I want to write. Really, I do. But it’s hard when none of the things I’ve been thinking fit well together into a cohesive post, and I have no time anyways. There are a hundred other responsibilities… But I need to write, really I do, I tell myself. I need to write for the same reasons I always have: To remember, or at least slow the forgetting; to decipher, work out, and understand life. I want to write, and I need to write. Thus this post. I don’t expect it to flow well, but if you’re brave enough to wade through my mess read on.
I am surrounded by crazy, lovable, needy fifth and sixth graders. Smiles, mischief, potential, naivety, energy.We talk about deep questions like “What if God doesn’t protect you in the way you think he should?” and “How were people before Jesus died saved?” We sing fast paced songs: “I can count on God for what I need.” We memorize. Yes, we memorize a lot, and I wonder how much of it sticks to impact their hearts. They work hard at it, lining up and reciting rapid fire at me. The great commission, fruit of the spirit, twelve disciples, Lord’s prayer, the twenty-third Psalm… I said to one girl today “If this was a Tim McGraw song you would have had it down in two seconds flat.”
I can’t capture their faces, or their aurora here. Suffice it to say that it is beautiful and amazing and scary in the fullest meaning of all of those words to be with them. Beautiful because they are on the brink. They could go anywhere from here. Amazing because most love with their whole hearts because they’ve not been hurt deeply yet. Amazing because they are the epitome of childlikeness, yet they are trying so hard to be grown up. And scary. Scary because I see their bright innocent eyes looking to me more often than not. They watch me, and I don’t have all the answers; I don’t do everything right. I remember when I was the one looking up. I remember how cool the teenagers were then…
I love how the people have been coming to my house lately. Almost every day, old friends and new friends filter through. This is how I want my house to be someday. I love being the safe, fun, deep, crazy place for the people. I love making decisions impulsively. A twenty mile bike ride? Why not. Movie tonight? Sure. It’s like Audio Adrenaline’s Big House, only the planet earth version. At least, I like to think that our house is an echo of Heaven on earth. The safe, true place. A shelter from the storm, but not one where we pretend the problem of the storm doesn’t exist. I want my house to be the Mira of the community “…if you come broken they’ll see that you mend.” Only I can’t mend anyone, so I leave that up to Jesus. Nothing is allowed to get in the way of this dream. This is my ministry and my passion. If you can’t share that, I won’t hate you, but you can’t get too close. There is enough of me to spread around to all the people even if I love too deeply with my selfish heart.
I watched the wind bow the trees yesterday, whipping the leaves into submission, spinning their undersides to face the sky. I thought, in a rather cliche manner, that God is like the wind. You can’t see Him, but you can see his effects everywhere if you open your eyes. Later, I listened to the storm in awe, and wondered how something so fiercely beautiful could come from chance. Doesn’t it make more sense that it is the artwork of One who is fiercely beautiful Himself? The intricacies of the flowers, the fury of the sea, the steadiness of a mountain, the majesty of the stars…these all reflect His personality. It’s so hard for me to fathom how someone could say that there’s more proof against Him than for. I feel close-minded when I say that, but it’s true. I just can’t wrap my mind around how someone could believe that after having stepped outside in nature and seen the carefully balanced, perfectly designed system. Things like that don’t just happen.
I can’t even say that those are my top three thoughts, but at least they are three. They are three that have been spinning in my mind lately, and it did feel good to wrap words around them…”Fate sealed, I guess this is how I feel.” , as Ariel sings. Or, if you prefer the classics, take Ernest Hemingway: “If he wrote it, he could get rid of it. He had gotten rid of many things by writing them.” Now I have written these, gotten rid of them, and sealed my fate.
This is something I’ve been needing to do, and now it’s done. Now it’s time to move on, find new thoughts, live life, face the music. Life never lets me sit still for long. But now I will remember. I can come back. I can re-read, re-process. I can re-visit this signpost that I’ve progressed from. I wanted to write; I needed to write, and now I have.