The rocks and stones themselves will start to sing

I have a lot to say and absolutely nothing to say, because I feel like everything I say is the same thing. One of the personality traits of mine that has remained rather constant over the years is my ability to obsess, and when you obsess over something everything you do is towards that obsession. Everything you encounter.

My lovely friend and incredible costume designer Barbara said, "Well, anytime I talk with you it's a theological conversation. Everything you DO is about that."

Truth.

I'm currently undergoing the huge amount of RELIEF that comes with the show closing. Not just that the show is closing, but that it's going to be a long time until my next show. I had a meeting with one of my teachers where I confessed that I realized I don't want a career as a director, and he stated the obvious and said, "You don't want a career." Which is true. I don't. And as long as I make enough money to live, I don't need a career. There is nothing about being human that states that a career is necessary. I will direct, in life. But not for a while now, and that feels wonderful.

The joy of being released from the stress of putting up a show (which I cite specifically because I loved Maker of Dreams and the people and the process, but I did NOT love the stress) and then plunging into Holy Week is magnificent. I went to church twice on my 21st birthday, for the morning service and for the Choral Evensong (selections from the Easter portion of Handel's Messiah). I have church again on Thursday, twice on Friday (Good Friday evening service and The Three Hours Devotion: The Seven Last Words of Christ from noon-3), again on Saturday, and Sunday is Easter. I am encountering the mythology of the Passion as I never have before, and it is thrilling. I don't really have words to speak it yet.

Except, except that I started crying, actually crying, in church on Sunday morning. It was during the Liturgy of the Palms and the first hymn. An image that I've known my entire life resonated so deeply. It's when Jesus is riding into Jerusalem, and the authorities tell him to get his disciples and the crowds (who are singing loud Hosannas and waving palm branches and throwing their robes on the ground for his donkey to walk on) to be quiet, and he says, "If they are silent, the stones will cry out."

To me, that is a vision of heaven. Or the Kingdom of God coming upon the earth. Where there is so much joy and love and praise that the world bursts with it. What could possibly be more beautiful?