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.