We were strolling down the main path of Hyde Park, chatting about the trees and bagpipes, when she exclaimed "I love this guy!"
Startled, I looked around, not sure whom she was talking about. Then I saw him too.
He stood on the path holding a loop of string attached to two sticks. He dipped the string in a bucket and pulled it up. Moving with ease and confidence, he stretched open the string, using the sticks. The wind caught the liquid suspended in the loop and blew it out. It formed a bubble, a translucent sheet of dancing colour.
He moved to place this broad billowing sheet over the head of a young boy who whimpered and pressed closer to the woman beside him. She and the man chuckled and the man re-dipped the string in the bucket.
Again, a billowing tunnel of colour formed in the air. He took it over to a young girl who stuck her head into it, giggling the way only a child can. Her siblings, who stood beside her, giggled too.
Then the man grasped who looked almost like a solid plastic net out of a shallow bowl and twirled it through the air.
Hundreds of paper thin spheres of colour came bursting out. Caught by the wind, they danced along merrily as a little boy laughed and chased them, hands outstretched to catch them.
Soon, we moved away, having laughed and been delighted. I murmured to my friend, feeling a deep contentment, "that'll be appearing on my blog". She asked why and I answered.
It's sometimes, always, the simple things in life that bring us the most joy. So often, we over-complicate life, we look for joy in the complex things. And yet... it's the simple things - bubbles on the wind in the park, the laugh of a child, an avenue of trees - that bring us the sweetest moments of joy. That curve our lips in the softest of smiles and bring a glow to our eyes.
She smiled her agreement "and the surprising things, the unexpected things."
I nodded and we continued on our walk, chatting easily until we reached our destination.
The moment we stepped through the door a hush descended. Not an awkward hush, not even a companionable hush, but a reverent hush.
The towering ceiling supported by carved dark wood rafters, sandstone walls that glowed in the yellow sunlight, stain glass windows with familiar scenes - the maji, the babe and other storie s from the incredible life of that one pure man who lived and died 2000 and years ago, and who continues to live today.
We sat, two young woman who love the Lord, on the pews of that cathedral, our eyes caught up by the beauty of the building and our minds and hearts wondering at, worshipping, the glory and graciousness of the God the building was built to glorify.
The silence was not suffocating, it was releasing. We sat, our own thoughts wondering, occasionally whispering to each other, sharing some thought to ponder.
How incredible is our God, we both agreed.
And even after we'd left the building, it took a few minutes for the us to stop whispering and speak in normal voices. We strolled around the city, sipping cool drinks and trying not to feel the heat. We chatted, mostly theology, sometimes life, until I boarded my train.
We hugged good-bye and I couldn't help but think how grateful I am. How thank I am for the simple and unexpected, and, at that moment, most of all, the friend who was vanishing up the steps to her own platform.
An, as I sat down and started to write, I realized writing was no longer a struggle. I wasn't feeling like I had to rack my brains in search of a thanksgiving point to write on.
God's grace had, once again, found me, through no work of my own, and had left me silenced, but brimming with joy and thanksgiving.
And the words, they almost wrote themselves.
Thank you, Father. My heart needed this little gift of yours!
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