sunrise psalm.
For the rest of our lives we have a universal topic of conversation with even the most unknown strangers…
What was COVID-19 like for you?
…and for the rest of my life I’ll get to return that question with the answer, “I fell apart.”
I fell completely apart. My experience of quarantine was depression and anger and despair and pain and an earthquake-like shaking and instability that brought every hollow thing crashing to the floor. Grief caught up to me. Pain caught up to me. Masquerading idols were exposed. Since I’d built a house on unfelt pain and avoided grief and little ‘g’ gods wearing big “G” masks - exposure came not with hurricane winds but with the simplicity of gravity, toppling the unsupported without effort. Exposure was the earthquake, gravity the aftermath.
Despair-filled eyes don’t see much, hope and connection seem as realistic as unicorns, and the closeness of Jesus can feel nonexistent. More days than not I felt blind in the process. One morning I was reminded of Truth that became my lone guide wire through the blinding sandstorm - God’s only ask of me was to not give up. Not giving up thankfully came with a definition - don’t give up knowing that we are going somewhere, that there’s a destination to be reached, that this season would not last forever.
Somewhere in May, about midway through the journey, I was feeling extra poetically hopeful one morning and a psalm poured out of my pen. Reading it now produces a chuckle and a shaking head because I know that when I wrote these words I was sure the light had come to stay. I was sure the dark waves had permanently receded. That this story was receiving, like a diploma, the neat and tidy bow on top. Instead, there were more dark days, more panic attacks, and more pain to be wrestled with. But the words wrapped my guide wire in velvet poetry, helping me hold tight - still helping me hold tight. Giving words to my heart when I don’t have them to not give up, he is coming.
Your love was there all along
Like the warmth of the sun though I could see no light
A respectful companion, the hedge guiding and guarding my path
Once more you’ve humbled my portrait of You
Where I once marveled at the intricate details I’d captured
I see only scribbles and stick figure lines
You are richer than earth
Your goodness spills out like color over the horizon at dawn
Let what I know of You be like those spilled colors washing the sky
Let my life herald your arrival the same
Those spilled melodies race before the sun
Inch by inch proclaiming mercy and goodness
Never slowing, always dancing
Whether our eyes witness their performance or not
May my story be a life spilled before you
A rich purple stretching out into the dark
A Paul Revere ride of holy celebration
He’s coming, he’s coming, he is coming
To every heart fearing night will last forever
To every soul believing love never learned their name
He’s coming, he’s coming, he is coming
