what the Holy Spirit feels like

We were driving home from my sister’s house when Ellie let me know she might just need to cry. She didn’t want me to worry–she was actually really happy–but she might start crying.

I tried to tell her I get like that too–just so happy you feel like you’re going to burst and then the tears come.

We are a dramatic bunch in the Graham house.

There was nothing specific that was making her so happy. We had spent the morning at my sister’s and the girls had played outside. It was a perfect summer day in Indiana, not too humid, beautifully sunny with a slight breeze.

I knew so well what she was feeling because it had happened to me just that morning. There was nothing exceptional about the moment, we didn’t suddenly win a trip to the Bahamas, inherit a million dollars, or even have a really good breakfast. It was just another typical, everyday morning. The girls were playing in the living room, I was sipping some coffee in my office, and the dog was trying to steal the leftover bagel from the kitchen table. But inside I felt tingly and electric. I was inexplicably happy and giddy. I felt like singing, dancing, running, spinning, laughing, jumping, and crying all at the same time.

I think that’s what the Holy Spirit feels like.

I think that’s what he feels like in us. When there can be absolutely no other reason or cause for such intense feelings to suddenly appear, I believe it’s the Holy Spirit moving. Literally. I sometimes forget the power I have inside of me, the energy and strength that comes from having God dwell in me. The explosive way my body feels sometimes–at the most random times–has to be him; that joy and peace that surpasses all understanding–that’s him.

I tried to tell Ellie this when she gave me the warning about her upcoming tears; I tried to let her know it was okay to cry happy tears and the feelings she had inside that were just so happy and alive and invigorating were–I thought–a small, teeny-tiny part of what God’s love for us feels like. Words failed me as they often do though. The way I felt that morning and the way Ellie was feeling as we drove down the road aren’t meant to be explained. If they were, I think it would take something away from it.

We were driving down a road that looked like a million other roads in a million other places. The sun shined on our arms as we held them out the open windows. The breeze blew the trees gently as we passed. It felt like a dream and, at the same time, like an average day. Classic rock (a favorite of God’s, I believe) played in the background. Ellie closed her eyes and smiled when she thought no one was looking. Harper hummed in the backseat, kicking her legs into the passenger seat in front of her.

And suddenly it happened again, just like it had that morning–I felt like I was going to explode, like I was electric. If you asked me why, I couldn’t tell you exactly, but I felt alive, loved, happy, giddy, crazy, and peaceful all at the same time. I don’t care if you think I’m crazy–but that’s God and you can’t tell me any different.