So I’m at the church listed on the flyer, but right as the Christian rock band really gets going, a sudden storm hits, and the lights go out. Everyone gasps and sort of despairs. Hail thunders down. The noise sounds as impossible as the likelihood that I’m actually here. But something about the woman’s smile, the way her eyes spoke, pulled me. Like I manifested her when I needed her. She reveals an acoustic guitar amid the chaos. The woman prays loudly in a sing-song voice while she strums. She sings so loud I’m able to hear her over the torrent. She gives thanks for shelter from the rain, the ability to play through the storm. She asks that the Holy Spirit meet us here. At this exact moment, the power snaps back on. Everyone rejoices. Amen! Glory be! Hallelujah! The woman smiles, and her eyes look out at us in that lightning way that convinced me to show up. The divine love of the Lord come down in the form of human fellowship. I feel like I’m getting closer.
They continue to praise God while they fire up their electric guitars, bass guitars, electronic keyboards, and synthesizers, laughing in faith and certainty. So much certainty. I am moved. I’m on the precipice of everything important. I could, no, I should, pray. Ask not to be sick. Ask for my abusive husband to get sober. Pray that the next treatment works. Ask for the same light that shines out from those peaceful faces to also alight within me. Before they begin to sing again, they say we’ll break for lunch shortly, there’s plenty of delicious food, so stick around! They exclaim affirmations that God won’t let the storm keep them from performing their service. The certainty! I can almost feel His presence. Then I think about storms. The recent storm that fed The Guadalupe, all those little girls at sleepaway camp drowned, only hours from here. About troops storming everywhere they’re storming. The children starving there. The people starving everywhere. The tiny, dusted face of a child revealed as his mother removes a small slab of concrete from the rubble. How can I possibly ask for anything? I feel ashamed for wanting to ask. I unclasp my hands.
