Last week I spent a few days in a little Podunk town in Arkansas with my editor, Lissa, and her husband, Rich.
The weather turned bitter cold, snowing most of the time I was there, but I’ve never been any place warmer.
Lissa and I first met through emails after she was hired to edit the book I was writing. (I’m not sure she’d seen the first manuscript when she signed on for the job. It was a menagerie of stories that even I didn’t know how to put together in any semblance of order!)
When we first started this project, I didn’t know how this ‘working with an editor thing’ was going to fly with me.
Remember I’m an only child who never liked doing group projects at school.
But from the first email I knew it was going to be okay.
She was willing to share herself. And she was truly interested in learning who I was.
So much so that she came for a visit back in December.
In the two and a half hours it took us to drive from the DFW airport to meet my parents for lunch, we were friends.
The more she listened, and the more she opened up about her own life, the more I trusted her.
And the more I trusted her, the more I was willing to go to the deepest places of my heart for this book.
I didn’t want to at times. It was scary. Painful.
But it made the book better. Authentic. Real.
I couldn’t be more grateful for her help.
It’s amazing to me how God weaves our lives together with people in just the right time, in just the right way, to provide exactly what we need.
So around another dinner table
watching birds at the feeder
through the kitchen window
in front of roaring fires
laughing at YouTube videos
trying again to find some redeeming quality in When Harry Met Sally
– I found more friends in Arkansas.