“Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone…
…they paved paradise, and put up a parking lot…”
I am one of those who, like the song, all too often doesn’t recognize what I have until it is gone. I want to change that – I want to be mindful, thankful, and grateful as I admit that Yes, my cup is filled to the brim. One more drop, and it will overflow with the sweetness and bitterness, the joy and sorrow, the heart-stopping beauty that means you are alive and breathing and seeing.
I moved to Philadelphia in August, not expecting that I would find a family, a community that would surround me, laugh with me, speak into my life, and allow me to speak into theirs. I didn’t imagine their lives and mine would intertwine so quickly. And last night as we sat around the living room, sharing our highs and our lows of the past week, sharing a meal and laughter and music and prayer, something shifted in my heart, and I really saw those around me. In just a few short months, these (plus a few more) have become a part of me and my heart – my community.
I think that 90 percent of the time, I blunder through life unaware. Yet there are moments the veil is lifted, and the warm, rich, buttery light floods in and illuminates the darkness. My heart and my limbs thaw a little more, and the chill of frostbite that has me frozen recedes a little bit. Last night was one of those moments.
I saw men and women admitting their brokenness, doubt, and pain. I saw honesty and truth piercing the lies that would keep us apart. And I heard words of love, of hope, and of faith being spoken over each person there. Last night, spring came just a little bit closer for each of us – spring and the promise of new growth, of green, of life, of warmth, of dancing and rain and beauty. And I saw it.
My cup – my heart – my life – is overflowing. And I just want to shout it from the treetops – or at least sing it in the forest…