Season of Love

We had this chapel speaker when I was at college.  I actually think they were talking about the differences between boys and girls, but what was said finally put words to something I felt for a long time was just sand through my fingers.  He said that girls are like spaghetti and we think like spaghetti, everything connected, everything stopping and starting with something else.  One big mess of yumminess.  Cue lightbulb over the main character's head here.  That's it!  That's why, when driving down the road, I could think about cows, chocolate chip ice cream sandwiches and my best friend all in a single breath AND explain how one thought led to the next.  The way I think, the way I process life is always, forever, connected.

So last night I found myself in a small school auditorium listening to songs, ideas, that were once again giving voice, words really, to ideas that had been scratching the surface for a while, but to no avail.  We have very dear friends here in South Africa who are actually Americans.  Both the husband and wife work at the American International School here in Joburg.  The wife, a phenomenal musician, was part of the four-person band for the high school's musical production, RENT.

I love RENT.  It was the very first musical I ever saw, in a small theater in San Fransisco when I was really young, somewhere around 8 or 9.  I have no idea how I managed to go as I can't see my mom ever approving of this outing, but I remember going.  I remember hearing the music and (looking back) not really understanding any of the actual production.  The local cast here was great, the female vocalists were outstanding.  I know some people will find it hard to believe that I could hear the voice of my Maker in a production that has sexuality, drugs, AIDS, poverty and a myriad of other topics, but I did.  I sat and listened to this idea that you absolutely have to be present or you will miss some of the best moments... here, listen.

There's only us, there's only this
Forget regret or life is yours to miss
No other road , no other way
No day but today

We must let go to know what's right, 
No other road, no other way
No day but today

I can't control my destiny
I trust my soul, my only goal
Is just to be.

There's only now, there's only here
Give in to love or live in fear
No other path, no other way

A long, long time ago, I gave in to Love and my life has never been the same.   In a recent podcast I was listening to, the pastor said that over 50% of young people in the church cannot articulate their parents' faith story.  The truth is, mine has always been really hard to me to say.  I was six in a small church and I heard in my soul Love asking me to participate with Him in His creation.  It was so easy to say "yes".

Many, many times over the last few years, Todd and I have been put on a different playing field by others, Christian or not.  People hear "missionary" and they think of some unrealistic sacrifice that they couldn't possibly make.  Or they think crazy die-hards who do nothing more than sit around reading the King James Bible and speak in "thees" and "thou shalt not."  But for us, the reality is this:  We are just people.  We're people who are following hard after Love because He first loved us.  "No other road, no other way... Give in to LOVE or live in fear."  For me, it's really that simple.

My favorite song in the whole production, Seasons of Love, was actually my ringtone for a while.  For me, it's always been a reminder that the measuring stick of life isn't paychecks, loads of laundry finished, how many parenting books I read or how clean my home is.  It doesn't matter how many awards I won in college, what size and brand of jeans I wear, or the number of charity runs I complete.  I don't want to ever look back and think I could have been a better friend or mother or neighbor or human being but instead I chose dishes or picking up toys or driving the car pool.  Last night, very poignantly, I was brought back again to what seems to be the emerging theme of my life right now- be present, be available, be open and honest and Love- true, deep, meaningful love from the very Maker of love, the Lover of my soul, will pour forth.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, a year in the life?

How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love

Seasons of love
Seasons of love

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand journeys to plan
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure the life of a woman or a man?

In truths that she learned
Or in times that he cried
In bridges he burned
Or the way that she died

It's time now, to sing out
Though the story never ends

This move is rough, I'm not going to lie.  Over and over and over again, though, I'm hearing the same thing in different words from so many sides.  "I've got this but you, you have THAT."  Yes, this is a monumental move that very few people will ever understand.  That said, we all face battles that very few other people ever understand fully.  We aren't here to compare because, well, it's pointless.  At the end of the day, we will all have to account for ourselves.  Our own actions.  Our own storehouse of love and how we spent it.  I recently stumbled across a blog that made my heart ache.  A mama I've never met who lives in Colorado is dying.  She has four babes, just like me.  But her words to me, to my heart, are the echoes of the words from the musical, from the Advent Calendar I've just finished, from the devotional a friend gave me two years ago.  

Be here.  

Be alive.  

Be present... or you're going to miss these flowers.  

You're going to miss these babes.  

You're going to miss the One who created those flowers and these babes, you're going to miss 

Love Himself.