I was watching a music video last night and was struck by how powerfully I related to it. The song is old. The performer is “pop country”. I like them both separately, the song and the singer, but for some reason when I listen to them together in this performance I am touched. Especially at one point. But I won’t tell you which point because it doesn’t matter.
Later last night I closed my eyes to go to sleep and I thought “that’s when I felt God the most.” I wasn’t consciously thinking about the song or about faith. But I opened my eyes and nearly got out of bed to write. Instead I thought “when I feel Him most” and went to sleep.
I woke up thinking the same thing. I know we all have different ways of believing, acting on and in our beliefs, and supporting our churches. My mom cringes because I don’t “go to church”.
But I can recall very vivid moments when I felt God most. And none of those moments were when I stood in a church.
They are very personal moments, and I don’t mind sharing them. But they are my moments and will mean only to me what they were meant to mean. I won’t share them all, just a few.
Husband and I used to drive a thirty to forty minute drive to work every day. On many more than once occasion I would look up from whatever book or computer work I was doing from the passenger seat and see a vision that took my breath away. It always involved the sky. If it was winter it would be the darkest blue your eye can catch…before it appears black. The stars would appear as the brightest white we know without seeing the robes of heaven. And the whisps of clouds were enough to make your heart whirl. If it was spring the vision included the pale blue, the breaking white and lavender, and pinks and oranges that no man could recreate with color.
Once, after my father died, I stood in the cemetery behind his earthly plot, in his dark green plaid coat. In a downpour of rain and rain and rain. Suddenly with out a preamble or a clear reason I felt a powerful loss and a huge release. I stood in the rain and cried like I had never cried. I knew I did not stand there alone. To the world I may have appeared alone. In my heart I was not.
With each of my children I have had moments where I held them, as I always did, but something would ignite in me and I would see their tiny face, feel their tiny breathing, and know the true gift they were.
Years ago I was going through a divorce. It was night. I could not sleep and I was alone. No one knows the suffering of another and I felt utterly alone. I walked in to my living room. The house was dark but for the odd way your eyes adjust and you can “see”. I was suddenly forced to my knees. Literally made to drop. It was as if hands had pushed me down by the shoulders and feet had kicked me behind the knees. I landed on my knees in prayer fashion and prayed. Prayed for everyone I loved. Prayed for everyone who stopped loving me. And felt an odd comfort in my chest that I had not felt for a very long time. And suddenly I was no longer alone.
There are moments within an every day where suddenly my heart is full. It’s happened while I have eaten lunch with friends. Or been on a bike ride by myself. It’s happened while I read a book. Or even watch TV.
It’s something I can’t explain. But I know what it is. It’s the moments when I feel Him most. I can’t force these moments. I can’t expect them or create them. I can pray and I do. I can hope and I do. But the moments when I have them, I suspect I have them, when He sees a need in me. Or knows something I don’t. Which, come on, if most people know more than I do, you know HE knows more than I do! I also suspect it is when He knows that I will pay attention and acknowledge. And be grateful.