Dusk is such a surreal, lyrical time to be outside. It’s like a song that gets you, and grips you, and you don’t ever want it to stop. Tonight, I stood in the fading light of dusk gazing at the distant blue-grey mountains as they melted into the darkening sky. The absolutely delicious breeze of that wide open space brushed across my face, and I was barely able to move. I wanted to own it—the mountains, the dusk, the breeze—to make them mine, to build my house right there and never have to leave. The song of the dusk held me as long as I dared let it. Then I smiled and turned back on the path.

We left the trails and headed to the monthly worship night. I have a lot of sensitivity issues, so I came with my ear plugs tucked in my pocket, but a song much like the song of the dusk met me at the door. The musicians were lifting their voices quietly to the background of cello, acoustic guitar, and soothing keyboard. Each stroke of bow on the cello was like a step further into God’s presence. And suddenly, without trying, the blue-grey mountains appeared across the canvas of my mind’s eye, an extension of the song of the dusk. My God will bring the memory of this night to me for many days to come.

The Lord comes to us in many otherfleeting joys and lingering longings. Such as my young friend, whose team won the state volleyball championship. I saw their gasps at the play that secured them the lead. The teammates shouted and rushed together to embrace their fellow victors. Their awestruck faces filled with laughter and tears. The moment of a lifetime, but still a moment that could not last forever. If only they could stay in that moment. Each athlete will see  that moment in their own unique way for days and years to come. Some will breeze through life, bringing the memory to mind now and then, only to laugh exuberantly, and go on to the next step. But others will linger with the twinge, even a deep ache, at the impossibility of living in that perfect moment.

Our joys and our aching, whether sweet or painful, tell us something deeper about ourselves, the world we live in, and the God who made us. Often a feeling or a moment is beyond being defined, and that’s not bad, it’s a gift. It is God offering us the gift of his friendship. The best of friends don’t have to explain everything to one another. They can simply sit, or run with one another, sometimes listening, sometimes silent, but always knowing that whatever it is they are in it together. Like the song of the dusk, their friendship and God’s friendship can’t be explained, but is something we want to hold on to forever.