My bro-bro’s PJ and Mike and I have a theory that we’re like whales. We like to swim in deep water, but every now and then we have to surface and just blow it out our blowholes. (hee hee) I’ve been pretty deep lately. I’d say the broken arm post was me starting to come up. The last post I was breaching. I can’t be sure, but at least tonight I feel like wallowing on the surface, smacking my tail around.
Either there is an alien growing in my ankle or I’ve cracked/broken/torn something, and I have NO IDEA HOW! I was explaining to Shannon that every now and then it gets a little stiff, but usually goes away. Tuesday morning I got up and it was kind of stiff. I didn’t think anything about it and went about my day. Wednesday morning I got up and it was stiff. I went ahead and worked out, and it was kind of twingy, but not too bad. By Wednesday night I could hardly walk. Now it’s swollen and I can hardly stand to put weight on it. And I can’t for the life of me figure out what I did! Here’s the funny part: As I drove to Ridgecrest tonight to PD an event this weekend I told Shannon I might have to go to the doctor on Monday. In and of itself that’s not so funny except as hobbled down to my room I thought I might not make it to Monday, I might need to go to the ER tomorrow. This part isn’t funny either except I remembered that at some point in the recent past I gave my insurance card to somebody who was taking one of my kids somewhere, and I can’t remember who. So I’m at Ridgecrest without my insurance card, and my ankle’s mysteriously the size of a softball. It’s sound terrible, but I keep laughing about it, so it must not be that bad. Of course it’s 1:15 in the morning, and I’ve been up since 4:30.
So I’m pretty sure I had a worship experience the car tonight with Peter Gabriel. I say pretty sure because I was singing at the top of my lungs, grinning like the village idiot while driving the North Carolina hills. I was “listening” to “Growing Up Live.” “Listening” is a word used here to mean I had the DVD in my cpu playing through the car stereo. (I would steal an occasional peak at the screen.) I have to say, whatever you’re doing right now, stop it. If you’re sleeping, wake up, get in the car and rush to your nearest purveyor of live concert DVD and purchase this. Stop reading!! Put the computer down and rush, I say, rush to get it. Barilliant. Brilstinkinliant. Kevin Jordan, I blame you for not introducing me to this sooner. I could have seen this years ago! And why doesn’t Kevin have a Facebook so I can properly berate him?
Anyway, I say ‘pretty sure’ because I’m having a fantastic time singing with Peter Gabriel, and I think to myself, “you know, people talk about what they hope Jesus says to them when they get to heaven, but when my time comes, I hope Jesus shows up singing ‘Solsbury Hill’ to me.” And then later I thought, “and my response to Him will be ‘In Your Eyes’
He’ll sing:
My heart was going boom boom, boom
Son, he said, grab your things, I’ve come to take you home.
And I’ll answer:
In your eyes, the light, the heat
In your eyes I am complete
In your eyes, the resolution
Of all the fruitless searches
In your eyes, I see the light and the heat
In your eyes
Oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
The heat I see in your eyes
And I realized I was worshipping in a way that’s very rare for me: I was completely unconscious of it. And I think those are the sweetest moments for me: when find myself ten feet deep in worship without the slightest idea of how I got there.
One final thing. I got here (RCC) around midnight. On the check-in counter is a flyer with big letters at the top saying: “Warning! Bear Sightings!”
Go figure.
4 months ago
1 comment:
Growing Up Live is my soundtrack for life. I had the DVD for about a year before breaking down and buying the CDs, too (mainly because I don't have a DVD player in my car). Pretty much, if I'm in my living room and not concentrating on reading, the DVD goes in. Painting the walls? Growing Up Live. Wrapping Christmas presents? White Christmas? Nah. Growing Up Live.
I've also gotten in heated discussions with people who don't recognize the genius of Mr. Gabriel. It makes me happy that someone else out there in Nashville will take Peter Gabriel over...say...Gavin DeGraw (blegh).
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