A softened heart is a miracle. An act of a loving God in fact. An act that seemed so far from me days ago.
But I asked and He answered. Rather immediately in fact. The process has been a beautiful one to reflect on. I realized about 10 minutes ago that I was playing music again; in that passionate trance kind of way that only happens when my heart is in a good place. It was then that I realized my bad days and ill mood were over and my heart had been melted. Sigh.
It began yesterday…
I knew I had to get out of the city. I needed solitude. Time alone to remember. To think. To be.
I was surprised by the company of a friend who I miss so much it hurts. She joined me on my just right trip to nowhere.
We had lunch on the Hudson and walked along the quiet waters in a no named town. I can’t remember the last time I walked that slowly. But it was good and I could feel the thickness of the peace that was around me.
Before returning home, I used the last free hour of my Zip Car to ride back up the Hudson. Alone this time. I finally figured how to get the top down on the Mini Coop, so I was riding up 9A on the brink of a sunset with the wind blowing through my hair. Whatever had been trapped was released… Bitterness, anger, pride, frustration, defeat. All washed by the wind and the beauty of the water. Every breath brought more freedom and I could feel it.
I should tell you there was music. Music is always present in its own way, but today I settled on Patty Griffin. Moses. I adore this song. And yet I’ve been awaiting a moment worthy of the beauty and pain the lyrics soothe. Yesterday’s drive was that moment.
Fast forward to this morning. I knew today would make or break my heart. Knowing that I have no power over the true reactions of my heart (they are, for the most part impatient and prideful at the core) I asked the only one I knew who could bypass my nature and guide my soul. I think I started out with a Psalm. A Psalm, a lot of honest confession, and celebration.
I think it was 6:00 pm walking around the corner of Broadway and 105th street that I recognized the goodness of my day. And that my bad day streak was officially over. Then came the twirling. Twirling to Patty in my speakers (again). And then Zach Williams (if you don’t know him, know him). Over the next two hours, the vibrations of chords made their way to my own fingers and voice as my own guitar ushered me the rest of the way out of my bitter rut. Before I knew it, I had slipped into a half hour musical trance–trances that, I swear, are spiritual and filled with more passion that I radiate anyplace else. (even the classroom.)
So somewhere between a best friend, a river, and gorgeous chords, I was brought back. . . restored. And I am twirling with thankfulness. And writing. It is finished.
“Diamonds, roses,I need Moses
To cross this sea of loneliness, Part this red river of pain
I don’t necessarily buy any key to the future or happiness
But I need a little place in the sun sometimes Or I think I will die
Everywhere is somewhere And nowhere is near…”