Music.

I can't even.

Last night I went to the Amy Grant concert. Accompanying her musicians? The Vancouver Symphony Orchestra.

It was amazingly awesome and tear inducing and over-the-top fabulous and I love watching people do their thing with excellence and joy. And there was much excellence and much joy on the stage last night. Oh yessiree bob.

And the sound. SO rich and full and perfect. Especially during Sing Your Praise and My Word. Oy.

But it wasn't just the incredible life-giving sound that seeped into my soul, it was the lyrics of Amy's songs:

"Better Than A Hallelujah"

God loves a lullaby
In a mother's tears in the dead of night
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes

God loves the drunkard's cry
The soldier's plea not to let him die
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

The woman holding on for life
The dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes

The tears of shame for what's been done
The silence when the words won't come
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

So good. 

We? Pour out our miseries. God? Just hears a melody. Beautiful - this mess we are. The honest cries of breaking hearts? To Him? Are better than a Hallelujah. 

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But it was more than that even.

It was Amy herself.

She and I are the same(ish) age. We got married, had babies and got divorced at the same(ish) time. Her songs were written during the various seasons of her life, and were born from moments of pain and joy and growth and longing and shame and fear... 

She speaks/sings for me. 

And probably for most women, to some degree, that were born in the 60's. She represents us. And she does it so well.

So, watching her on stage, totally at peace and in her element with that great big sound behind her, and her step-daughter and future grandson beside her ... I just teared up with joy for her.

It is a beautiful thing to watch someone do what they were called/equipped to do. Truly it is. 

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What's your thing?

Do it.

Do it well.

With a smile.

And enthusiasm.

And if you can manage, dance at the same time.

We are watching.
And we need to see people being exactly who God created them to be. 

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Three things I'm thankful for:

1. Youtube

2. Walk along the Fort to Fort Trail this evening:

3. Easter egg hunt at work today:

Shalom,

xo