almost thanksgiving

I have just finished the dishes and the rotini, and I should probably turn down Frank Sinatra a little. In an oddly riotous mood. Thanksgiving is nearly twenty-four hours away, and home almost as close - perhaps that has something to do with it. :) Or maybe I'm just starting to un-knit my eyebrows after an overwhelming, frightening, beautiful weekend. Oh, and the responsibility still turns heavy between my hands, but I'm regarding it objectively now. Maybe.

(This is the point where I insert a disclaimer - I'm assuming that anyone who still reads this blog kind of cares about me, and half-expected that I'd talk about myself. :D If you really just want to be entertained, try engrishfunny.com. The word nerd in me never fails to be amused.)

I have an opportunity to participate just a little in a crazy work God's doing in North Africa next May. I've known about it since October, and been completely gung-ho if a little intimidated by the preparation. Part of that preparation entailed attending the National Missionary Convention in Lexington last weekend. I expected the workshops; I'd heard of the keynote speakers. The exhibit hall was full of Bible colleges and campus ministries, including my own. It was good, and I learned and had thought-provoking conversations.

But...oh, how do I say this? I had never before sat in a stadium with four thousand people and listened to them sing Revelation Song, sing it as it will be sung around the throne, in a hundred different shades and accents from hearts that have been both emptied and filled. And I cannot comprehend the amount of other voices around the throne who will have been brought there by that four thousand. I was surrounded by people who were giving their lives for the words of that song. And was I?

A few hours later I found myself in a private debrief-and-praise meeting for everyone who had birthed or somehow touched the North African ministry. I felt like I'd been invited into a family reunion - no one actually recognized me, they just assumed I was a second cousin they'd never met. A few key people shared the events of the past year (and God really is doing some crazy things, things that haven't happened in other countries) along with prayer requests for the next. They thanked us all for our fervent prayers over the past eight years, blessed our faithfulness, fed our visionary dreams that have propelled all the impossibilities.

I did not stand up. I did not shout across the room that I struggle with focus, love, nerve, and a very lot of apathy. They do not know that I usually pray for about twenty minutes a day, most of which is in the shower. Or that I know all the correct phrases because I was raised in a good family, not because I have dogged them from the page on my own. I would sooner be comfortable than meet someone else's needs. And I love Jesus because He takes care of me, not for His incredible goodness and glory.

I did not leave, and I will stick with this and work for it, but...I am very much humbled by this weekend. Still thinking.

G'night, all...I'll be back on Thanksgiving.