God in art.

I have friends all over the world.  Almost all of them have moved (away from me) within the last 6 months.  Not everyone has moved and not everyone that has moved, left recently, but sometimes it feels like it.  The past couple weeks I have especially missed them.  We've passed the three-week mark of the last two leaving, and that's sort of the amount of time it takes for it to feel real, to realize they aren't coming back soon.  It's not just a vacation or a trip; they are in this for the long haul.

My friend, Jack, is a potter.  Last year, he had a beautiful senior showcase with a table and chairs and tea and shelves of ceramic cups and mugs that he made.  And he tied it all to the church.  I won't get into the details about it all, but, believe me, it was beautiful and lovely and Good.  One aspect was the set of cups.  The art was not just one cup--although, it could have been--the art was the set of cups together.  This is like the church.  But that's not what I'm thinking about tonight.  Tonight I sit with a cup of tea held to my chest and it's like I can feel them, my friends, sitting with me.  They aren't, but I sit and I sip and I remember and I pray.  Oh, God, I miss them.  Maybe somewhere in Romania or Thailand or Spain or California or wherever they may be, my friends are sitting with a cup of tea, too.  Jack's cups are no longer together on the shelves; they are literally around the world.  And that's the church, too.  His senior showcase has long been taken down, but in my head and my heart, these cups represent Jack and Kelly and Nicole and Kadilyn and Virginia and Sarah and me and everyone else: once, we were together, but now we are not; the church comes together and the church is sent out.  And until I see them again, I am thankful for and bear witness to what God is doing in my heart, in my corner of the world, and on the other side of the world.