This morning, I have been walking in that certain heaviness that comes with inspiration and revelation (a good heaviness, I might add). So many thoughts have come as heavy, overwhelming ideas that seem to change everything for me.
For instance, I was reminded of the ocean. How I love to sit on the beach (Ft. Walton Beach, Florida, to be exact) and feel the sugar-white sand beneath me and watch and listen to the rhythm of the waves crashing and rushing up the shore. I love the rhythm. And today I was struck with the idea that perhaps what I have always felt drawn to in the ocean's rhythm is the same thing I am drawn to in writing and fiction and art and humanity. I'm drawn to the magnitude and complexity of life on earth and its rhythm. Pain, desolation, confusion, darkness. Waiting, searching, seeking. Then grace, light, understanding, clarity, joy, inspiration and blessing. Dryness, emptiness, space, pausing, time. Then the rush, the crash, the music, the revelation, the water and fulfillment. Seasons, cycles, change, growth... but always a rhythm, always a plan and a pattern and a Someone orchestrating comfort and grace and fulfillment in our lives.
So much has happened in the last week during this bizarre and beautiful time of healing. I've been finding new depth in my love for children- not a vague idea of my future children, but the children of friends and family, and even handsome little strangers who smile at me from across a room at random, for no reason at all except that we happened to meet eyes and felt like smiling.
I was enveloped and welcomed back into my church family (as I haven't been there in so many weeks) with the scents of coffee and bulletins and books and newborns and that evasive, mysterious something that seems to come with the general congregation of Oklahoma City hipsters. And it was so good to sing to God, and to sing over one another and with one another and to one another. This concept of worship is so new to me, for I've always thought worship was ONLY between me and God. But now it is so much more when I am with the church family. It is encouraging and being encouraged to sing to God, to sing about Him, to deepen our fulfillment in our love for Him and acceptance of His grace. It's complex, for we are all coming to God from different places, different moods and weaknesses and perspectives. Some are in mourning, others are struggling with addictions and recurrent sins in our lives, and still others are experiencing a new joy and seasons of blessing. Some of us are singing louder, lifting up our hands higher. Others are listening more, and being encouraged by those who worshiping with so little restraint and so much freedom. We are lifting up and being lifted. And we are all apart of the chorus, the complex movement of a people toward their Creator.
Today I'm reminded to sing my part, to gradually lift up the song as my own heart is being lifted by others, and my eyes are being redirected to God's goodness.