We were playing cribbage last Thursday when I described my life to my friend, how the Spirit is stirring, where the Father is leading, what Jesus’ love is solidifying.
He saw this:
I am standing in front of a forest, looking up at the light of the sky. The Father is dousing me with affection while the trees watch. Anticipation begins to swirl around me like clouds, mounting to heaven and swallowing my view of the landscape. The expectancy chatters back and forth excitedly– “Is it time? Can we go yet?”
All I see is the Father’s light through the hole, all I hear is the Spirit’s euphoria, all I feel is his love channeled through the funnel.
And he’s waiting for me to dance.
I was crying when my friend finished.
I wanted to dance. I didn’t know what I was waiting for.
On Saturday I drove up to Duluth with friends to see the last of the fall colors. There were three rows of conversation about Love happening at the same time.
We stopped at Tobie’s for caramel rolls and coffee. I talked with my brother about God being enough and still needing people.
We camped on the beach in sweaters and scarves and bare feet. I retrieved my guitar and sang to Superior.
I tucked Eliana in my arms while we watched the boys build a structure with driftwood.
I smoked my first pipe and tried to sing at the same time, filling my mouth with stinging saliva and my clothes with a nutty vanilla scent.
I listened to my friend effuse about God coming for her, the fear of letting people in, the comparison of faith. I told her to pursue the places of fear to find out if Jesus’ love is enough to bring freedom and restore misplaced self.
Then along the shore I traced the outline of the waves with a stave, running in and out of the lapping water. It was tag with the Spirit, and the delight of a thousand childhood summer days welled in me, escaping in laughter when he flooded my boots in a cold gush. I love you…
It happened while I explored the woods behind the beach. I was trying to get to the lighthouse when I came across a crumbling silo tucked in the trees.
I shouted to see if it would echo. Fit my feet and fingers into the pockets of brick and climbed a few feet before dropping down.
Looking up at the sky through the hole, I saw the light. I saw the funnel, remembered the trees, felt the anticipation in the silo’s stillness.
I saw what my friend had seen, glimpsed God’s heart for me.
After pizza and tiramisu, we drove home beneath a banner of stars. A few of us rapped Lecrae back and forth all the way to Circle Pines. It was the first time in my life I was free to sound silly and fully enjoy it.
Only because I am doused by the love of the Father.
Only because I am satisfied in the delight of the Spirit.
Only because I am walking in the sand-prints of the Son.
Only now has it occurred to me that I have already been dancing.