Last night I started thinking about the summer coming up, and all of the great things that we can do in the warm weather. I thought about things I did as a kid, and my favorite thing was going to a lake and hanging out with friends swimming and being on the beach and riding boats. These were rare occurrences, actually, but always my favorite.
Got me thinking about one year when I was fourteen. In the thick of weirdness at my church, we had this group of friends. My parents did, that is. So, for the Forth of July we went out to one of their places. Out on a farm, with a lake and a big yard and lots of buildings. I didn't know the people very well. My sister was friends with the little daughter. I loved that place. It was beautiful. We had a great day, full of all of the things I loved. They had a pinball machine in one of the sheds that we could play, and of course, all of the lake stuff.
They had a son Calan too. He was a year older than me, tall and skinny with a sad smile and crooked teeth. He had an obsession with comic books. he was an artist. And he had a friend there that weekend so I hardly saw him most of the day. I knew him from church but hadn't hung out with him much. He was in this crowd of fringe people, who didn't put on the church face and try to impress everyone, who weren't popular at school, who were just themselves and let everyone see them for who they were. That weekend, at his house, seeing where he lived and the way he'd decorated his bedroom and the things he liked, I caught a glimpse of his soul. It sort of creeped me out. But he was a nice guy too. we talked a little that day, but I don't remember much about it.
After dark when the folks settled in to watch the fireworks from miles away in their lawn chairs, and my brothers went to light illegal fireworks, some how I ended up following Scott over into a pasture and up a fence and then up onto a rooftop, where we could see the fireworks just perfectly. I snagged my favorite shirt on a nail but I didn't really care. We just sat there and watched the fireworks, and I don't even know why. Maybe we were just two misfits finally connecting on some weird level. Maybe he was lonely like me and like having the company of the opposite sex. It would have been the perfect moment to say or do something romantic, but we just sat there together. And I'll remember it forever because I felt like myself and it had been such a good day and I was safe there.
About a year later, my friend called me to tell me Calan had hanged himself in his bedroom.
I don't know why it mattered so much to me. I didn't ever know him that well, and we left the church before Calan and I became good friends. I think we might have. Maybe that's what haunts me about it. Or maybe it was just that in a lot of ways, I was so much like him. Or maybe it was because it just wasn't right. Because he was a gentle spirit with good to offer the world, who struggled just like anyone else. Who bothered to talk to me. I think about that forth of July sometimes and wonder if things had been a little different, what could have happened with me and Scott after then. And when I get to heaven if he's there I'm gonna ask him what tormented his soul in that lesser world where we once lived where good and bad walked on a tight line, and simplicity and beauty held hands, and horrific and terrible intertwined with every day.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
My Friend Mitch
Last night I went to see Mitch McVicker perform. I like him, not as much for his music as for his essence. He does a really cool concert using a loop box and all kinds of weird percussion pieces and household items. He talks like Rich Mullins, earthy and poetic all at once, with a new perspective on things you think about all the time. He sings songs that mean something.
If you've read my blog for a long time, you know I like him. I saw him the first time after Grace died, in March, and I bought the album "Love Will Rise". The title track kept me going. I listened to it almost every day, sometimes I'd just let it go on repeat. The world felt so dark and wrong, and the song comforted me and encouraged me to keep going.
He didn't sing it at the second concert I attended the following year, but I (using all the courage and guts I had) went and told him about it (because he's awesome and stays afterward to sign CD's and talk to people). He just smiled this humble smile and nodded his head. He seemed so honored to be used like that.
He sang it this time. And I, having healed so much since that first time i watched him sing it as a brand new song, smiled through it, lost in thoughts of pain and healing and God's mightiness and tenderness and love. For a minute I think Mitch looked out at me, maybe remembering what I'd told him last year. Maybe not. But he did look, and I smiled because God is so good to me.
I think that's the awesome thing about music. You can connect with people on so many different levels. It matters. And I liked what he said at this last concert about how the world doesn't need more Christian musicians. It just needs truth, so he's just trying to merge those. I think he does a good job. (And his link is on my blog if you feel like checking him out). Some day in heaven when we're all sitting around recounting God's hand in our lives, I'll point at Mitch and say thanks.
If you've read my blog for a long time, you know I like him. I saw him the first time after Grace died, in March, and I bought the album "Love Will Rise". The title track kept me going. I listened to it almost every day, sometimes I'd just let it go on repeat. The world felt so dark and wrong, and the song comforted me and encouraged me to keep going.
He didn't sing it at the second concert I attended the following year, but I (using all the courage and guts I had) went and told him about it (because he's awesome and stays afterward to sign CD's and talk to people). He just smiled this humble smile and nodded his head. He seemed so honored to be used like that.
He sang it this time. And I, having healed so much since that first time i watched him sing it as a brand new song, smiled through it, lost in thoughts of pain and healing and God's mightiness and tenderness and love. For a minute I think Mitch looked out at me, maybe remembering what I'd told him last year. Maybe not. But he did look, and I smiled because God is so good to me.
I think that's the awesome thing about music. You can connect with people on so many different levels. It matters. And I liked what he said at this last concert about how the world doesn't need more Christian musicians. It just needs truth, so he's just trying to merge those. I think he does a good job. (And his link is on my blog if you feel like checking him out). Some day in heaven when we're all sitting around recounting God's hand in our lives, I'll point at Mitch and say thanks.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Weeds
I've been waging war in my yard against weeds. It's pretty much a hopeless cause, but I sort of enjoy pulling them up anyway. There's this satisfying thud sound when you actually yank out the roots. And this annoying rip sound when you don't get it.
We've got creeping charlie, which is about the worst yard weed I can imagine. It crawls around the grass and weaves a foundation in the dirt, suffocating the grass sprouts and eventually taking it all over.
As I was yanking strings of charlies out of the dirt, digging deeper to each level, I thought about weeds in our lives. How they grow underneath and you don't even see them until they've taken over. How sometimes they're big and ugly and take over the whole lawn, but sometimes they look like flowers. And sometimes they're easy to yank out by the roots, and sometimes it's nearly impossible.
They're kind of like the lies that take root in our hearts. Some lies are easy to find and pull out. Some sound good and make us look good, but they're still lies. Some of them are so deeply embedded in our personality and thinking that it's hard to even know where to start uprooting them.
So. I've thought about what lies have grown in my heart. I think we try to pull our weeds in a lot of different ways, but often those aren't pulling down to the roots. Sometimes I think I've pulled a whole weed out of my heart, only to discover it's growing up again, stronger and harder. I know this is vague but of course, weeds arent things people like to display for the whole world to know.
I sprayed parts of my lawn, and as I watch the charlie and clover and crabgrass wither away into brown nastiness, I consider God's word and how it works the same way on those lies in my heart, exposing them for what they are, dismantling them, and making the soil good for what's supposed to be growing.
We've got creeping charlie, which is about the worst yard weed I can imagine. It crawls around the grass and weaves a foundation in the dirt, suffocating the grass sprouts and eventually taking it all over.
As I was yanking strings of charlies out of the dirt, digging deeper to each level, I thought about weeds in our lives. How they grow underneath and you don't even see them until they've taken over. How sometimes they're big and ugly and take over the whole lawn, but sometimes they look like flowers. And sometimes they're easy to yank out by the roots, and sometimes it's nearly impossible.
They're kind of like the lies that take root in our hearts. Some lies are easy to find and pull out. Some sound good and make us look good, but they're still lies. Some of them are so deeply embedded in our personality and thinking that it's hard to even know where to start uprooting them.
So. I've thought about what lies have grown in my heart. I think we try to pull our weeds in a lot of different ways, but often those aren't pulling down to the roots. Sometimes I think I've pulled a whole weed out of my heart, only to discover it's growing up again, stronger and harder. I know this is vague but of course, weeds arent things people like to display for the whole world to know.
I sprayed parts of my lawn, and as I watch the charlie and clover and crabgrass wither away into brown nastiness, I consider God's word and how it works the same way on those lies in my heart, exposing them for what they are, dismantling them, and making the soil good for what's supposed to be growing.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
My Life is Full of Interruptions
Grrrrr. I've been wanting to write so badly lately. I've gotten some good ideas for pieces of stories and plans for new ones, but nothing is coming together. The ones I was working on are stuck. Every last one of them. i need to write devotionals for the theatrical camp and I can't even do that.
Reading a good book makes me want to write even more. I just finished one that i liked and it made me really want to get back to the keys. But tonight I sat and typed two paragraphs before I was interrupted. If I have a good idea of where i'm going, I can slam stuff out with things going on around me and concentrate later when the house gets quiet. (Which seems to be never these days). But when I barely have the inspiration, then it takes all of the concentration I have, which isn't a lot. But now the distractions are full force. The attic project, preparing for a garage sale, theatrical camp, and playdates are taking up all of my free time. It comes in waves. But i apologize. I got nothing.
Reading a good book makes me want to write even more. I just finished one that i liked and it made me really want to get back to the keys. But tonight I sat and typed two paragraphs before I was interrupted. If I have a good idea of where i'm going, I can slam stuff out with things going on around me and concentrate later when the house gets quiet. (Which seems to be never these days). But when I barely have the inspiration, then it takes all of the concentration I have, which isn't a lot. But now the distractions are full force. The attic project, preparing for a garage sale, theatrical camp, and playdates are taking up all of my free time. It comes in waves. But i apologize. I got nothing.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Mother's Day 2 years later.
This year May 9th was less painful than the previous two years. I think it will be that way with every passing year. And I'm glad, but at the same time, it makes me sad that Grace will become more and more of a memory and less and less of a reality. I missed her. Sitting there at church, realizing that today I could have had a little two year old in my arms while we sang "Blessed Be your Name". I cried a little bit during that song, and then I clung to Arlene.
Jayna was sick so Daniel stayed home with her.
My friend whose baby died the same year as Grace stood on stage for child dedications with her family. Her husband admitted the difficulty of it being his first time on stage since the funeral of their little baby. I cried then too.
Then I didn't cry the rest of the day. The sad part about the due date birthday being on Mother's Day was that I was really conflicted. Part of me wanted to tell everyone and remind them about that little girl I should have been holding. But the considerate part of me just wished everyone happy Mother's Day and got on with life. I'd hoped my church would take my recommendation to have memorial flowers available for mothers who had lost children. They didn't. My family didn't even mention it. But we had a nice time anyway. My sister came home for a few days so we hung out and had ice cream and pizza. Real Mother's Day-ish.
We went to the greenhouse with my mother-in-law and then stopped at the playground and visited for a while. It was nice.
They didn't remember. And I shouldn't expect anyone to. And what would they say even if they did?
One thing that has turned into a little blessing, though, is the friends who were pregnant at the same time as me. There were a LOT of babies born that spring. Two close friends had their due dates a week on either end of mine. They always remember, and I'm thankful. Because even if it's just one person, it matters. It matters that my baby isn't lost forever in the annuls of time and horrific events that everyone's glad they didn't have to experience. Because I love her, and I can't forget and I can't let go. It's all I have to hold on to.
Mother's Day will always be that way for me, I think. Joy and sorrow. Mingled there in my heart, both reminders of Grace. Both reminders of God's faithfulness and goodness and love.
Jayna was sick so Daniel stayed home with her.
My friend whose baby died the same year as Grace stood on stage for child dedications with her family. Her husband admitted the difficulty of it being his first time on stage since the funeral of their little baby. I cried then too.
Then I didn't cry the rest of the day. The sad part about the due date birthday being on Mother's Day was that I was really conflicted. Part of me wanted to tell everyone and remind them about that little girl I should have been holding. But the considerate part of me just wished everyone happy Mother's Day and got on with life. I'd hoped my church would take my recommendation to have memorial flowers available for mothers who had lost children. They didn't. My family didn't even mention it. But we had a nice time anyway. My sister came home for a few days so we hung out and had ice cream and pizza. Real Mother's Day-ish.
We went to the greenhouse with my mother-in-law and then stopped at the playground and visited for a while. It was nice.
They didn't remember. And I shouldn't expect anyone to. And what would they say even if they did?
One thing that has turned into a little blessing, though, is the friends who were pregnant at the same time as me. There were a LOT of babies born that spring. Two close friends had their due dates a week on either end of mine. They always remember, and I'm thankful. Because even if it's just one person, it matters. It matters that my baby isn't lost forever in the annuls of time and horrific events that everyone's glad they didn't have to experience. Because I love her, and I can't forget and I can't let go. It's all I have to hold on to.
Mother's Day will always be that way for me, I think. Joy and sorrow. Mingled there in my heart, both reminders of Grace. Both reminders of God's faithfulness and goodness and love.
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