Soundtracking

I could qualify this week with at least a dozen cliches, but I shall not. It was heavy. Emotional. Stressful. Grief-filled. You get it. 

I set this week aside to really dig into my parents' belongings, to pack, sort, prepare to sell, and decide what to keep. I knew this process would be painful, and I have been dreading it for the past three months. Oy. To the day. I didn't even realize it until I was typing that sentence. Three months since Daddy died.

I also knew this journey would be an adventure. Even the unique relationship between a parent and child does not allow for the child to know everything, and so I keep making pleasant discoveries, finding little treasures, laughing my way through piles of keepsakes mixed with old bills and letters and greeting cards. Dad clearly liked those cards that play music when opened. I believe I have found half a dozen or so that he gave to Mom.

I am not a wallow-er, but this grief journey has definitely had wallowing moments and unexpected emotional outbursts. Last week while shopping in K-Mart with my dear children, "Tears from Heaven" began to play. I went through a brief Eric Clapton stage in late high school-early college, so I began to lightly sing along as this is what I do. About 1/3 of the way through the song, I stopped in my tracks and realized what I was singing.

Mom's funeral song.

I decided that we should have chosen obscure music for Mom and Dad's funerals, and I texted my sister to tell her so. The Sunday prior to that shopping trip found me quietly crying in church as a flute duo played one of Dad's funeral songs, "You Raise Me Up." Oh how glad was I that they didn't ask me to play with them for that piece! 

So, music...it's getting to me. No one who has been reading this blog for long is surprised by this, and absolutely no one who knows me is even giving it a second thought.  This is how I tick.

As I was going through Mom and Dad's stacks and stacks of random bills, paperwork, recipes, photographs, etc, I listened to music. I found myself drawn to old CDs of mine. Steven Curtis Chapman, Michael W. Smith, Amy Grant...maybe it's because that is the sound track of my teen years, when last I lived with my folks. Maybe I'm over-analyzing a little, but the soundtrack of my week was very, very old-school.

In the midst of all this emotional hum-drum, we were observing Holy Week at our house and at church. I do not merely love this week; I absolutely look forward to it for 51 weeks (I am aware it is sometimes more or less) out of the year waiting for the opportunity to reflect anew on all that Jesus did for me. It is my favorite week of the year. I look forward to celebrating the resurrection with all that I am, and I did not find it necessary to search for eucharisteo, thanksgiving, as I went through this most holy season in preparation for this Sunday's celebration. 

Life is hard. There is still thanksgiving. It is right there in front of you if you just take a moment to look.

396. German shepherds romping in snow covered field

404. This doesn't get easier each time I come, but it is such an incredible privilege

405. Oodles of eye glasses and sunglasses 

407. Blistex. The scent of Mama's kisses

408. Daddy's aftershave

414. Moments of private worship

421. Hugs from Lukas out-of-the-blue

424. "I can see!"

430. The flicker of the candle

435. Reminder to give myself time

Music

I was chatting with a friend last night as I often do in the late evening. During our conversation, she mentioned that one of her greatest connections to God is music, especially now when things are hard in her life. She hears him when she listens to worship songs. Her heart cries out to Him as she sings along. On this I had to agree with her. I feel exactly the same way. Music is my refuge to which I escape to be with Jesus. On days when I can't write in my journal because I don't know where to begin, music speaks the words I can't say. In moments when I need to escape to the place where I just listen for His still, small voice, music is always there to speak His words to me. When I sit down and try to read the Word and find that I can't focus for more than 5 seconds, music is there with lyrics taken straight from the Bible.

God gave me this gift, this love of music, this meager talent. I have loved music since I was a very little girl when I used to go to the basement and use a hair brush as a microphone as I sang my heart out while John Denver and the Muppets played in the cassette player. I loved music for what it was, for it's beauty, for the way it made me feel, for the way it made me pause and think and listen.

I am grateful that I had the opportunity to study collegiate music. That God called me to do so is a gift that I will always cherish. Of all the choices I have been given in this life, there are many things I wouldn't choose to do again, but spending 5 years studying music? I would do it again in a heartbeat.

While studying music in college, I learned that music was a gift God gave to me that I could use to serve others. Every performance became a worship experience and a chance to speak to other people, to show them a little more of Jesus. The time I played a Brandenburg Concerto with the Indiana Wesleyan University Orchestra? I worshiped Him. My senior flute recital? Hours and hours were spent in the practice room and recital hall rehearsing, practicing, thinking, working out the hard stuff, praying, and listening to God so that I could give Him this tiny offering in the most excellent form I could provide.

Music was my life. I loved that life. I loved those years. I thrived. 

But I lost something, and I think I've only recently realized it.

I forgot why I fell in love with music in the first place. Music is, indeed, a channel God gave to me to minister to others, but I fell in love with music long before I learned to use this gift in that way. I think I spend more time thinking about how to use my gift and less time thinking about why I want others to experience music.  I want them to experience the reason why I love it so much.

Music is the gift God gave me to speak to me. Music is the language that He understands even more than I do. Music is in me, and God knows this because He put it there. Music is part of what defines my personality, and God uses it to speak to me because He knows I'm listening. The Father uses music to breathe life into my very soul.

I have performed music that has made me smile, laugh, and cry. I have been blessed by performances that have made me gasp and pause in wonder at the talent God has given to some people and at the way He uses even secular musicians to reach my heart and to speak truth to me. Music is my second language, a language best understood by the Creator Himself.

This afternoon as I played my flute, I listened. I played an arrangement of It is Well With my Soul, and I heard the Father reminding me that my soul is what matters. This life is temporary. My soul is well. Some day, the trumpet shall sound, and all the trials of this life will be over, and my soul will be all that matters in that moment.

I played an arrangement of His Eye is on the Sparrow and heard the Holy Spirit whispering to me, telling me that, not only is His eye on the Sparrow, but His hand is on my shoulder. His arms are wrapped around me. His feet are leading me. His voice is whispering into my ear and drawing me closer to His perfect love.

I played Holy, Holy, Holy and imagined the moment when I will one day sit at the feet of Jesus singing those very words with the angels in heaven, and all this will be gone. All these things will pass away, but His Word will never pass away. 

Music is my gift. Maybe it isn't my second language. Maybe it is my first language. When my stubborn heart won't listen, God always uses music to touch my heart, to reach my soul. He knows what I need. Music is what I need right now. Jesus and music will get me through this. I am grateful, so very grateful, for this gift. The Father has given me a piece of heaven on earth. Sweet melodies fill my heart until it is overflowing with words from heaven. 

Thank you, Father, for this reminder. Thank you for speaking to me. Thank you for showing me that you are here and that you love me. Thank you...for music.

A Perfect Weekend

I have been sitting here staring at the screen trying to decide how to begin this post. Last week was a tough week for us. Some issues arose that left us feeling like we needed rest and relaxation more than ever. The Lord knew what our family needed this weekend more than anything, and He provided accordingly. We have had the most blissful, fun-filled weekend together. It is as if God looked down upon us and knew we needed this blessing. Of course that's what He did! I went to bed smiling last night, and tonight, I shall do the same.

Two things were going on this weekend. Coshocton's Canal Days Festival was on the courthouse square (can someone explain to me why this doesn't happen in Roscoe anymore?), and Roscoe Village was having Coshocton Appreciation Days and allowing all county residents free admission to their tour. Yep. Free events. You know we were there!

We started our Saturday with a phone call from my parents asking us to meet them for breakfast. That was a nice way to begin our day! I'm so glad that living here allows for more opportunities like that.  Living in my hometown rocks. Seriously. It. Rocks.

We headed to Roscoe Village, a restored canal town, and got our free tickets for the Living History tour. I seriously had no idea what was inside the visitor's center since I think, as a teenager, I didn't really appreciate it as much as I do now. Fellow Coshoctonians who have moved away and only visit, check it out. My kids very much enjoyed the hands-on crafts, dress-up clothes and toys as well as the exhibit hall downstairs. Ava made a quilt square, Lukas painted a wooden top and both kids got to dip candles (all complimentary for Coshocton residents for the weekend only).

The only downside to our adventure was that we didn't realize how much time we needed in order to do the entire tour and see the Johnson-Humrickhouse Museum. We only planned to stay until 4 because the Canal Days parade began at 5, so we decided to get through as much as we could without rushing and to return Sunday afternoon instead of worrying about getting it all done at once.

The tour was well done. The kids got to see a blacksmith making hot dog roasters and a weaver making rag rugs for special orders (I had no idea they made such things on order in Roscoe!!!). They also learned about 19th century printing, medicine, broom making, schooling and, of course, the canal itself. 

As I mentioned, Canal Days was also this weekend. We didn't go to most of the festival during the day, but we headed to the parade in the evening. It was fantastic. They really stepped things up for the bicentennial celebration. The floats were well done. The parade lasted over an hour. We very much enjoyed it!

After running home for a quick dinner, we returned to the courthouse square in time to hear the Texas Tenors perform. They were apparently on America's Got Talent, but we've never really watched that show, so we weren't familiar with them. I expected a mediocre concert. I mean, it was free to attend, so I didn't want to get my hopes up too much.

Their first number was an old country-western song. It wasn't bad, but it didn't really impress me either. Their second number? O Sole O Mio. Done perfectly. PERFECTLY. My jaw dropped. My eyes bugged out. I was stunned. Eric laughed at me. It was AMAZING. They did an incredible rendition of Danny Boy with inspirational lyrics included, and my sweet little girl asked her daddy to dance with her during it. Watching my husband dance with our little girl in the twilight on the court square will be forever remembered as one of my favorite moments ever.  Adding to the effect was her southern belle gown that was bouncing back and forth as she danced. It was...unforgettable.

The Texas Tenors also did an arrangement of You Raise Me Up similar to the Selah arrangement but with pipes not unlike Josh Groban's. Wow. Sitting under the stars, listening to the cicadas singing along with great music, enjoying small town life, running into old friends...it was a perfect evening. PERFECT. Blessings from Jesus were everywhere.

After what could not be described as anything less than a difficult and challenging week, this weekend would have to be described as blessed, peaceful, joy-filled and beautiful. I could probably come up with a few more adjectives, but you might stop reading while you rolled your eyes.

I am loving living here. I was never one of those people who wanted to get out of my home town. I loved living here. I loved having roots that ran the depth of several generations. I always loved coming back and visiting. Now? I just love living here. I enjoy the slower pace of life. I enjoy being closer to my parents and running into uncles and cousins at at the grocery store. God is amazing, isn't He? Who knew that bringing me home could be one of my life's greatest blessings?

The Simple Woman's Daybook #93

Outside my window...we are having stereotypical thick, very hot, super humid weather.

I am thinking...about connecting.

 
I am thankful for...this morning when I had time at home alone to work on a project I haven't been able to attend to.

I am wearing...brown shorts, tan tank.

 
I am remembering...the smell of river mud after a storm.

I am creating...a warmer atmosphere in our home.

I am going...to enjoy the little things. 

I am reading...Anne of Green Gables (still).

 
I am hoping... that Lukas passes Level E tomorrow at swimming lessons. He is SO frustrated.

 
On my mind...fortitude.

From the learning rooms... diligence, fortitude, gentleness, grace, kindness.

Noticing that...we haven't had a family portrait taken in nearly 4 years. I think it might be time for a new one. 

 
From the kitchen...Mexican quinoa salad, BBQ chicken, grilled zucchini.

Around the house...the house is looking like we live here. The main floor has all of our photos and decor displayed.

One of my favorite things... Lukas' nose.

 
Praying for..Provision. Unity.

A lyric or two...

I lost my keys in the great unknown,

And you call me please?

'Cuz I can't find my phone.

This is the stuff that drives me crazy.

This is the stuff that's getting to me lately.

In the middle of my little mess,

I forget how big I'm blessed.

This is the stuff that gets under my skin

But I've gotta trust you know exactly what you're doin'

It might not be what I'd choose,

But this is the stuff you use.

A picture thought... 

A few plans for this week... swimming lessons, Ohio Chautauqua, VBS, chemo, a couple doctor's appointments, dinner with the pastor at the church we've been attending and a visit from my mother-in-law. Can you say busy???

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