For whatever reason, words are how I make sense of life. Maybe you too? Maybe you make sense of it all a different way. But as I sit in the midst of beauty, my kids playing underfoot, my fingers itch to make sense of it all, breathe life into it all, by giving this glorious moment words. And I have none.
So I scratch it onto paper bound and sitting precariously on my lap:
How do you give words to the song? How do you reduce the scattering to mere verbiage? How does the wind on my face permeate my pen and find life?
Perhaps the moments God truly comes near and enters in are too big for words and are best left just to be.
Perhaps the act of "just being" is worship enough and the inability to fully remember only increases the majesty of future moments.
Sometimes fear drives my pen. I am scared I will experience moments in life and forget them. That is how I feel right now...amidst the leaves, the birds and the sun...that it will all dissipate as soon as I enter my home, fallen and messy and work-filled, and I will forget.
But maybe forgetting is the gift of brand new.
It may be that those moments serene that capture our hearts are best left alone to discover again another day...in another moment, surprised by beauty.
It may be true that we should read more than we write, listen more than we talk, be still more than we are busy.
Maybe sitting at the feet of Jesus is enough. Maybe I should try to be more like a Mary and less like a Martha.
I turn to the oh-so-familiar story as the wind rustles my pages and am comforted to see something I hadn't noticed before.
Luke says that Martha was "distracted." But Mary?
"But one thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her." (Luke 10:42, emphasis mine)
Mary didn't sit at His feet in vain...a memory that will fade into nothingness as her days stretch out into years. A serene moment only to be pushed out by living and striving. A promise...this moment, tranquil at the feet of our Savior..."will not be taken away from her."
Sometimes in a mad scramble to remember sacred moments, breathe life into an experience, they can almost become desecrated.
It is true that the giving of words to all lessons and moments holy in my life is an act of worship. It is true that God is glorified when we stop and give credence to our thoughts and experiences by recording them.
But it's also true that maybe...sometimes...our words are lacking, our vocabulary too minute, our pens to slow to capture true beauty. Maybe...occasionally...it is enough to just experience the beauty and sit at His feet.
Perhaps there are moments where, instead of penning words for worship, we ought to forsake words for the sake of worship.
Maybe, sometimes, it's enough to whisper thanks. Say it is good. And breathe deep of His splendor.
Continuing to count in 2012 at slow, but steady pace. Searching for joy...in every place the Lord leads me...
69. Friends who make me a better "me"
70. The sound of rain
71. Wisps of little girl hair, smelling of sunshine
72. Sixty degrees in January
73. Homemade pizza with neighbor friends
74. Warm fire
75. Rosy cheeks
76. Clean sheets