This song. This spontaneous worship........this is where I find myself today. God is so heavy, so present on this day I can feel Him in every hallway I walk down at school, the chapel service I sat in, the absolute appointed conversations that have already happened, the "coincidental" decision to go unlock the store that saved a little guys' dilemma of needing new school pants in the middle of the morning.....I am blown away by Him.
I am absolutely sure He wants us to cross every line to get to where He wants us. I can feel Him waiting to bless beyond measure. I just wanted to let you all know. He's here. He's HERE.
I sat in on my friends' art class yesterday and I could taste the energy in the room. They walked in trotting because you just canNOT get through life when you're that age by w a l k i n g. Because it was art, they came in all suited up for messy. And one little guy? Captured my attention, all oversized man's shirt with the sleeves flopping way past where his hands should be and that little guy just could not contain all that was in him. He's the kid who makes teaching a roomful more than a little distracting but by himself, he fascinated me. And he was by himself because he had to be separated in order for the class to pay better attention to the teacher and not so much to him. This is the one who can't sit still, who needs to talk and reacts in capital letters. He does what he "shouldn't" do? But there's a certain sense of mancubness to him that makes me think.....untamed, except by God? He's gonna be straight up awesome.
Next to mancub was a teeny little ladylike who needed me to know that yes, she in fact could write her name in cursive and proceeded to grasp her pencil in all manner of awkward to show me, lips pursed in concentration. The rough and tumble across from her laughed out loud at the discovery that he'd gotten sharpie marks on himself. When's the last time you laughed about that? Why isn't that funny anymore?
They burst with something they just have to tell me right that minute and "Oh! Oh! I know the answer to that! Like, can you imagine?? The teacher asked a question and I know the answer! What manner of wonder is that?? Isn't life grand?! " I wonder what it would be like if all the men in a conference room randomly pulled their t shirts over their heads when they were listening to the speaker. Or blew a bubble on purpose to cover your face when it pops....and you hope it pops.
I often feel like the odd crayon in the box amongst my fellow grown ups because....well, the wonder we've left behind just always feels so much more "right" and I just don't want to sit in my chair. Sometimes? Water fights and skateboards in the kitchen just seem way too fun to put a stop to.
Ramparts are defensive walls to fortify. I know this because I like words and I see one and, even when I know what it means, I look to find the next layer; to squeeze out of it all that I can to make the word picture in my mind come alive. I want to taste the word in my heart. I took my Bible out to the ballfield at school like always this morning and it held me captive, this idea of considering well. Considering something can be done well and when I do, it feeds me. I like the thought.
"Walk about Zion," Psalm 48 tells me...."go round about her." Zion is heaven, Zion is us. Zion is all things God. And He wants me to consider it. But this is why. "So that you may tell the next generation." I look again at my tamarisk tree inked on my wrist, the constant reminder of who He is and the very purpose I had for wanting it there. It reminds me to consider. If I think I don't have a reason for being? This is it. To remember and to tell those behind me. He's here. He's everywhere. He's constant. And He is so "even until death". I felt the presence of death this weekend; that it's real. It will happen. It does happen. And while we cry, we know He IS. Still.
But this. This is what really grabbed me. This line...."Consider well her ramparts....that you may tell the next generation....and cease recalling disappointments." There is the hard thing. The bittersweet thing. The best thing. The thing that sets us free to move forward and seize that He is.
I want to consider well. Because I want to be free to remember and to live in the land of the living today, waving the rampart flag.
Every few weeks, I crave solitude. The ritual of getting ready to go somewhere and then going somewhere starts to feel like a train I can't get off of. Even for good things. So. I take my ticket and exit the train for awhile. Last night I gathered all things honey and grain and yeast and turned on my music and made bread to bless with. The warm smell of wheatberries going through my grain mill brought back memories of six hungry faces waiting to eat the finished product on a summer afternoon after homeschooling was done for the day. This night, though, my girl came alongside of me and washed the dishes as I created dirty ones and asked me questions about what and how to as she watched over my shoulder. It felt good and right to have my hands in bread dough again. I kneaded and shaped and hummed happy. When the timer went off, the girl and I grabbed a loaf and cut it open right down the middle and I held a spoon up and watched the honey drizzle on top of a piece. "That'd make a pretty picture," she said, and we both sat quietly and "mmm'd" at each other as we ate.
This morning, my girl still sleeps and I let her. I grab my Bible and crawl into my big under -the -stairs closet and sit on blankets spread on the floor and leaned against the wall. "Shalom", I sang to Him and looked at my hearts' prayers taped up haphazardly and whispered them again. I cry, for no real reason; some happy, some longing, some feeling what others' feel.....and it makes me know I'm alive and in the fight.
When the girl wakes up, maybe we'll take a walk and finish off our loaf of bread set aside for us. And maybe this time we'll take a picture of the honey drizzling as the sun hits it from the window. Getting off the train days make you take notice of those things.
I go to lunch each day and sit with the kids because they make the light shine bright and I get to hear how much they like math and science (what?!) and that they are just really excited that their friend gets to spend the night tomorrow night and they have popcorn in their lunchbox and did I see their new shoes. I make them laugh by being sillier than they are and they are taken by surprise that I can be sillier than they are it just never gets old to me. Never.
Today I chose to sit with some fourth graders, only one of whom I'd gotten to know well. That one turned to the girl next to her. "She's one of my best friends," she said and pointed to me.
One of my friends works here too. Her first year teaching. I got a message from her today. It was a picture one of her students drew her. "You are the best art teacher ever!" She, like me, can't get over her good fortune at being here.
Then, I got to sit and listen to what sounded to me like voices of heaven practice Pinocchio today. And I just.....and I just.....and I just can't keep finding words big enough.
When you fall in love with kids? Your heart gets bigger. :)
Today was picture day at school and well......since I don't fancy myself picture worthy, it's just so much awkward posing. Head tilted just so, hands at sides. Surely we don't really have to go through with this? But, as I stepped up to the plate, the first of the day, the lovely young girl taking my picture smiled at me. "You look so excited!", she says. "Are you?" I giggled a "yes" but added, "I've no reason really. I'm just so happy to be here."
"What do you do here?", she asked. "Love kids. But I get paid to run the student spirit store." Hours later, after all the images had been captured in her camera, she came through the doors of the store and we spent some time getting to know one another and sharing our stories. She used to go to this school several years back, she told me, but not before some struggles led her there. She's better now, she tells me, but she's still carving out her path to figure out God. I realized how much my soul felt fed full by connections like this one.
She wanted a t shirt from the school for old times but didn't have enough money so I pitched in to finish off the amount needed. "Take it and remember our talk," I told her. "Come back and see me."
I locked the doors of the store and headed off to lunch and sat with a group of sparkly little girls and stifled a laugh at the boy who "accidentally" squirted mustard down his shirt.
