“When I was a little girl, I dreamed that I could touch God,” she says in a soft voice.
We’re in a room at the Carol Joy Hollings Center, at the Jumping Tandem Retreat, and I’m leading a workshop on giving birth to our dreams. I’ve challenged the women to gather in groups and answer questions, one of which is, “What was your dream as a child?”
“I would swing,” she says to me. “I would swing so high and try to touch the sky, because I thought if I touched the sky, I could maybe touch God.”
She leans in. Her brown hair wavy and her eyes bright. “And I would sing. I would sing long and loud, hoping that maybe, if I sang enough, he might hear me.”
I couldn’t speak.
When do we stop trying to touch God? Trying to get him to hear us? Believing that if we wanted, we could do the impossible?
And I remembered how, earlier that weekend, I had been standing in worship, my hands outstretched as Jaime, the man in the cap with the earrings, strummed his guitar and we sang Holy, Holy, Holy. And I closed my eyes as I stretched my hands to the ceiling and I’ve never stretched my arms so high.
And suddenly, with my eyes closed, I saw him.
My Abba Father, reaching down from heaven, trying to grasp my hand.
His face, so eager.
And for a brief moment, the chasm between humanity and the divine didn’t seem so wide.
Let’s never stop trying to touch God.
Let’s keep swinging in the hopes of reaching heaven.
And let’s keep singing in the hopes that one day, the heavens will open and erupt in angelic chorus.
Your kingdom come, oh Lord. Amen.
(Some fun photos from the retreat below)
|Laura Boggess and I feeling windswept|
|My dear friends Jennifer Lee, Laura Boggess and I|
|Lisa-Jo’s keynote and Seth Haines’ video challenge|
|Me, speaking in one of my two sessions|
|Praying with Amanda Hill.|