Do you ever wake up with a seemingly random song running through your head and sometimes escaping through your lips? It seems almost instant, even in the early morning hours, when you are still in a mixed up sleep/awake state…the song running through your mind, your heart. Almost as if you are being bathed in it.
I always take this as a clue. A hint of what God’s Spirit is calling up and out of me.
This morning this song was already being sung in my mind and heart.
Praise is rising, eyes are turning to You, we turn to You
Hope is stirring, hearts are yearning for You, we long for You
‘Cause when we see You, we find strength to face the day
In Your Pres- ence all our fears are washed away, washed away
Hear the sound of hearts returning to You, we turn to You
In Your Kingdom broken lives are made new, You make us new
‘Cause when we see You, we find strength to face the day
In Your Pres- ence all our fears are washed away, washed away
Hosanna, hosanna
You are the God Who saves us, worthy of all our praises
Hosanna, hosanna
Come have Your way among us
We welcome You here, Lord Jesus
Sunshine is a rare commodity these winter days where it seems like every other day it is snowing another 3-4 inches and the snow blowers are all rattling off their “2 cycle engine hummmm” in the neighborhood. The beaver full length fur coat has made its grand appearance on more than one occasion when the thermometer outside our kitchen nook window hits below that big zero degrees mark. I think our furnace ran nonstop for two or three days last week when our Winter Queen refused to let up on the frigid air blasting through every nook and cranny of this old and beloved house.
Despite all this, I treasure winter. I really do. I know; I’m strange. There is such deep and mysterious beauty to all of it. I have been enjoying my car rides to work in the morning–turning East onto the mini expressway in Waukegan and seeing that wide expanse of steaming water called Lake Michigan. The sun rising over it and penetrating the irises of my eyes. Passing the small stretch of woods coming into Lake Bluff and having the sun dance through the trees and play chase with me. I can feel it tapping me on the shoulder and running away and then pouncing on me again. And then I come into wide open areas where the sun is rapping on my window, coating what skin is visible and I feel winter freckles emerging. Ahhhh, sun.
I let the sun kiss me tenderly and it feels like medicine for my achy and arthritic soul.
I was chatting with a friend yesterday and she asked me an interesting question that I have been chewing on, “If you could give counsel and advise to a fifteen year old you, what would you give?”
I am not sure. My first response was, “You are going to be okay.” But that seems so general and not super helpful. I am still not sure.
What might you say to a fifteen year old you from this new vantage point you are in?
Have you ever had a piece of music pierce you in a place so deep within that it surprisingly brought a little sob into your throat? Have you ever been caught off guard by the rhythm of a song that you found yourself swaying and rocking in such a way that resembles a birthing woman? Have you felt your gut lurch with emotion in response to some crescendo in a song?
One Saturday morning, I was in the garden and realized I was running out of my wave runner petunias for my window boxes. So off to Home Depot I went. I popped in Ivan’s favorite classical CD—Beethoven’s 9th symphony. I turned it up really loud which was just slightly counter cultural since the majority in Waukegan blast their music in such way to cause other people’s cars to vibrate along with their own. But the slightly counter cultural part is that I was playing classical music instead of that tuba song the Latinos are addicted to right now at a decibel that was vibrating my very own body. As the music played and the warm wind whipped my hair around the edges of my sun hat, I felt the music tugging on me and before I knew it the soul of this piece of music had it’s hands around some braided core within me, yanking. There is a part in the 4th movement (not sure if that is the right musical terminology, but whatever) where the choir that has been standing there in anticipation of their part for a good forty five minutes is finally able to release their voices. It starts with a baritone singing in German a beautiful piece titled Ode to Joy, “Oh friends, not these tones! Let us raise our voices in more pleasing and more joyful sounds!” I, of course, don’t know the English interpretation of the German, but it still swells and tosses the water within me and I all of a sudden find myself wanting to heave with sobs. I was aware that what was being tossed around and pulled up by this powerful piece of music was wordless; but it was there. So I just let the music drag up that cord of woven emotion and wept.
I recently watched the movie, Once (I know, I am behind in the times and probably considered an old lady by most). I had an evening just to myself so I nestled into the couch and watched. What a powerful and moving movie. I had a similar response to the music found within this movie as I did to Beethoven where the music of the movie was stirring the waters and I felt all sort of emotion cresting to the top and brimming over. The music is so full of grief and loss and a tad bit of rage. It seemed applicable to where I am most days and gave language to the deeper wells of emotion that seemed locked up but raging within me. I wept through the entirety of the movie, finding it extremely cathartic.
So I find my heart cresting with powerful pieces of music and the wildflowers found within the woods. And I ride the wave, so to speak, letting my feet get picked up off the river bed floor and swept up into the current of God’s mercy moving through the inner chambers of my heart where only beauty can penetrate and speak comfort.
