Friday, U2, and other musings

It's Friday morning, and I am wearing jeans at the office. I know I celebrate that every week, but it really is such a great treat. So nice to be really comfortable.

Plus, it's Friday morning. And I can't tell you how relieved I am to be nearly at the end of the work week right now. I have no idea what this weekend will hold (except that it has immense potential for challenging moments). But I'm thankful to be done (or nearly done) with the work portion of the week. I'm anticipating time spent doing some errands and other things tomorrow night. And time spent with Jesus.

A dear friend of mine sent me a photo text message last night that made me both incredibly happy and incredibly jealous all at once. It was an (albeit blurry) photo of the stage at the U2 concert she was in the midst of attending. I loved getting it, and totally wished I was there. If I had such a thing as a formal "bucket list" or a "things to do before I die list", seeing U2 play live would be near the very top of the list. It's one of the things I dream about, and it just hasn't been possible yet for me to make it to one of their concerts.

Inspired by her concert attendance, I listened to the very first U2 album I ever purchased as I drove to work this morning. "All That You Can't Leave Behind". I bought the album when I was in high school. I'd attended a Young Life city wide club where the speaker talked about peace and used the song "Peace on Earth" as an illustration. I don't remember much about the club talk, but I'll never forget the impact of hearing that song. I fell in love with a band because of that song, bought my first U2 album because of that song, and have bought quite a few other albums in successive years. But that first album is still probably my favorite, and I played it loud and sang along this morning as I drove.

Last night was rough again, hard and full of the darker moments. I remember waking at one point and saying aloud "You can't be here. I'm sheltered by Jesus. Go away." I've gotta tell you that I don't do that very often these days, though there were weeks and years where I probably needed to do that every night, but lacked the knowledge or courage to follow through.

Usually a night like that would leave me lagging. A night like that often left a deep weight hanging over me, of fear and anxiety and oppression.

This morning I'm feeling buoyed by a deep joy welling from within me. I loved the sunrise as I drove. I loved U2 as it played. But the joy is deeper than all those contributing things. And for that I'm inexpressibly grateful.