An interlude with God

“a short period of time when… something else happens,”

“a musical composition inserted between the parts of…a drama“

Last week, I wrote about taking an interlude from grief.  On Friday, I decided that I wanted to get dressed up, including jewelry but my necklaces were all tarnished…since I haven’t exactly been getting dressed up much lately.  So, sighing, I put on my everyday necklace, the “come so alive” lyrics necklace…the one that started it all, this foolish idea to write a blog.

Cody and I then hopped in the car to drive to school. The CD player is always on in my car, so as soon as I started the engine, the music also started – started playing the song whose lyrics were written on the necklace I had just grumpily put around my neck!

I had excitedly wondered that morning what my joy bomb would be, after a week of paying attention to them.  Was it the male and female gold finch eating together at the feeder while we ate our breakfast?  Maybe it was hearing that song after very consciously putting on the necklace. If not that, when would it happen?  Would He make me wait all day? (Because I kind of have a deadline here, God, on posting my blog.)

After dropping Cody off at school, I had to pick Chuck up from cardiac rehab.  I called up my Spotify playlist called “Fight Songs” to have driving music with attitude and selected “Til The Day I Die” by TobyMac.  And started to cry.

Blood, sweat, tears
It’s a callin’
And if I can’t walk, then I’m crawlin’
It might flicker but they can’t kill the flame

TobyMac, “Til The Day I Die“

Boy, am I crawlin’ right now.  Can you relate?  And, right then, I knew that that song was my joy bomb for the day, by 9:00 a.m.  While my joy bomb didn’t exactly bring me a burst of joy, it did remind me of God.  Even when I’m crawling, when the flame is flickering, He’s always there.

The grief didn’t go away last week.  Turns out you can’t actually take an interlude from grief.  It’s not like pulling a muscle and taking a break from the gym.  It’s always there. 

At some point last week, Chuck and I sat on a bench at the beach after one of his various rehab appointments, each in our own thoughts but all of our thoughts on this place we have found ourselves.  And one of my thoughts was

“I have no power
I have no control
I can’t sing my way out of my circumstances”

Looking for the good didn’t negate the bad.  Listening to music that changes my mind through the release of “happy chemicals” doesn’t change my circumstances.  Yet, again, I was reminded that it’s not about hoping our circumstance changes but looking for God in the circumstance that doesn’t change. 

Instead of a whole week off from grief, my interludes were 15 minutes sitting on the beach, the 3 minutes and 48 seconds of the song that I sang.  It was the 30 seconds I enjoyed watching the newly arrived oriole eat grape jelly at our backyard feeder.  It was hearing Cody singing, “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!” at his last elementary school choir program.  (Quick aside, did you know that Word can actually spell check supercalifragilisticexpialidocious…thankfully.)

The joy bomb that reminded me of God?  That’s how God showed up in the grief.  No, actually it was that I finally I paid attention to how God was there – because He’s always there.  Here.  With me.  And my only true interlude from grief is in taking an interlude with God.