They didn't really, but I would like to think that they did. It's the first time that I've liked my real name, Margaret, hearing it in their Hazards of Love performance yesterday. Sometimes when I'm at festivals with huge groups of people, staring up at the stars, sober as can be, I feel God most. Amidst all the craziness, he's there and he's maniacally dancing along with me. Even as I shove my way through the crowd, hand out Clementines, and laugh with my friend Matt, He's there.
For a long time, I've been having a hard time feeling like He is around. When I'm overwhelmed by kids crying and unable to write their name on a piece of paper, I don't know where He is in that. I don't know where He is in helping me to get all of my homework done. Or trying to get to counseling at twenty to six, only to realize that the MUNI downtown has been flooded and there's not a cab to be flagged down in sight.
But He's there, just not in the way that I think He is. He's there by surprising me with Papalote burritos at community group, when I was resisting going. Or when one of my fifth graders tells me that she is going to be Michael Jackson for Halloween and I can't keep it together by not laughing. He's there when I get told I'm pretty by a six-year-old because my eyes are like saucers.
He's in the community, the sermon about complaining, spending time with new and old friends at a music festival. The new Sufjan-sponsored Shannon Stephens album. Me planning my "Where the Wild Things Are" lesson tomorrow. In San Francisco, on 7th and Harrison. At French-American, on Oak and Franklin.
He's with me, as near as my next breath.
You're the greatest! Its so cool that you are knowing the Presence of God.
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