A lot has happened since I last posted. I feel like my life is spinning and sprinting in circles all around me, and I am just standing still, speechless in the center of it all. I watch with wide eyes and knees nervously shaking together in anticipation as though the earthquake inside of me has finally spilled over into my outer world and I can no longer distinguish one from the other. I am silenced by its irony, chaos, speed, and sluggish-ness... its beautiful, disturbing, and most times frightening unpredictability.
There are so many stories I could tell about tornado damage and family meetings and future roommates and seniors graduating and a Nashville community that I have come to truly love. (It's almost been a year here, WOW.) The funny thing is, though, that pretty much everyone that reads this blog knows those stories, so don't worry, I will spare you... And I am learning that there are really just some emotions and life experiences you simply cannot put into words as hard as that is to admit. I would love to try and I often do. But what is so beautiful to me are those conversations where no words are necessary, and in some odd way, two spirits sing the same silent song. And you just know. No words necessary... I have had many experiences like that with sweet Nashville friends and even a friend in Serbia over skype today. God breathes through those silences. Just because we are silent does not mean He is. In fact, that's when we hear Him best. It is in the silence that we hear Him call our name.
Right now I am listening to a jam session I had back in Colorado with a dear friend, Rachel San Luis (shout out....)! What a fun memory... we set up our keyboards across from each other and just played music for the entire afternoon. I will always cherish that memory. I imagine heaven to be full of grand pianos on top of gigantic marshmallow clouds with choirs of angels singing all around us. And I will probably be a much better piano player in heaven... at least I hope so.
I recently read Heaven is for Real by Todd Burpo and I must confess, when my mom handed me that book with strong recommendation, I just could not take it seriously with the title and the nacho-cheese-yellow cover and the kid and the smile and... I stand corrected. I like to think the book is true. And I will continue to trust in that hope. But whether or not the little boy actually did go to heaven, I do believe in heaven and I KNOW that I can trust in that hope.
SO. Here's the deal. That book got me thinking about heaven with the creativity and imagination, yet matter-of-fact reality that it deserves. Why do we never think about heaven? We hear it more on the television than we do in our own hearts. As Americans, (and really, just human beings), we live in a culture that is so draining and short-sighted that it just sucks us right in effortlessly with its melodic and hypnotic techniques where all we think there is to this so-called life is a steady career, a new bike, and a husband... ok so it's different for everyone, I know.
But just for fun, let's dream for a minute...
Will we speak a new language? Will we wear wings? Will we shake hands with Adam and Eve and hear stories of baby Jesus's first steps from Mary? Will we know love so well we can taste it? Will we even remember what darkness felt like on our skin? Will we tell stories to the animals and even listen to a few from them? I bet they have lots to tell us... What will the lion and the horse's voice sound like? Will we meet unborn siblings and dance with Jesus at the Wedding Table? After all, we are His bride.