stainglass

This morning as I entered Independent Presbyterian Church with Sam and Charlie, I gasped. I have never felt the presence of the Lord that strongly before. Let me back up, I read somewhere recently that one can experience God through all five senses. That God can not only be heard and seen, he can be tasted and smelled and touched. I love that. It allows me to allow God to be bigger. Perhaps if God created all things, then he is in all things, and can be experienced in things that we never imagined possible. It helps me look for God. I think God is in the beauty of this fall weather. I think he's in the hot tea I savor each morning. He's in the faces of my nephews. He's the presence in my soul that holds me fast.
So, this morning. I walked into a sanctuary filled with sunlight streaming through the stainglass windows and music pouring out of the organ. I felt as though I'd walked into the Lord's kitchen because my immediate feeling was that I was home, yet at such a sacred place that it would not have been bizarre to remove my heels. Something about the beauty of the day and Sam's crazy hair and the multitude of light and music, I could see God everywhere. And strangely, it produced such an ache, a sadness, that my eyes welled up with tears. Have you ever witnessed such beauty, such love and emotion, that it hurts? Produces a certain crazy sadness that is even when it seems that it shouldn't be? Surprised by joy. Surprised by sadness.