Chandeliers hang from the sky in Belgravia.

As I look up from Google Maps on my phone, the surprising discovery from the street corner interrupts assessments. It turns out, glamorous lighting is the least surprising detail I notice once I reach my destination at a café in London.

“What do you want? They have great pastries here,” the young woman I’m meeting asks before I sit down.

“Black tea with soy milk,” I reply while unwrapping the scarf around my neck.

“And here, let me give this to you now and keep the change,” she insists while pushing pounds into my palm.

From the red bag hanging over my shoulder and resting on my hip, I pull out four copies of Rhythms of Rest and lay them on her side of the small table.

A few weeks earlier, MJ was in the audience when I spoke at her church. Shortly after, an email slipped into my inbox requesting more. More books. More speaking for an upcoming event. We’re meeting about the details.

She slips inside to order drinks and I nestle into the empty chair opposite and diagonal to a woman eating a bowl of yogurt; three Jack Russell pups leashed underneath her bench seat.

“They’re waiting for you to drop some crumbs,” I jest, leaning in and garnering eye contact.

She smiles and we engage in small talk. Five minutes later, MJ returns and we learn something shocking.

Today, I’m serving up the rest of the story at the Turquoise Table with Kristin Schell, a gracious host. I’m delighted to be part of her worldwide movement making hospitality more meaningful and less work, one neighborhood at a time. Join us here and then come back and learn why I painted my front door turquoise shortly after we moved to London here.