, to not be satisfied with where I am just by listening to your stories.
Maybe I'm getting old enough to wax nostalgic about the "good old days". But we should hang out. Soon. When I'm not so busy, and you're not so busy.
So here's to more of God in your future; that your wildest dreams will be fulfiled with more than you've ever hoped for, because when you glory in God, He glories in you.
Love and blessings,