Tonight was a good night.
You may be wondering why I'm writing so late. I'll tell you. It was such a good night that there was nothing more fitting than for me to write about it immediately - to put the goodness into words.
I had an awful night's rest last night. In all honesty, I've not slept well in a while. Those who know me best know that I dream often and remember most of my dreams because they are so vivid. Often they are wacky and have provided many a laugh for me throughout the years. However, when they turn bad, my dreams can be... well... intense.
Recently it seems that several nights per week I experience horrid nightmares that rattle me awake and keep me staring into the darkness for hours on end. Last night I, yet again, experienced one of those horrid nightmares. I won't go into the details of the nightmare (they really aren't important to the point I'm wanting to make) but suffice it to say that I was up for several hours in the middle of the night too disturbed to go back to sleep.
I rose early, after eventually dozing lightly for about an hour, and began the day with no hope toward experiencing goodness. The funny thing about hope, though, is that it sneaks up on you when you least expect it. And I suppose goodness is similar. In the dark of the night, hope and goodness seemed to be the farthest thing away. But just like the slow breaking of dawn, they came.
I'm attending a new church these days: All Saints Episcopal Church. I don't typically make friends easily, and so I knew that coming into a new church by myself and building a whole new social circle would require a lot of me. I've worked hard. I'm attending Bible study and Coffee Call and Confirmation Class, and am trying desperately to match faces with names as I meet a new body of believers.
Part of the hard work in making this new church feel more like home included this evening's Lasagna Night. After the horrible night before, I debated whether I would attend the event. I doubted I would know many people and I loathe the idea of sitting at a table full of strangers and small talking. But eventually, I gathered my will, got ready, and left for Lasagna Night.
I walked into the building and immediately felt my already sour mood sink further into my soul. I didn't recognize anyone - which meant that the dreaded hour of small talk was at hand. I finally did find a table with someone whose face was familiar and sat down. My shyness shone straight away, and I sat on my hands while periodically scanning the room and praying I would see increasingly more familiar faces.
Finally, I saw a very familiar couple - two of the first people I ever met in the halls of this new church. They sat down next to me and I felt the tension that had been building in my shoulders start to release. The woman was on my right, and she and I struck up an easy, lighthearted conversation. I'm still not sure exactly how it happened, but somehow what started with a talk about coffee grew and developed until she and I were both talking and listening to each other with rapt attention, sometimes forgetting the plates of salad and lasagna before us.
I have been incredibly spoiled over the past nine years. If I wanted to discuss mystical theology or muse with someone about how heady theology intersects our daily lives, there was no shortage of people available for those deep conversations. Bible college and seminary had provided me with a space to do what I love best: discuss with people about really important things... about life and love... about faith and hope... about God and what God is doing not only in this world but in our lives. Since moving back home, I hadn't realized how much I missed these deep conversations.
Tonight I found a woman who not only was willing to engage in this type of conversation, but seemed eager to do so. My sour mood began to melt away like the morning dew as kind eyes took me in, as attentive ears heard me out, and as a gentle voice spoke with me about Truth.
I was almost bitter as the dinner portion of the evening concluded and the entertainment portion struck up because I knew that the rich and beautiful conversation was over. But that hint of bitterness didn't last long. Soon I was listening to the live music, humming along and grinning fondly at the different singers who came forward. My eyes crinkled with laughter as comedy (both scripted and improvised) took place.
It was then that I realized I was at peace to the core of me. I was content. And to be honest, I was so incredibly surprised at the realization. My day had started off with such darkness and horror. And now, in the midst of a group of people I barely knew, I was happy.
I looked down at my bracelet and remembered my word of the year. Abundance. I've written twice before on this word. My last post concerning the word was on abundance as a promise rather than fulfillment. I still believe that this is an important aspect of what the word means and I believe that I will need to lean on that concept yet again in the coming days. But tonight was the first night that I actually felt the truth of what abundance could look like in a state of fulfillment. It was not a concept to be understood, but a heartfelt reality to be taken in.
Truth be told, I saw a glimpse of Heaven tonight. I saw a person take time and energy to invest in me as a fellow human - not to get anything out of it, but simply to build relationship. And I saw the Body of Christ show up tonight. They are a merry bunch, exchanging food and smiles eagerly.
Again I looked down at my bracelet and the word inscribed there. My lips parted in a smile as I raised my head to let my eyes take in the room. I drank in the view like it was the glass of water I needed after being parched for too long. People were laughing, eating, sharing stories, and swapping jokes. People were leaned back comfortably in their chairs, feeling every bit as if they were was home. People were shaking hands and exchanging hugs - passing the Peace even though no liturgy was read.
My frightful night could do nothing to me in the face of the joy that rose in my heart. For the first time, abundance was not an abstract concept to me. Abundance was not a promise to be remembered and hoped for tonight. No. Tonight was altogether different. It was as if my soul had been singing a melody (albeit a shaky and sometimes out-of-tune melody), and tonight my soul was joined by others who provided a beautiful harmony. I could feel the fullness of the chords of abundance as they struck out in the Parish Hall.
I know it won't always be like this. Deserts will come and I will have to remember the truth of my previously learned lessons. I will have to remember that abundance is so often found in the promise. But tonight? Tonight I'll rest. I'll rest knowing that there is indeed a fulfillment out there. And it is a beautiful, beautiful thing.