Sweat stains. Electronic keyboards playing CHORD CHORD CHORD CHORD on & on. Loud birds. Splashes of colorful skirts & long scarves flying along behind. Sweet voices chattering. Bare feet slapping & slipping on the tile floors. A tin cup of hot milky chai tea. Guitars strumming. Pans banging. Fans whirring constantly.
The power goes out & everything goes silent in an exhausted woosh.
Then the sound of guitar chords fades back in & the girls resume their silly giggles. More sweat stains.
And this is paradise.
Sometimes you just don’t know what paradise is until you come face to face with it. SMACK. The reality of it can sting, a little bit. But it just makes you want to sit & soak. Soak in every moment, every beautiful face, every small conversation.
Because although the days are long, the time is short.
Because although your body is tired, your spirit is more alive than ever.
Because not one of us is perfect, but each one of us is meant to be here.
One month with 22 Indian women who love to worship their Maker. We’re already three weeks into it. And we have bad attitudes & bad hair days. We get heat exhaustion & headaches & stomachaches. We are princesses, class clowns, wallflowers & everyone in between. But the truth is, although Madhu, Kristin & I are training worship leaders as best we can – the girls really aren’t the only ones learning.
My girls appreciate little things, like a new song, sung slightly off key, ending with a flourish & a huge smile of satisfaction. They take notes in class like madwomen, hanging on our every word, saturating themselves in music theory & ear training & Bible. Their tenacious instrument practice would inspire an accomplished musician. And they serve. They serve each one as if she is the only special person in the world.
I fell down the stairs & smashed my elbow. And it hurt. I cried a lot. They cried too! And they took care of me with determined, fierce compassion. And now my girls gently remind me, “Sister, go slowly.”
And then worship. Every day – beautiful, intimate, raw moments with the One who loves us most. We sing & shout until our voices are gone, we dance in spontaneous moments of joy, we whisper in reverent, hushed tones. We listen for His voice.
And God is there.
Paradise.
