It started snowing around 9ish. Everyone in the stores kept passing along the news, and the lady working the dressing rooms said, "Oh, you can leave your basket here and go look and then come back, if you want to!" Snow or anything remotely resembling snow is an anomaly here, so I almost took her up on it! The last time it snowed here, I lived in a different house with a very different atmosphere. Somehow, remembering that makes this time seem even more special to me. A sort of mini redemption, if you will. Just a thought.
Last night, Momma took my brother and I to see Andrew Peterson and his friends perform "Behold the Lamb" in this lovely church. The acoustics in the sanctuary were amazing, and when Peterson closed out the night, he prompted the audience to sing It Is Well and The Doxology. The entire room sang like a heavenly choir as the performers quietly exited. When the last notes of the grand "Ahh-men" died away, all that was left was an empty cross, an empty stage, and a silent feeling of worship pervading the room. Slowly and then all at once, we sheepishly applauded one another, laughed, and wiped our eyes. It was one of the holiest infinite moments I've ever stood in.
|Pictured left to right: Jill Phillips, Andrew Peterson, and Scott Mulvahill|
Our micro family felt selfishly about those last precious moments, so to cap the memory off just us three, we quickly scuttled out into the cold to avoid getting stuck in the parking lot, and opted to grab breakfast for dinner. Everything was perfect.
I found a pomegranate at the store this evening that was so ripe, it had split open across the top. When I got it home, I was able to tear it open with my bare hands and eat the entire thing with hardly any yucky spots. Happy tummy, happy heart. ;)
I got an impression at the beginning of this year while I was at Bible school, "The pieces are coming together." Not sure what that means specifically, nor if it was the Lord or just my wishful thinking. What I do know is that things seem to slowly be slotting into place as this year draws to a close. Things I once only dreamed of have been dumped into my lap like so many treasures month after month. Sure, some of them are used, come with little dents in their shoulders, but that just adds to their charm, to their beauty. Artistically, I've never been so fulfilled or excited or specific. I don't know how else to express how gentle this year has been in comparison to ones past. I just sense the Lord weaving His goodness into everything, even the situations that have left me without words, both the good and the unutterably bad.
Like Peterson sang last night, "He's always good, He's always good, He's always good."
And it's still snowing...