Saturday, March 28, 2009

Holy moments

Sometimes, in the midst of a moment in life, I'm able to practice that third person perspective taking and see myself in a holy moment. Here are a few I've experienced in the past week or so:

Lunch with Mary Bowles: Mary is a member of my congregation who embodies love and nurture. From day one at Harpeth, she has been so supportive of me. At one point during lunch, we were both sharing stories of hurt and frustration with the way life goes sometimes. I appreciate people like Mary for whom life doesn't always have to be OK, and who doesn't always have to have an answer for why things happen.

Playing music by the campfire Friday night: I can look back on my life and think of a number of times when I was making music and I felt completely and totally alive. Friday night was one of those times. I had sat down with a youth to teach him a few youth group songs on know, the ones that use G, C, D, and A. As we sat there working through Lord, I Lift Your Name on High, Every Move I Make (same chord structure), Light the Fire, and Prince of Peace, two of our congregation's more brilliant guitar players/singers sat down with their guitars and began playing. At one point while all four of us were playing Prince of Peace, and folks around us were joining in the singing, I seemed to lose track of where I was. Truly making music with Pat, Bob, John David, Hannah, and Cayla was powerful stuff.

Looking out the window with Sophie: I've blogged about Sophie before. She rocks. Today we had some free time at our church family retreat, and Sophie wanted to show me "this really cool room." It was a pretty cool room. There were bunk beds and even a bed up in a little nook near the ceiling. The two of us sat down on a rather large window sill (kind of like a bay window, but 20 feet long) and looked out the window at the trees that are trying so hard to bloom here in middle Tennessee. We talked about where she might stay at the next family retreat and how much she liked the purple leaves of the dogwood trees. At one point, I looked over at her and she looked back at me and simply smiled and then giggled. We should all probably have more smiling and giggling moments on big window sills.