In the last week or two, I feel like there's a rebirth going on inside of me. The winter was long and hard, and the long frozen bulbs of life and beauty are beginning to come to alive again. I don't even think there's been time for them to come out of the ground and show the changes happening below.
But I see that tiny spark of hope, of community, and I know that all it takes is one good breath to either blow it out, or to fan it to flame. I feel so protective of it, wanting to make sure it doesn't go out again.
I have been so lucky to have musician friends, and often their own songs have really identified a period of time in my life. Gabe's music, filled with wonder, was there as we began our journey together as husband and wife, and had adventures and the awe of God to carry us. Jess's music was there to comfort as I descended into the dark places of my life to begin to deal with the pool of pain that had been built inside me to protect everyone. But I can't really say that these last few years have had a song.
In so many ways, that was the problem. I left the places that gave my heart songs to sing, and went to the cold reaches of space. Eerily quiet and frozen, I sat, waiting to hear a melody I could pick up. Things that SHOULD have had songs in my life were crushed by grief and depression.
Finally, a lifeline was thrown out, and I grabbed for it. Eucharisto. The practice of communion with God through thanksgiving. I remember this in bits and pieces, but that was before the pool of pain and the vault of memories opened to reveal a life that I had not realized was my own. The recollection of the past allowed me to really begin to see things as they were, not as i wished them to be. But it hurt more than I thought I could bear.
And the thanksgiving stopped. I was angry, hurt, and a million other emotions at everything from that past life, especially God. Until the last week, I hadn't even begun to swim the depths of what that meant.
Now, as I put toes into the water I wonder if I am brave enough to go all the way in. To REALLY practice thankfulness for the little things so that I will learn to give thanks even in the hard things. But even the toes in the water have begun to thaw my heart, and I hear music again. Right now, It's Jer's music, open and honest, but with incredible gratitude toward the Father who Overwhelms us, who Washes over us and holds us in our dark places.
My tears fall, but they aren't angry or full of sorrow anymore. They are tears of Eucharisto, thankful tears to the Father who loves me and IS Good, not matter how I feel.