Being Here

I am winded.

The robust choreography of the now-famous-here-at-least children’s song “Your Everlasting Love” will do that. Three jumps left and clap. Three jumps right and clap. Love that’s higher than the sky with arms up and wide, deeper than the see with arms down and side to side, and reaching out to me, with arms forward and back again. Then the jumps. And it keeps going.

And I’m doing it.

As little as 12 days ago, I could not possibly have imagined even being here, let alone leading us in Your Everlasting Love. And the thing is, it is. God’s love. It’s higher and deeper and reaching out in ways more than I ever could possibly deserve.

Yet here I am.

Those winded moments are not lost on me. None of it is. Not one gentle wai as they file in for morning worship. Not one glimmer of understanding when the English word patterns suddenly make sense. Not one head back laugh when a joke hits home. Not one moment of sweet heaven in the harmonies of our singing.

Because, here I am.

I do not know how long God will grant me the physical and mental capacities to continue this love-work ‘on the ground.’ It’s demanding travel, and jet lag is no respecter of age and quite the bear, truth be told. The climate is a thing too, and it’s only now, here in the middle of the month that it’s cooled down enough to not be a sweaty distraction. And even though I’ve done it often enough, and do my best to stay fit so I can jump-jump-jump-clap, the reality is that as my body adds years to its resume all of it takes its toll.

And yet, here I am.

Taking nothing for granted.

Because back in October there were some nights of pain that threatened this. Long nights that provide those deeper opportunities to press into faith and surrender. I was ready not to come if that’s what He wanted. I was.

But, here I am.

Winded.

Taking nothing for granted.

Ever.