He stood at the front of the room, close enough to me that I could see his hands trembling over his notes on the stand that separated him from us. He talked about writing, about reality, about life.
I scribbled in my journal as I haven’t done for far too long, wishing I hadn’t written so much of me into my fiction sample, wishing I had selected a non-fiction workshop in which I might have communicated only facts – or poetry, in which I might have cloaked the things that would leave me vulnerable. The music, the old familiarity of the hymns and the liturgy we shared had already brought me too close to breaking; thank God he wasn’t preaching, as he might have done with his time in front of us.
I smiled at a phrase that floated into my reverie, something about Kermit the frog, and how some of us might have heard him sing it. I thought he was teasing. But he reached for a little green puppet, and suddenly, in a half-broken, tender voice, he – and Kermit – began to sing.
Oh no, I thought. He’s not doing this. He’s not really doing this…
And three lines in, to my horror and the utter defeat of any “keep-it-together” ideas I had coming into this weekend, I was crying uncontrollably.
Why are there so many
songs about rainbows
and what’s on the other side?
Rainbows are visions,
but only illusions,
but rainbows have nothing to hide.So we’ve been told and some choose to believe it
I know they’re wrong, wait and see.Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection,
the lovers, the dreamers, and me.Who said that every wish would
be heard and answered
when wished on the morning star?
Somebody thought of that
and someone believed it
and look what it’s done so far.What’s so amazing that keeps us stargazing?
What do we think we might see?Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection,
the lovers, the dreamers, and me.All of us under its spell – we know that it’s probably magic…
Have you been half asleep,
and have you heard voices?
I’ve heard them calling my name.
Is this the sweet song that calls the young sailors?
I think they’re one and the sameI’ve heard it too many times to ignore it -
There’s something that I’m supposed to beSomeday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection,
the lovers, the dreamers, and me…
In that instant, everything I’d been sorting out about God, about art, about me and who I am fell into place as the simple, almost apologetic melody wove together words I’d sung to myself as as a teenager with three days tired, fearful reluctance, and untapped desire. I was crying – without hope of stopping.
I think I have never been so shocked. It wasn’t that I hadn’t been open, but I felt years from any sort of real emotion. I felt far from God – or at least walled off from Him; the “God” things go over my head anymore, I’ve heard them so often.
But here I was, at the very front of the crowd, trying to hide my tears with my short hair, asking God why He’d choose a little song like that, a little a capella melody, a little green puppet – to tell me that He MADE me an artist, that my thanks to Him for being Him is not my worship-words or my gratitude lists, that my music and my stories, the passion that wakes me up and makes me alive: these are my thanks.
He made me this way. I cannot live on a fence between what my head says I must prove I can be and how my heart says to “go, take up your bed, walk.” Writing, photography, loving – it is the opening of my eyes to see and receive the all that I have been given, from the place and the little I have.
The children, He reminded me recently, are unaware of their poverty. They don’t know until we tell them that they lack, and He has told me I have enough in that He will never leave me nor forsake me. To have faith like a child is just this, to be unaware of how little I have, to be only aware of my response to it, and not to pretend there is no response, not to put on an expected response.
When I am grown up, I don’t remember, and even “the facts” aren’t the Truth who lived and died and lives again in me and forever. This waiting, the middle of my story, the place I wouldn’t choose if I had the option to avoid it – this is where I find Him, when I can’t quite put my finger on anything but Christ, when all I know is that He covers me with His righteousness and He created me to live – without shame.
FILED UNDER: Jeffrey Overstreet, Kermit The Frog, Laity Lodge, Retreat, Texas, Writer's Retreat
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this post, that song, your words, “…that He MADE me an artist, that my thanks to Him for being Him is not my worship-words or my gratitude lists, that my music and my stories, the passion that wakes me up and makes me alive: these are my thanks…” so beautiful Kelly! They bring tears to my eyes. I’m going to keep them close to my heart because something in me hears them deeply and answers simply “yes” “YES!” ~xo
sarah recently posted..sugarbird art will be under construction until fall 2011. thank you for your patience ~xo
The song, the place, the beauty of all that starkness — it does things, Good things.
Glynn recently posted..Athol Dickson"s "The Opposite of Art"
It isn’t often we get to have experiences such as you describe here. I’m happy for you, Kelly.
That last photograph shows what a memorable place that part of Texas is.
Maureen recently posted..All Art Friday
Beautiful. There is nothing more to add you said it so well and so full of emotion. Bless you
My absolute favorite post of yours by far. Always amazed at the RANDOM, Simple and beautiful things God uses to reach us.
“…from the place and the little I have.”
I’m remembering when the angel spoke to little Gideon, crouched behind the wine press, not so sure he had anything to offer.
He told him to “go in the strength that you have.” No more than that.
Lyla Lindquist recently posted..About the Corn
What a gift it has been to sit beside you these past few days–beautiful you, just as He made you. Love you, girlie…
laura recently posted..Playdates with God: Mopping as Spiritual Practice
stunning words … i really have no response b/c i feel like you said it all. i don’t want to take away from that. xo
keli recently posted..advertiser spotlight: team cramer
It was such a joy to see you Kelly – a delightful surprise.
I am so thankful the Father spoke to you in such a special way. Isn’t it amazing the lengths He will go to to assure us of His unconditional love? You have written so beautifully so many of the same things I’ve been thinking about lately. Thank you dear heart.
Linda recently posted..I’m Going!
I love this Kelly… and I love the ways God reaches down and breaks into our normal little lives… He did that with me with a child’s story “Harold and the Purple Crayon” once and I cried like a baby :)
Jenny recently posted..Scavenger Hunt Sunday | Lingering over Autumn
Words like these, dear Kelly, are why I imagined you to be so much older. You possess such depth of wisdom, beauty, and grace. Thanks so much for your grace to me this weekend. (Kermit did me in also)
Nancy recently posted..A Harvest of Words
Beautiful… glad I clicked over from Robyn’s blog.
[...] Kermit [...]
I bought the recording of his lecture because there were so many little quotations and things packed into it, I couldn’t keep up, scribbling it all down.
But I have this feeling he ended at an unexpected place in that song. I think it was on this line:
I’ve heard it too many times to ignore it -
There’s something that I’m supposed to be
He stopped, with those last words hanging there, and walked away.
I think I felt a collective intake of breath, a little gasp.
There’s something that we’re supposed to be.
Ann Kroeker recently posted..Curiosity Journal: Oct. 5, 2011
[...] Laity Lodge: The Other Side [...]
And reading your words here stirred something in me and made me cry. Using your passions to worship Him, nothing forced, nothing false, that speaks to me. Powerful realization.
Southern Gal recently posted..Questions
I had hoped you would write about this moment! Glad to know a little of what was going on. I knew it was good, that it was God.
Megan Willome recently posted..Hey Diddle Diddle
[...] wish to cry, but there are some things that are guaranteed to put me in tears. Things like Kermit the Frog, or a trip to the ice skating rink with Pip to see Disney on Ice (you should have SEEN her [...]
[...] couldn’t explain missed sessions or why I was so embarrassed to be crying uncontrollably over a resounding “yes” from God. I didn’t want to share my [...]
[...] morning session followed me, and the quiet resolutions I’d made on the plane, a simple a Capella rendition of The Rainbow Connection. And laughter. Her laughter, the feel of her hands beneath my own, the Christmas lights surrounding [...]