Tonight was too fantastic for words, and yet too glorious not to lend it a few.
The kind of night the (more socially acceptable) store, where you'll secure gardiniera mix and a baguette for dipping in morning coffee like the French people in the movie, closed at 8 and it's much past 9 so you head to Wal Mart. And there's that one greeter, that really genuinely gracious wise man whose smile has said and always will say "Do you know how much God loves you! (Beam)" And for once you have a chance to let him know how welcomed his smile makes you feel, and he shares about how special, how special, how special it was to hear that, because (tears) he'd been praying about it that morning especially, that God would show His light and love through him. And the special moment He's thankful to you for sharing what you shared, and You're thankful to God for sharing what you shared through you -- and you remember just what blessing feels like.
And you're driving home and twist-pop the glass jar metal lid to enjoy with the glove-compartment-spare-plastic-fork your long-sought-after gardiniera, to notice after a few bites the prevalence of jalapeno peppers -- and how you forgot about the 'hot' one, and therefore, about selecting it over regular, but how you had inadvertently gotten it anyway (score!) so you enjoy it all the more, mostly cauliflower, maybe the only way you really appreciate cauliflower. And you remember the sourdough baguette and tear off an end, this time mindful of the other French movie (what is it with...) where the country preacher eats nothing but bread soaked in wine, and so subconsciously somewhere vinegar is good as wine, and as significant, you remember -- soaking bread in vinegar - like the sponge offered to Jesus on the cross (what was the aim of that again? anaesthetic?) So anyway, you dip it in, take a spongy bite and immediately downplay the sourness, though it's really so, so acidic. And you downplay, play tough, deny the punch in your mind even though your mouth's still writhing, and you continue to downplay, priding yourself on your tolerance and pleasure in the acidity, until that slight, humbling Spirit's voice admonishes you to "call it as it is." To experience things as they really are. Vinegar wasn't ever meant to be sweet. Vinegar is vinegar - it's cutting, sharp. And there's worth enough in its own true properties than to cover them over with some other more likable trait, that really [is]n't at all. So you think to yourself, "why do I feel the need to be seen as tough and acid-tolerant," and your realize tough fronts are to cover weakness, and how weak you [are]! God, I don't need to be strong on my own when I have You! What a relief.
And the radio continues in classical public radio mode, something about (Wagner?) and the wedding Sonata he wrote for a man to play for his woman come wedding-aisle-descent time. And this wedding took place in Brussels, where it was so dark inside, he had to play virtually the whole Sonata by memory. And you think of how much practice went into this, to play it perfectly for his bride! To have practiced enough to memorize each bit, the whole! And what of those prayers for Belgium the past few days, to flood the heavy darkness with His light in every respect. Connections? He's Belgium's groom, He's dedicated to her, and there's hope.. there's hope!! The wedding has only begun, no? He's soon to show her the fullness of His love, and how hopeful and beautiful it is!
And you're wild inside at the memory of all this and the thought of taking the time to write it all out, but what better occupation than to acknowledge the blessing you've been shown, particularly since you've prayed about this very thing; that God would make Himself and His love known to you, and that you would stay true to his nuances through music, finding meaning in it all not by effort but rather by default, and you took mental note when He sang to you, "Baby, write this down..." And yes! What a blessing you have to write and share His love, in the peculiars of the little 'nothings' of life, and doesn't that quite relate to the verse you recently read, stating that He uses the weak and insignificant, the quietest, the inconsequential - to make the loudest, most profound statements. And you realize it's not unlike you. What blessing!
And the best part is, you'd seen Mr. Oscar at that entrance twice before, and both times felt so appreciated and welcome, for walking in the door. And you'd known and felt that blessing. And tonight when you express it, and he shares his prayer from the morning and starts to cry, you realize the cool thing about all of it was that God was already answering his prayer to let His light and love shine, He had already been those two other times -- God 'had been' answering Mr. Oscar's prayer even before he prayed it, felt it in his heart. Whaaaat delight, then, when you could lean in close (old ears) and share that the song overhead was just pleading "heaven let your light shine down." "Well, you're going to make me cry, again."
Keep praying, you never know how it's already going to have been answered. And listen. If God can touch my heart through country music, He. can. use. it. all!
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