Good Day, Sunshine!

Although my parents had the best of intentions and really big hearts, their divorce when my brother and I were young rocked our worlds. I had never seen my parents fight - not once could I remember - and suddenly, one day in 1979, our little family was o-v-e-r.

And, unfortunately, the counseling and support for kids of divorce that is popular today - and so wonderfully effective - just wasn't around then. We were on the cutting edge of dividing a family.

1979 was a weird year that launched me into being a rather serious kid - and one with a mistrust of good times. I thought, One Day You Can Be Riding Your Strawberry Pink Bike And Singing, And The Next Day It's Moving Trucks and Tears.

The otherwise delightful cocktail of joking, laughing and celebrating - so essential to a worthwhile life - often represented to me the summoning of a coming cloud.

This childhood belief seemed affirmed when, as a young adult, I lost five family members I loved dearly within two years' time. I felt a little cursed and dangerous to get close to.

Although a generally happy person, I often held my breath at the sweetest moments of my life, saving some room in my lungs to exhale in case of a nasty surprise.

I had gotten counseling to handle my parents' divorce and such over the years...and yet still found great satisfaction in planning for random catastrophe. I own a car stocked with jumper cables, bottled water, emergency glass-break tools, blanket, and a camera to document an accident. Even my insurance card is laminated - you get the picture. ; )

This week, however - Valentines Day 2011 - a knock-you-out-kind-of-joy overtook me and released me from believing that happiness has an evil twin. There is no more need of that kind of fear in my heart. And I guess I want to share the experience with you. It's big for me.

I'm calling it Face To The Sun.

I went on a tour of the new glass and steel, red-lacquered Winspear Opera House, in Dallas. The grounds of the Opera House feature an outdoor amphitheater that is simply amazing, and of which I was previously completely unaware. Named for Shannon and Ted Skokos, this Pavilion is sheathed in wonderfully soft grass and sunshine and resides behind a enormous, pristine concrete wall - it's visually tucked away, and yet right next to the Woodall Rodgers Freeway. Love it.

Our wonderful guide, Carlos Flores, introduced our little tour group to the three technicians standing in a contemporary mission-control center in the middle of the Pavilion's enormous grass lawn. These gentlemen were testing the amphitheatre's incredible sound system that afternoon. There was music everywhere - booming from huge speakers seemingly mounted to the sky.

After the introductions to the technicians were made, my date asked the gentlemen if he could please plug his iPhone into the amphitheatre's system and play a favorite song. Our little tour group of seven just kind of held its collective breath. This was an unusual request, we all knew, but one lobbed with kindness and humility…and awe…

The head technician smiled, paused a moment and said, "Sure!"

In just seconds, the song was booming through the amphitheater, with all of downtown in the background - it was simply amazing!

Another member of our group then asked permission to do the same. His wish was also granted, and Jonathan's selection of the song 'Cecilia' by Simon and Garfunkel (in honor of his girlfriend, Cecilia, also present) was soon coursing through all of us and, seemingly, the City at Large. : )

What was the icing on the cake: Jonathan's beloved, Cecilia herself, danced across that lawn to the music, to the delight of all of us. Face To The Sun.

This was a gift. A sign.

And one I won't forget.

Face To The Sun is to me, a boldness toward life.

An embracing of each day - calling each one BIG and RIPE. It's the very fact that it's OK not to know what's ahead.

It's an unusual way for me to think, and even stranger for me to publish so publicly.

As I think on yesterday, I realize God keeps putting people in front of me lately that are celebrating life - who are unafraid despite their own scars and scares - and I ADORE these people. They no longer make me crazy with worry. I've decided to hold hands with them, and let their fearlessness course through me.

It's working.

After all, if I'm going to fear, now is the time.

My mom and I are closer than ever.

My only sibling is on a missions trip in a war-torn country, assisting civilians in need of medical care.

I have an amazing cast of friends and family around the world that make me blissfully sigh with their desire to be a part of my little life - how much joy they bring, how fortunate I am!

But rather than worry over these blessings, I'm going to trust them to the hands of the Capable, Loving God who made me. And crafted you, too, Lovely One. He truly wants us filled with Joy and Expectation.

If I'm hit by a truck tomorrow, I will be smiling with love and whatever-comes-next. Cause I put one foot in front the other and dug in with each step, starting yesterday. I felt the soil beneath my feet, the wind in my hair and the sun on my own happy face. And breathed easy.

I will give a big French kiss to that Peterbilt grill if I meet it, I'm telling you.

That's the kind of life I now live. The rest of the years of my life will reflect it.

May I encourage you to turn your face to the sun, too? Maybe that's squeezing in an overdue visit with a friend. Or staying up later than you should and kissing your beloved in a meaningful way, even if you've forgotten how. Your hearts will stir. Your lips will remember.

Or maybe you're like I was, and there's an irrational fear that runs part of your life and saps your energy, your ability to connect. Throw it in the toilet today. Flush. As many times as you need to.

God will give you other things to focus on - things that give you joy - if you'll just hand your slice of crazy over to Him.

The freedom you'll gain is entirely worth the courage required.

Love,

Melinda

Photo Credit: Getty Images