Friday, February 14, 2014
On Kisses from God...
So I was sitting in my shower this morning, scraping off my glittery nail polish (note to self. Your toenails are terrifying. Seek professional help. Really) and ruminating over a dream I had in the predawn hours. You see, since an onset of severe sleep apnea I rarely remember my dreams and when I do, they’re stupid. Last one I had I was having a conversation with a blue dog.
You see, I am about as spiritual as mac and cheese – and not the ooey gooey Velveeta joy in an orange box, but more the generic Kraft knock off with that dayglo powder that sticks in in a defiant pasty curdle on the edge of your spatula. That stuff. Last night however, I dreamed of Colleen. I saw her dressed in cobalt, the air around her alive with light. She was singing a song I’ve never heard before and she was surrounded – not by angels but by some of the Worship Team, the choir and her family. It was so real I could have reached out and touched the shoulders of the people worshiping with her…
Chalk it up to that cold Carl’s Jr. bacon western burger I munched on the way home from her Life Celebration or the staccato firings of dendrites attempting to soothe my overwhelmed heart, but I believe it was a little kiss from God. And I’m tasked to hold it lightly on my fingertips for a moment then send it off gently to someone else in the hope that it lifts a soul, just a little. Only God can infuse my dark words with light for someone else. I don’t have that power.
To those of you commented on my Facebook page yesterday, you have no idea how humbling that was. Truth is I write because I’m not an adept musician (bagpipes on a worship team….uh no.) and the first time I heard myself recorded while singing, I was shocked to know that I sounded more like Kermit the frog than Stevie Nicks (I’m also twirl impeded. Sigh) I write because I’m so much better on paper than in person. Take away the me in the mirror, the imperfections, and there is no filter to dilute the depth of emotion I want to convey. I have no desire to fill up journals with morose, self-absorbed ramblings. I have enough of those rotting on my bookshelves to paper the cages of Petland for the next millennium. I write for you. Because I love you. Because you matter. Because I see that light within you and I am drawn to it. Maybe my words will be the mirror that lets you see that light…you’re alive with it and it shimmers around you – effervescent and beautiful.