It's been whispered among the pews, trumpeted at Bible studies, wept over at the altars, and expounded upon from the pulpet. And yet I for one still don't know if it's possible.

Revival.

I'm not talking a special service where there are more amens than usual, or a week of good attendance. I don't mean a scheduled weekend with a different preacher. 

We're talking about nothing more or less than the heavens opening up and the Spirit pouring out through our church and running through the streets of our city. We're talking about tongues of fire and healings and changed lives. A God encounter that would make history sit up and take notice.

Because I've never seen that before, have you? I grew up in a family sewn hand and foot to the concerns of Ministry. I've seen Ministry on three continents. I've felt the Spirit move on a slightly smaller scale. I've heard stories of revival. But in my own experience? Nada.

At our church now it feels like a deep rumble under the feet of our congregation, this dream of revival. A subversive sprite that whispers in the ears of our staff, our members. I myself ache for it - in my head, my teeth, my heart - it's like a surge of spiritual hormones, and I'm not the only one hitting puberty.

Am I making sense? Do you feel the yearning in your gut for more of God? More community? More transperency? For a New Testament-style back yard barbecue complete with prophecy, charity, and crazed worship. Where the neighbors peek over the fence and we invite them all until it becomes a block party, then a rave.

That's what we claim to want, right? So what's stopping us? Why have we not seen it yet? Why has God told us "not yet?"

Maybe we don't want it enough. Maybe we haven't shed enough tears in pursuit of it yet. Perhaps I'm not obedient enough in my devotional life or too many of us fall asleep during the sermon on Sunday. Maybe what God's looking for is unity in our drive. For surely, if each and every one of us were praying faithfully for an outpouring of the Spirit - if we each invited Him earnestly into our lives - if we were really living out the mandates of the faith - would God really be able to stay away? I don't think so. I think we would see fire, and see it quickly.

And really, that's what I want - just to see it. To catch a glimpse of God's back as He's departing Mt. Sinai. If God chooses not to bring revival to this city, this church, who am I to argue? But I am determined to chase Him down when He does show up, wherever that may be. Mark my words, if news of a revival reaches me, I'll be the first to sign up for a road trip to go see it, like some crazed God groupie.

But I still hold out hope that God wants to work here, with us. Oh Father, give us more of You - and when we are full to bursting with Your Spirit, give us still more.

I'm very bad at hanging on to good jewelry.

I was 15 when someone stole my triple strand of seed pearls which I bought in the Khan el-Khalili in Cairo. I think I wore it... twice? before it was gone.

My sophomore year of college I managed to lose the large gold ring that was my last keepsake from Senegal.

I came back from Scotland with a cute pair of gold thistle earrings. They broke in under 6 months.

I currently can't find the necklace that my folks got me for my 16th birthday - the one I wore for my wedding. Also missing is the first piece of jewelry my husband ever got me while we were dating. I'm convinced that once we unpack all the boxes from our last move, I will find them both. I hope. I pray.

A couple years ago I purchased a pair of earrings at the Renaissance Festival. Loved them, wore them all the time. Lost one of them a few months back. I was under the impression that the missing earring was somewhere in Saginaw at my parents' house. However, when one of my new pearl studs fell down the bathroom sink, my husband valiantly disassembled the plumbing to retrieve it. We also found the Ren Fest earring in the u-bend! Happy day!

But wouldn't you know, I then couldn't find the other earring which hadn't been lost.

Well, a couple nights ago, we were at the home of some dear friends, and for the occasion I pulled a cropped khaki jacket out of the back of my closet and discovered the offending earring in one of the little pockets. I'm not sure I can express how happy I was upon finding that earring.

So I've become pretty good at "letting go." After all, it's all just stuff. It gets lost. And found. And lost again. And sometimes, on good days, rediscovered for good.

I'm sure there's a sermon illustration in there somewhere. Or some schmaltz about how now all I have from those places are the happy memories. But I think the more immediate moral of the story is that I should never try to have nice jewelry. I'm just not very good at it.

I'm going to go enjoy my refound earrings now.

Horrible dry spell. I've done no writing of any kind for a few weeks. I've started a blog entry or two, but discarded them unsatisfied with the result. Each time I try to divine meaning from the occurrences in my life or even my own behavior, it all comes out bland and rubbery.

And I should have plenty to say. I could talk about doctor appointments and the flu. I could talk about Easter. I could mention family coming to visit. I've read books lately. We're trying to buy a house, and that's a big deal.

But for some reason the event that keeps coming to mind is the most unaccountable, minor thing I've done this month.

I was doing laundry: transferring a load of tee shirts and underthings to the dryer, starting a load of delicates in the washer. In our apartment, the ancient washer and dryer are in a closet off the hallway. Just the two appliances and a couple of linen shelves enclosed by broken accordion doors which slightly muffle the rattling of the dinosaur machines.

Well, I set the dryer and the washer and made to close the doors when I paused. Carefully, I moved aside a bottle of fabric softener and a partial box of dryer sheets. I gingerly crawled up on top of the washer and dryer - I had to curl up on my side to fit under the shelves. Nudging the wobbly doors into place, I just hid there, in the dark of the laundry closet, for a moment. Until I felt the full silliness of my position, then I got out of the closet and did the dishes.

I have no idea why I did that. I was alone in the apartment, so it wasn't for anyone else's benefit. Was I hiding? Did I just want to see if I would fit? Was I just entertaining myself? I am at a loss.

Have you ever done something ridiculous for no apparent reason? If so, please share: it will make me feel less absurd.