Coldplay

It was sometime in late fall 2012 that I walked out of the library with Coldplay in hand. The details are fuzzy - the why and how I ended up with that CD as opposed to the many other musical offerings available. I had wanted new sounds for the van, my old '98 Grand Caravan that not-so-faithfully lugged four kids around (with the CD player as the only option as a break from the monotony of radio).

I think it was on the dark 6:40 a.m. drives to school that I became enthralled, not really a love-at-first-listen, but rather a slow burn of note after note reaching into my soul.

Maybe it was the tumult of the time that led to my infatuation - the falling apart of an integral part of my life, along with the turning upside down of a lifetime of faith. I'm sure part of it was the hints of discovering depths of me previously hidden. Whatever the magical combination, Coldplay was my burning bush, my holy ground, my Gethsemane.

Like a new lover, they became a daily fix, and life was not complete without song after song. I can't put into words what message God was saying through something so seemingly silly as a popular band considered overrated by some and musical genius by others (you can guess what side I fall on). But my God, did He speak, and something in me was awakening and responding.

Lest you think I'm a bit over the top with all of this, it might help to mention that my degree is in music therapy. Music has always been in my blood. It's been a constant, every-present part of who I am. I've studied it's power and know it's sway. So in that respect, it's not at all surprising that deep calls to deep most fiercely in song for me. But I never expected that Coldplay would become such a strong conduit for grace and mercy, that they would be manna to my soul. Other bands speak to me, for sure, dropping hints of glory into my heart, but none speak that mysterious language that Coldplay does, laying claim to my heart with every beat.

[reposted from my now-defunct snappages blog]

The Farm

There is a white farm house with green shutters by corn fields and narrow county roads. The coffee is strong and rich, the breeze gentle. And when I'm there, the laughter twirls through the air as four wonderous beings who call me mom run and play.

While Grandpa makes his famous french toast, Grandma and I sit in the morning light on the deck, mugs steaming (I have a favorite one I like to claim as my own when I visit). We catch up on life as Riley, the dog, runs to catch whatever it is the kids have thrown. Despite the blurry movement of young energy, there is a stillness, a peace that seeps into my soul.

This farm has been my place of refuge, my solace, an oasis of calm in the midst of the crazy of life. I have been welcomed and well-loved by the two people who have called it home. There have been memories made that are planted deep into the soil of my being, and moments made that have grown beautiful. Every blade of grass, every petal, every slant of sunshine that has peeked through the trees, somehow, is a part of who I am now.

Soon this farm will belong to another. And that is hard. There is a sadness to closing this chapter. There is a meaning in letting go of this place that goes deep. But, as life is, change propels us forward whether we like it or not, and new memories are lingering out there, waiting to be caught.

my help

These words were read at my wedding 18 years ago.  17 months into being single again, with four kids to raise, they remain more true today than I ever could have realized.

Psalm 121 (NRSV)

Assurance of God’s Protection

A Song of Ascents.

¹ I lift up my eyes to the hills—
    from where will my help come?
² My help comes from the Lord,
    who made heaven and earth.

³ He will not let your foot be moved;
    he who keeps you will not slumber.
⁴ He who keeps Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

⁵ The Lord is your keeper;
    the Lord is your shade at your right hand.
⁶ The sun shall not strike you by day,
    nor the moon by night.

⁷ The Lord will keep you from all evil;
    he will keep your life.
⁸ The Lord will keep
    your going out and your coming in
    from this time on and forevermore.

#OneWord365

My word for 2016 is certainly unique but exquisitely fitting and meaningful to where I find myself in life this year. It is tucked deep into my heart and will most likely be an intensely personal (and therefore not publicized) journey.

{ Betroth }

"And I will betroth you to me forever. I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy. I will betroth you to me in faithfulness. And you shall know the Lord."

~ Hosea 2:19 & 20

1275-1325; Middle English betrouthe, variant of betreuthe
(be- [be] + treuthe [truth]; see troth )

Thoreau and a garbage truck

~21° and light snow : sunshine and blue skies~

My prompt for today from {Abbey of the Arts} was to take a contemplative walk outside and ask for a "wild" word from what I encountered.

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While I have become adept at driving through Michigan winters, my favorite way to enjoy them is from the comfort of my living room ~ coffee and book in hand, cat on lap. Warm. Safe. [for more on this, see Winter by Adam Gopnik]

But the first drink of coffee is that much more delicious when one is chilled to the bone, cheeks flushed from the cold. And one feels that much more alive when having walked through snowflakes, feeling the wonder of them.

____

It's Monday and so the garbage truck was winding it's way through my neighborhood. I laughed to myself at this rusty monstrosity ruining my peaceful winter stroll. Because isn't that life? And isn't that what I try so hard to control?

I acknowledge the mess. Wax poetically about the "chaos" of life. Find beauty in the ordinary. But only when I define the limits and maintain my corner of uncluttered comfort (coffee and book in hand and cat on lap).

____

Experience, don't observe.

____

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

Henry David Thoreau

____

I won't be going to the woods by any means (suburban America is a far cry from being immersed in the elements), but I am going to live more deliberately in the world around me... even when rusty monstrosities threaten to mar my self-indulgent peace.

Winter Walk

{ 2016 monthly reading }

January : Winter ~ Five Windows of the Season by Adam Gopnik

February : If You Feel Too Much by Jamie Tworkowski