We had our Christmas party last week--"We" being the residents and staff who live and work in the place I call home. I am not much for parties. Introvert that I am, I prefer being alone. But my power chair had been broken for six weeks (I would have written about that, but it was basically a repeat of the "My chair needs a new battery" post I wrote not long enough ago, and "ditto" doesn't count as writing). Life in my manual chair was less than fun. Even I was tired of sitting in my apartment. I went to the party.
Someone had hired a band for the occasion--a perfectly decent band I suppose, but in a space as small as our dining hall, their amplifiers and mics turned the music into a wall of sound--a wall I felt like I had just crashed into. Conversation was impossible. A friend pushed me to a table. It was sprinkled with candy--Hershey's kisses, mints, chocolate Santas. Miraculously, I didn't want any. The band played; I twiddled my thumbs, literally. I'll stay for thirty minutes, I promised no one in particular. Then I looked up, and saw Sasha.
She was dancing. I mean really dancing. She moved like Elvis. I swear each hip wiggled independently. I stared at her. I broke into a smile. I think I actually laughed. Almost involuntarily, my hand began to tap on the arm of my chair. I was keeping time with the music, which had apparently stopped being a wall. Speaking of Elvis, Santa could dance too! The head of our maintenance department, whose name really is Elvis, was Santa this year, and he and Sasha made quite a pair! I looked around the room. People got out of their chairs and joined the dance. Our executive director was taking pictures. She and the rest of the staff were laughing with each other, and with us. This was worth coming for, I thought, and this is God.
The pure, unadulterated joy; the energy that moved through the room, that moved my hand to tap and my lips into a smile--that is the God my religion sings of, who delights in surprising us, who loves to show up in unexpected places, like mangers and dining halls, and even grumpy people who don't like parties. In life's best moments, that God fills us to the brim with his--or her--exuberance, extravagance, and generosity, which then spills out as loud music, joyous dancing, and occasionally, a run-on sentence or two!
May your new year and mine be filled with that God.
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