SEEING THINGS
Sometimes when my eyes are closed, I see sounds. Not hear them. But see them. The closing of a door, or footsteps down the hall become jagged little mountains of pure light, appearing in the darkness behind my eyelids then disappearing in an instant. Still, they were there. And that seeing changes everything.
We take a right and drive down what appears to be a warehouse district, a well-traveled road lined with industrial buildings layered atop the railroad tracks.
I’m reminded of the seemingly neglected buildings of some of the most fabulous cities of the world—on the outside, peeling paint, chipped windows, sometimes graffiti here and there. But inside, something altogether remarkable… is waiting.
I brace myself as we enter the warehouse we've come to see thinking how unlike the typical wedding venues this unassuming structure is.
But our entourage is anything but typical and so I enter in with an open mind.
What we see, what we are trained to see, is someone else’s vision of what is appropriate or attractive about nearly every given thing. The expectation we bring to what is set before us, in so many ways, distorts the view.
In this case, that “thing" on our hearts and minds is the union of two people who have waited for what seems like a lifetime to find one another and are in no hurry to do this [their wedding], someone else’s way.
If we miss the magic of this moment, we will see what surrounds us as utilitarian, aged, perhaps even unremarkable, or mundane. Yet this building, focused on the business of storing and distributing food, knows a little something about sustenance. Something it can teach us about the rarity of valuing the long view.
This place, in all its layers of rich patina inhabits the authentic, well-worn beauty of real life.
In every imperfection—in every split in the rough-hewn beams, the marked and etched timbered floors, the bruised and rusted steel—
I see generations of hard work pressed down,
a dedication to building something worth the cost,
layers of paint, blended together, making unexpectedly breathtaking hues,
and an ageless beauty that unfolds with time and commitment through the years.
Embedded in this place that was formed from unfussy, practical hands, is an unintended extravagance—the hard-etched and fortified embodiment of endurance.
Love, the finding it and living it out is, if anything, a lesson of holding on and holding tight, until what is learned is that love is more glorious [through every trial and blessing] when it leaves its mark.
I stand in the center of the room, wedged between roll up doors and concrete floors and I listen. This is the place where a lifetime of joy will be consecrated and blessed. I close my eyes, and I can hear and see the laughter all at once...like little bolts of lightening.
NOTES:Synesthesia. Do you ever hear music but see shapes? This is the phenomenon of our humanity, the blending of our senses so that one is experienced in another.This week, every part of me is immersed in what I'm made for, that is, bringing a little Heaven to Earth, embodying the essence of person in place, for a family I deeply love.Recently, I caught myself wondering what is ahead for me in this unexpected and unusual season of my life.This is the answer—Offering up what I do and who I am, in this moment, without worrying about the next…and the next.I have written often about how the extraordinary life we long for isn’t somewhere “out there” but embedded in each seemingly insignificant step. Beginnings become endings. And then the opposite becomes true.There is nothing like a wedding to inspire us to be hopeful, even transcendent in what we do.Thank you, Jenell and Ryan, for reminding me to see the world the way the bride sees her groom.