there's something in the water.

(As I write this, I'm listening to this. So if you want to read with the soundtrack in my head, join along.)

When I get that nagging feeling that all is lost, I remember that isn't possible. All is never lost. Not ever.

God completes. Always. I want you to know this. 
He is not making final sentences and washing his hands of us. 

He has not left your broken circles and burned bridges in the pile of "deal with later." Instead, He takes the broken pieces and eventually,
somehow,
someday
He makes all things new.

Maybe not for you to see. Or experience.
Maybe it will be after we're gone from this earth.
Or
just maybe
here
now
even when you least expect it. 

On riverbeds. On white porches. In the simple graze of a hand along a set of 88 piano keys. The slow hum of a cello billows in the room and suddenly I realize stories are made complete. I lay awake in bed wondering what chapters I've just finished, which ones I've started, and why I'm having such a hard time telling the difference.

It might not be what you want, or how you hoped things would be redeemed. But God isn't redeeming to make your life better. He's redeeming for the sake of Himself. He's the hero. Not us. The idea isn't a sigh of relief from our prone-to-strive souls, though sometimes it does just the trick. The idea is to see Him clearly. Involved. Writing. Finishing. Redeeming. Completing.

So even you can step back and say,
it's Him,
and all Him,
and only Him. 

The question comes at me like a fire. They hand it to me like a sparkler in my hand.

"What's next?"

The sense that what has happened is passing hits me like a deluge. I'm so used to making amends. So familiar with being in the fix.

Until I look back and see He is redeeming.

My brother says at breakfast,
"Babe Ruth once said 'Yesterdays home runs don't win today's game.'
but I added to it," my brother's eyes glimmer. Is that hope and joy I see?
He continues..."Yesterday's strike outs don't lose today's game either."

"I've got halos made of summer, rhythms made of spring..."