austin...the paramount...damien...cold water

All the lights had faded to black. The band was playing their song. An irishman's raspy voice, the tones of an old guitar, and the presence of God filled the room. The girl behind me wept. A man sipped his Bacardi's Irish Cream, fully enjoying it and the musical experience. The obnoxious girl in front of me sang. She sang her heart out. I can't blame her because I too wanted to sing until I had no voice because both then and now all we've got is Your hand. But I let the darkness be my voice. It filled every corner of the theatre. The only light showing were the few exit signs. If only it were that easy. Exit here. Escape here. Return to normalcy. These days, even normal is different. What is normal?

The reprise had started: Lord...can you hear me....Lord...can you hear me now....Or am I lost? Who would have thought that two years, two short, wonderful years, after this experience we would all be screaming this in our minds, in our cars, in our rooms, in our sadness. Lord, can you hear me? Because of him--the one with the drink, the one fully enjoying the experience in that theatre--we would scream, we would cry, we would question. Who knew? Not me. Not you. Not You.

But there You were and here You are. Just as You were there for them in the desert. Just as You were there for him hanging on a tree. Suffering with us. Crying with us. You have always been. Sometimes leading and other times following. But always hearing. Now we see: cold...cold water surrounds us now. But all we've got is Your hand. Thank You. peace