Something must be written.
“Why?” some part of me asks, “You have a school assignment to finish.”
“Why must it be written? When words capture so little of the depth, so few of the emotions? Why must it? Who will care?”The answer comes. It´s one I´ve heard before. The simple answer is that I use words to hold on, to hold on to pieces of my life. It´s impossible to hold on to everything, but I capture snatches, remnants of what my heart has felt, what I have seen, understood, touched, and tasted. I want to remember in five years, or thirty years. I want to re-glimpse a moment through my 25-year-old eyes. Through these honest words I want to hold on to a few things that possibly won´t survive in my memory otherwise.
For this reason something must be written…about this exhilaration, this gratitude.
I saw their faces come through the rear doors of the church. As I began playing the piano, I sensed them, more than saw them, filling the front two pews. The room held a rare energy. I felt a heart-deep smile spread across my face, my soul relaxed. Things would be fine. My friends were here.
Minutes later, I glanced around at the five young people who were on the panel discussion with me. Sincere eyes, sincere voices responding. Hints of nervousness pushed aside by the familiarity of sitting next to friends and being ourselves. At that moment, I knew I was blessed. Blessed to be one of “them,” one of the group.
Attentive expressions in the audience. A friend and sister audibly supporting via video clip. The ready presence of a friend standing next to me. Complete confidence that we would both say the right thing. My own voice reading the affirming words of the Most High God. The knowledge that our best had been done. Young voices singing an old hymn of renewed devotion.
The experience is still sinking in. The unity felt on that platform drifted into a hike, a spontaneous invitation in the church parking lot, earnest evening sharing, and a unique fullness of joy. What else must God have in store for us?