It had to come down in San Francisco (an apex)

It had to come down in San Francisco, here I thought I was just going to a concert. But God had to take me there, to take me to full circle, God let go of the harnesses.

Joann and I booked to the city last night harking to see Mute Math.

I declare that on the Stocktom
The vague way it bothered me came up again and we prayed as we circled North Beach. I talked about the wounds that I could see even in San Francisco, these places that once were Nostalgic. Her words of Sabbath, and that knowing inside. She talked about the places she had gone. We both talked of what had been and what became. We prayed over our hurts, we prayed for balm. God stretched words across us, we hoisted them up with our mouths and began to paint the story with the cloak of the Lord. ...

Revelation and driving and tipping over steep San Francisco streets.... He knew the Lord would find us even on the 4th floor of the parking garage on Stockton:

we prayed and saw it was like a trunk or part of me I had thrown to the bottom of the sea. My little treasure trunk down there with the green stuff and the seaweed and dust, lots of dust--the sea dust--and maybe even a dress of mine was inside. And now God was hoisting it up, hoisting it up. He was using ropes. Ropes wrapping it, one rope was Joann, one rope was Clifford, there are ropes, and they are pulling up the treasure chest. They are bringing it back up. Jesus is doing the pulling the bringing back. He is recovering me. Whatever was lost, or I thought was lost, is being recovered.
Recovering. that's the word! that's it! i kept forgetting, i kept asking joann. what was that word? i could hardly hold it. but i knew it all big and fitting. yes. it will be recovered. yes i am being recovered.
We talked about funneling our energy.

We made it to her favorite parking lot, top floor. The skyscrapers on every side. In front of us a cathedral with two tours with crosses atop. in the middle was a lower peak with a cross there. Then our mewithoutyou song came on. We ran out of the car and we screamed every line.

And the song has been hovering over us, I even wrote the lyrics to her in a card in a big red pencil:

Why burn poor and lonely?

Tell all the stones, we're gonna make a building....

Then why burn so poor and lonely?

We'll be like torches we'll be like torches

We'll be torches together!

torches together

well be like torches we'll be like torches

With whatever respect, our tattered Dignity demands

Torches together, hand in hand!

The two peaks of the church staring us down.

Why pluck one string -

What good is just one note? Oh, one string sounds fine i guess....

We were once 'One Note',

We were lonely wheat quietly ground into grain (What light and momentary pain!)

So why this safe distance, this curious look?

Why tear out single pages when you can throw away the book?

Why pluck one string when you can strum the guitar?

Strum the guitar! strum the guitar! strum the guitar!

With no beginning, with no end

Take down a guitar and strum the guitar strum the the guitar!