There is something about music that transports me. It does something to my brain and to my body that is unexplainable. Honestly. Now as I listen to the live music filling the spaces of my favorite coffee shop, I am nothing short of mesmerized. I sit pensive and full of thought with a simple smile painted across my face, my thoughts shift to to dreams and all that they encompass. Dreams of someday being able to sing and play music like this. Wondering if I ever really will.
I know after years of hoping this dream will never really die. Yet I have filed it away to make space for the dreams and passions that are relevant to my life in this season. There are some dreams that some days just have to take priority. At this point in my life I recognize that. But it doesn’t keep those dreams from awakening in the night seasons or from crying out to the sound of the voice calling from the deepest places within me. Among these dreams is the hope for a future with a husband and a family. I know that I can be satisfied in God. In this sense, these dreams are not a need, but rather desires. There are so many examples of brokenness and a fall from grace in what God had originally intended of love. Some days that brokenness is enough to keep me from hoping. Yet, some days in the light of that love, hoping seems to be all I can do. Still some days I can be so filled with love’s origin that I know I will want for nothing.
In this moment with the reverberations flowing out from the acoustic guitar and the vocal chords of the man behind the microphone, the depth of what he is feeling and has felt upon writing the very words he now sings spills over me and into my core. I smile, although my eyes are bright with tears. I once again begin to dream that someone, someone like the many examples of what a future might be, someone that will see me in spite of myself finding the beauty that God has painted in the shades of pink across these lips, curved into gentle smile. There is beauty and intention found in the perfect pieces of color that our creator hand-picked to scatter into my hazel irises.
Perhaps the longing that begins leaking out at the sound of the notes filling this downtown coffee shop, is not for some maybe stranger to recognize this being for what it is.. Perhaps it is rather for me to realize the gentleness and passion that has crafted me for what I am: a vessel that might hold such beauty, that could carry and release love’s origin within myself. I can be loved, because I was first loved by my creator. I can become an embodiment of this love as I learn to receive that love as freely as it is given. There is no containing such love.
In this moment with the reverberations flowing out from the acoustic guitar and the vocal chords of the man behind the microphone, the depth of what he is feeling and has felt upon writing the very words he now sings spills over me and into my core. I smile, although my eyes are bright with tears. I once again begin to dream that someone, someone like the many examples of what a future might be, someone that will see me in spite of myself finding the beauty that God has painted in the shades of pink across these lips, curved into gentle smile. There is beauty and intention found in the perfect pieces of color that our creator hand-picked to scatter into my hazel irises.
Perhaps the longing that begins leaking out at the sound of the notes filling this downtown coffee shop, is not for some maybe stranger to recognize this being for what it is.. Perhaps it is rather for me to realize the gentleness and passion that has crafted me for what I am: a vessel that might hold such beauty, that could carry and release love’s origin within myself. I can be loved, because I was first loved by my creator. I can become an embodiment of this love as I learn to receive that love as freely as it is given. There is no containing such love.
