It wasn’t like I’d walked completely out of the building and down the street.
But I did excuse myself and slip off to the restroom to stare at myself in the mirror.
For longer than I should have, longer than was reasonable.

Rounding the corner, my eyes scanned the room…
Expecting the seat to be empty.
But it was not.
It.
was.
not.

I gently slid into my seat and looked into the face of God -
The one I knew with my heart would wait for me,
But the one I’d let my mind convince me would be gone.
Tears prickled in my eyes, but instead of obstructing my view, it seemed to make things clearer.
And more brilliant, as if the skies had burst wide open and rained stars into the room.
I was here.  And God was here.
And it was quiet.

There were no cheers or loud rejoicing as we eased back into the conversations I’d so hastily put on hold.
There was no pat on the back or ‘attagirl’s.
God knew that those scare me off.
I would blush an unflattering blush…
And feel even more self-conscious than I already did.

And it was here, in this perfect quiet moment…that I saw bits of my life all at once.
Here I was, my 32-year-old self, but I was lying in my grandmother’s lap
with her gnarled, rheumatic fingers dancing on my skin.
I was nine, but I found myself sitting on the edge of my bed in my college apartment, quickly typing messages to a new love.
And I was 25, and though – in this chronos time of mine, of ours – I should have been cradling a newborn,
I was sitting in my chair, reading a book and glancing at my own now-gnarled and rheumatic fingers.
I notice a strand of stray hair fallen into my eye.
It was no longer shiny auburn, but shimmering silver in the sunlight.

For a moment, for this one moment, I had a glimpse of this kairos time that is beyond my comprehension,
This God-time that I can’t even begin to grasp.
It was here, suspended in this God-moment, that the words
“And it was good”
flipped from words on a page to writing on my heart.

As quickly as the moment began, the dream ended.
The bubble burst.
And I was just plain old me again.
Except I wasn’t.
I was changed.
And it was good.

**Linking up with Heather‘s Just Write.
There are so many beautiful words there.
Take time to click and read.