She had told me she was singing a solo. A few days before the concert, she had mentioned it. Kind of an, 'Oh, by the way...' moment. The all-girls acapella group she's a part of was performing that night. So I knew that at some point, we would see her take the stage.
I really brushed it off to the side as normal. Because this girl singing, is rather typical. She has a voice that I could listen to for hours. So her mention of a solo didn't strike me as unusual. It's just what she does. Well, it's actually what her soul was created to do.
But, that night, the night of the concert, I was unprepared to hear her. From looking at the program, I knew her group was next. So logically, I watched for her to enter the stage. But no one came.
Instead, through the dark of the auditorium, from behind our seats, she broke the silence with her voice. I couldn't see her, but I could hear her. And the moment she started to sing, I knew it was her. No lights from the stage, no written acknowledgement on the program. Just her voice. I felt her. And I knew she was mine.
That moment of clarity has stayed with me for days.
It felt powerful. And it felt like home.
And I'm reminded of the reason we celebrate this month. Of the truth that rests as the foundation of all that we do. That beneath the lists, the stress, the buying and the rushing, there is joy that already surrounds us. There is peace when we take the time to hear.
And we have a Savior who knows our name. He sees us when we take the stage and also when we stand in the dark and raise our voice. At all times and at all cost, He hears us. Rather powerful and a whole lot like home.
In these last few days, the calm before the storm, I hope you take the time to Hear. Because joy is there. It may be buried deep, but it's there.
Listen to it.
And welcome home.