From the first, we knew it would come down to a couple of things:
Are we willing to show each other the cracks in our hearts? The answer is Yes. We have no choice.
I've heard it said that it is through these cracks that the light gets in, that the song gets out. And if this is true, and I believe that it is, then we must locate and describe these fissures and lesions. The light and the sound of that song must pass between us as we listen with the heart of our ears open and the heart of our mouths speaking what we thought we couldn't say.
It is no coincidence that our voice and our heart reside in the same space, that from inside the ribbed protection of bones and lungs comes the breath -- the giving and receiving movement that was set in motion the first time He breathed us into being.
And what is carried on that breath? These songs of light: broken, mended, brave and hoping. Giving, weeping, saving, moving, speaking. Those that reach. Those that open. Those that praise and pray.
And in this mouth the voice is cradled, and we hear echoes of His love, of His peace held there and released in the exhale that carries meaning away from us and back again, lifting language as one lifts the basket, the light spilling its secrets throughout a once darker world.