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I have now seen the One who sees me. Genesis 16:13 NIV
I remember the day in Orlando when I knew God must exist. I was one of the privileged singers at Elyria High School who got to travel and perform at Disney World. The trip was little work and much playtime. Of the seven days at Disney, one day was spent performing, which, when I think about it, doesn't resemble work in the least. Singing in matching black velvet gowns to strangers is exhilarating if the performance is good.
I'm sure God had followed me every day up until that third day of our trip, from womb to adolescence, perhaps just planning the moments that would lead to my discovery of His beauty. I wonder sometimes if we live so often in clouds of worry or fear, frustration, or self-absorption that we can't even see the striking beauty in life around us.
I think God knew me well enough to know that I had to be taken by surprise, to be catapulted into an experience of his splendor. As a girlfriend and I walked through Disney's Epcot Center exploring aimlessly, we came upon a sign for Blast! To our amazement, no tickets were needed, and the show was starting within minutes of our arrival. We placed ourselves toward the outside aisle in curved rows under the sky. Not knowing what to expect from the performance, we sat merely delighted to have accidentally arrived in time for the show.
As the music began, I immediately realized we were among the best-of-the-best in their field, virtuosos of each type of instrument. Being a dancing enthusiastic, as well as a mover and a shaker in normal every day life, I was captivated by how mobile the players were. They seemed to dance their songs on their instruments, not just through the music, but through their movements.
The performers seemed to gracefully waltz toward us down each aisle until the sound and movement completely encircled us. The purity of the notes were unlike any music I had ever heard; it was as if angels were holding and perfecting the notes and sending them to heaven. And we were witnessing this splendor.
As the show ended, I felt as though I were in shock. I don't recall speaking to anyone, but just walking. My girlfriend had the idea to speed walk across the street to catch a next singing performance that started almost immediately following the show, and so we did. I couldn't tell you if I had to dodge people on my way, or even if I was breathing as I followed her lead.
We sat down on a cold marble floor and waited again to be entertained, but I couldn't look at her, couldn't speak, couldn’t even allude to why. As the new singers came to stand in the middle of our circle and delight us with more music, I leapt up and ran out the door.
I ran down the stairs and to the middle of the stone ledge that surrounded a fountain, half-way from the street to the building where my friend remained, probably baffled. Sitting on the stone, with people whizzing around me going to various entertaining attractions, I began to sob. I could barely see anything, and couldn't tell if people were staring or hearing me cry. Brief glimmers of thought would touch my mind every so often with the wonder, "They must think something awful happened," or "They must think I am so sad."
In reality, I had never experienced pure beauty that made me weep to the depths of me before. A beauty like the first rain on earth, or the first blue whale that surfaced in the saltwater of dawn. It healed me in ways I didn't even understand.
After my sobbing ceased, I sat there by the fountain with damp cheeks and watery, freshened eyes, changed. People were still passing, the sun was the same as it was before I cried, but I knew where I was. And God saw me.
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