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?
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