Vitamin Renew

Our fireplace room has been a stark white since we moved to this house. And not just stark white. Stark white made even stark-er by the presence of dark beams across the ceiling and a dark wood floor down below. The contrast has not been beautiful, but we have managed - managed, that is, until tonight.

Today, the most velvety of green paints made its way into our home. Today, against all common sense, we cracked open the can and began our endeavor. Today, amidst a towering list of Things to Do and in my own personal process of Dealing With Angst, we set out to beautify this most univiting of rooms.

The job began in silence. In the process of Dealing With Angst, I have begun to learn the valuable lesson of keeping my mouth decidedly closed. Thus, we painted away in what would have otherwise been a companiable quiet - but what, in my mind anyway, was a seething opportunity for more Angst. Wordless woes pressed upon me. Meaningless anger filled my thoughts. What on earth could be bothering me? Where on earth was my Peace? I could pinpoint my frustration to my lack of time or focus to do the things that matter most to me - keep my spiritual and physical self fit -and to a lack of 'hearing from God' in the past several days. I'm sure the lack of time to listen and the lack of words from God were intrinsically connected, but that didn't cross my mind at the time. I simply felt angry - alone - un spoken-to - and pitiful.

In reality, this Angst-imposed silence was the first long stretch of 'nothing' that I'd encountered in quite a while. The wordlessness of the moments began to soothe me. I fell into a rythm with my paintbrush, resenting my husband's suggestion to take even a five-minute break. This was my groove, after all! My neck ached. My hands cramped. But still, I painted on. And afer a while, the silence began to fill up with words.

No, not my words. Not (at first) even the direct words of God to my heart. But my husband turned on the music, and while we painted, song after random Christian song filled our slowly-transforming space. The station - one that plays all Christian songs without discrimination based on quality or chronological appropriateness - produced several giggles at the road over which Christian muscians have traveled. A few lounge-type songs made us guffaw. Sevearl painful synthesizer-laden ballads made us cringe. But through it all - through the cheesy lyrics, and also the ones that spoke straight to my heart, I sensed a kind of camraderie. These musicians - silly or oudated though they may be - had poured out their souls in order to express a passion we both shared. I began to take note of their words, forvgiving most (not quite all) of their poor musical choices. And as I listened - listened, mind you, rather than griped about my own sorry state - my ears began to hear the voice of my God.

We painted on. The room slowly transformed into a moss-green oasis of comfort. And in my own heart, a similar metamorphosis took shape as well.

I felt whole again - or at least sane again. God had not forgotten me. Though I had been unable to stop and listen for so long thta I should have at least had His finger shaking in my face, I got instead a gentle and multi-voiced reminder of His unfading love for my soul.

I felt renewed. I felt at peace. Yes, I felt tired as well, and still just as anxious for things to slow down. But I knew that if this ugly room could transform in one evening, God surely had similar plans for my heart. I stopped working for the night while the music still played - hoping to spend some time making a little music of my own before falling asleep. It might be cheesy, just like what I had heard through the evening, but I didn't care. It would surely come from a heart set afire with the same love these songwriters shared - a heart transformed just as wholly by grace. No, not all of my Angst had dissipated, but I had set aside my own worry long enough to listen to the joy of others - and that had renewed me more than an evening of grumbling ever could have.