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For the kingdom of God is not food and drink but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. (Romans 14:17)
Sunlight cut through every
contrary thought and emotion, inviting chilled bodies and spirits from their
cocoons to bask (finally) in the sacrament of springtime. So it is on this Saturday
morning.
But spring’s belated resurrection
is a tiny fraction of the consolation that warms me. Sound does that, the discordant
chintz of a toy piano playing on an IPad—and a voice of love, choked with tears,
from across the living room.
“Is that where it all began?”
Dixie asks. The question needs no further context. Two minds fly as one to the
orange shag in her parents’ long-ago living room and a tow-headed boy joyfully pounding
out painful chords and tuneless melodies on a miniature piano of plastic and particle
board.
How old? Just two, I think, at least in the mental picture we jointly
hold and which holds us in fast silence at the holy mystery of it all. Who’d have
thought the making of a master musician began on orange shag carpet?
But that other voice, the one that never stays quiet for long,
quickly corrects. No, it didn’t begin there but a little earlier.
It began in the depths of non-time when Love’s Source chose
that there should be beauty; and if beauty, then souls whose joy is sharing in
its creation; and if them, then other souls who partake of its wonder, lifted
above the banal to consolation and joy, illumination and insight by the manifold
colors and textures flowing through human imaginations from Love’s infinite
store where it all began; often showing up where you least expect.
It all began in the boundless sea of Love from which our best
tears flow, like these on a sun-kissed Saturday morning, when the awakened heart
again discovers what an unlikely and mysterious journey life is.
Every moment is somehow carried in the flow of a Love beyond
knowing, trying its best to carry us home to where it all began.
David L Miller
