Singular

We are watching football tonight friends (and every night, it seems). It makes me remember an experience from last year. This is a re-post from October 25, 2008…


“I don’t know what it is about leaving and then returning home, but it makes me feel…hopeful.”

We are driving back from Morgantown, having just watched the West Virginia Mountaineers beat the Auburn Tigers. The trees are glorious in this country, and I have spent the last half hour silent, eyes filled with blushing Maples and beaming Beeches.

This is his favorite—to drive with me beside him; listening to music…just being together.

And I realize it is my favorite too.

That is when I see it.

Amongst the reds and remnants of green, peeping out from behind the browning yellow of the Poplars: a brilliant orange, standing alone.

We are driving too fast to study the tree, but I see enough to recognize its singular beauty—its unique form.

Something about this lone sentinel in this patchwork of brilliant colors touches me. Brings to mind a moment during the game last night.

At one point, I noticed how the gold of the mountaineer fans filled the stadium–a wave of color. Bodies pressing together, moving together; individuals blurring into one body.

So many people.

I am just a drop in the ocean. I begin to feel as if I might drown.

An airplane flies over head and as I look up, I wonder how we look to God looking down.

Is this wave of gold beautiful to Him? Does He think it foolish to gather in such a way? Or does He rejoice to see the folly?

Mostly I imagine Him looking down at that mass of gold and seeing me. Because He always does. I am blaze orange to Him…peeping out from behind the gold. He sees my singular beauty.

Even when I cannot.

This thought, this knowledge—like a law of nature—anchors me and buoys me at the same time. No longer am I drowning.

Sheepishly, I feel the urge to wave at Him. But I restrain myself. My brother and sister-in-law, after all, are nonbelievers, and how would I explain that I am waving to God in the midst of 60,000 people?

So I wink instead. And smile. And for a moment, we have had this amazing intimate retreat, just Him and me.

Everything is worship.

Comments

  1. says

    Laura, I love the personal intimacy described here.

    I think I’ll be doing some winking and possible waving as part of my worship today 🙂

    Blessings,
    Joy

  2. says

    Love this. I do wave:)

    Laura, I love how you SEE what is around you and know it is all part of God’s landscape. This is so refreshing. Thanks for posting again. B

  3. says

    I love the way your heart and mind work Laura. I find myself nodding in understanding agreement when I read your words.
    I have often thought, as I pray, about the millions of voices raised to Him at that exact same moment. Yet He hears me,and bends down to listen, as though I was the only talking to Him. Miraculous.

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