God and I often communicate in hushed conversation as I go about the business of the work at hand. Something I've noticed in all the years of our relationship is that he often whispers to me through snatches of songs that play in a seemingly random way in my head.
For the last couple of days I've woken up with a Patty Griffin song (from her 1,000 Kisses album) in my head. The line that plays over and over says, "Strange how hard it rains now/rows and rows of big dark clouds..."
Puttering around in my jammies this morning, getting my kids fed and ready and off to school, I wondered to God about that line. Yes, I have been feeling significant sadness in the last couple of days. It stems from the sense of being misunderstood by long time friends that we love dearly. These are people who are very important in our lives, people who mean a lot to us. And I just feel sad. The sadness feels like rain.
The "rows and rows of big dark clouds" hover closely as well. I look ahead at all that needs to be done and the thousands and thousands of dollars that need to be raised in order to get us functioning in ministry in Africa again. Yes, it all feels like rows of big dark clouds. Not imminent danger, but heaviness.
I paused at the back of the kitchen looking out the window at the deep clarity of a blue sky. "God, have you lost your mind?" I asked. (I'm very sorry if you don't think I should talk to Him that way. I'm just being honest. I just have to ask if He's really got this plan all thought out.)
The next song that came to my mind is a Brian Houston song off of his 35 Summers album. "I said why'd You have to give me such impossible dreams/He said I like to make dreams come true..."
That's basically what my question about God's mind was all about. I was resenting that we have these huge dreams that we feel so strongly are God-given. But it really looked to me like His eyes sparkled as He responded with that "I like to make dreams come true" line.
This idea of impossible dreams took my mind to something I heard Lyndall Bywater say in Dresden last year. (Lyndal is in leadership with the Salvation Army in England and when she speaks, we all stop in our tracks.) Lyndall said that if we're not doing something so big and impossible that we can't even get out of bed in the morning without God, then we're not doing anything worth doing.
The memory of her words rebuked my softly. I have been longing for this place. I know how it feels to be desperately aware of how much I need God, to be dreaming such wild dreams in impossible times that it almost feels like just breathing throws me at His feet. And I had been missing this place.
Now I am here and I am sad?
I wrapped Heather's cut apples and carrots and placed them in her lunch.
As I moved on to Colin's lunch I heard myself singing, "For the beauty of the earth, for the glory of the skies, for the love which from our birth OVER AND AROUND US LIES, Lord of all to Thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise."
I smiled to myself at the place the Lord had brought me to as I did early morning chores in conversation with Him. I wouldn't say the sadness or the feelings of being overwhelmed have gone away, but I am aware of a covering of love, a goodness and a mercy that follow me all the days of my life.
I feel grateful and praiseful for God who sings to me.