At a loss for words . . .and melody

I got tickled yesterday. Not the kind of tickled that is applied to a sensitive area of the body. The kind of tickled that comes from being out of control. Not the kind of out of control that comes from too much alcohol or other substance, but the kind of out of control that comes from your actions outpacing your thoughts.

It wasn't a big deal. No one was hurt. In fact I doubt that you will understand this at all. I had been playing a guitar and leading others in singing for a couple of days at Camp Sumatanga, with a break for a funeral thrown in the middle of the weekend. But I was in control. The words and chords to bout a million songs at Sumatanga came easily. The old familiar hymns I sang at the funeral remained familiar, but I did notice it was a little harder to remember the words. Then it was back to Sumatanga for another million songs.

But the thing I didn't do so well for the first forty eight hours or so was sleep. All of that keeping under control combined with really good coffee late in the days kept sleep away until shortly before it was time to rise and shine once again. More coffee and I was good to go.

But about the sixtieth hour I was singing along, strumming the guitar, singing an old familiar song, and my mind just went completely blank, like the white screen that appears on my cell phone sometimes when it just doesn't want to work anymore.

I couldn't remember the melody to the song, so the thought of the right chords was hopeless. The words that came out were to a completely different song. When you are all alone and this happens, it is no big deal. When you are leading seventy or eighty folks who are spiritually pumped, it is still not a big deal, but it is a bit hard to hide the fact that your brain has suddenly ceased to function, that you are out of control.

Weirdly, it was a good feeling, not being in control all of a sudden. I started laughing at myself, and then I noticed the looks of the people who were laughing at, or with me, it doesn't really matter. Fortunately my fellow song leaders were not out of control and kept right on playing and singing despite the loss of the right engine. I never did get back on track with that song. I just laughed at myself until I cried. It felt good. It appeared that it was entertaining for those in my immediate area as well. One told me it was one of her favorite moments of the week-end.

Sumatanga is a "thin place" for me. A place where the veil between the world we live in and the spiritual realm is very thin. A place where the glass we look through is not quite so darkly.

And so God reminded me, in the laughter of losing control, that I never was really in control anyway. And that's okay.

I feel better, so much better. Glory Hallelujah.

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