The hidden music

Back at the end of March of this year I was at a leader's retreat at church. On Saturday morning, between the time of finishing breakfast and the start of the first session, a bunch of us were standing loosely congregated around the worship musicians' corner of the room. We were chatting and randomly tossing out songs and having a fun time with some totally spontaneous worship. One of the gals tossed out a song called "God of This City" by Bluetree. If you listen to any Christian radio in America you've heard it, probably ad nauseum by this point. At the time I had heard the song on the radio, but did not even know it well enough to know the words to the chorus. I realized that I really liked the tune, though, and promised myself to pay better attention the next time I heard it on the radio.

Well, long story short I liked it so well that when I happened upon the group's album on sale for $5 I snapped it up (even though I rarely do this when I only know one song). I generally like to listen to a new CD on the regular stereo, but it was a very busy day/week/season of my life so I popped it onto my iPod, which I like to wear when I do boring jobs like folding laundry. One evening, as I was folding said laundry, while Brian finished up the kids' bath I was listening to the album. Now, understand I had *already* listened to it at least 3 or 4 times. As I was working, I noticed at one point that I was hearing an instrumental version of the theme of the title song - huh, that's funny, where is that on the album? It was so beautiful, a lovely piano theme and variations. How could I have missed it? I'd listened to the album while doing other stuff each time and I hadn't noticed it before. I zipped around the songs, confused that I couldn't find it again. Put it back at the beginning and tried to pay better attention this time.

What I discovered, such a small thing, became a huge epiphany in my life. This beautiful instrumental piece that I found so lovely and haunting? It was the ending part of the title song! I'm sure that the song gets cut off when they play it on the radio because it's a logical place to do so, they have time constraints, and most people want to hear the part with the singing. But the fact that I'd listened to it at least 4 times before (maybe more, because I liked it) and never noticed that part, never even noticed it was part of the song - well - picture a little light bulb over top of my head.

I put the song on again, and stopped to listen quite deliberately this time. Sure enough, at 4 min. 55 sec. there is a fadeout and pause from the main song, the place where it ends on the radio. You think the song is over, then at 4:56 it comes back in with this gorgeous piano instrumental version of the theme. It's delicate, lovely, and haunting - the deep ending chords resonated in my soul. I took my ear buds out and sat there stunned. This song is like my life - I missed the most beautiful part of the song because I was busy and not really paying attention.

How much of my LIFE had I been missing lately by being busy and not paying attention? It was quite a wake-up call, and that one tiny moment would become a turning point in my life. It was when I realized I was tired of the human do-ing and wanted to be a human be-ing again.

Perhaps a bit of overkill

Now I know why it takes me so long to get around to doing the Really Big Chores - like the big clothing sort n' toss I've been working on this week. It's because my slightly ADD brain, when it finally focuses in on something.....can't....let.....go. I made up my mind to very sensibly sort a box or bag or 2 a day. Today I have to wear one of my wrist braces because I overdid it with moving around big heavy bins and carrying monstrous amounts of stuff needing to be laundered.

Also, much of the clothing (mine, at least....I know what does or doesn't fit the kids) needs to be actually tried on. An odious task that - especially when you're sorting winter things and it's 80 degrees and humid. I keep vacillating as to how ruthless I want to be with the sorting - on the one hand, if I toss everything I haven't actually worn in the last year (like the experts recommend) I will finally be able to fit all my clothing in its allotted spaces. On the other hand, sometimes I find myself needing that odd bit of clothing - for a costume, a messy job, a camping trip, an unexpected cold/warm snap. And the sorting process itself is a walk down memory lane. That seems to be exclusively a "woman thing". Oh look, there's that cute dress I wore to work a lot when my husband and I were dating! And there's my favorite sweater that looked so cute when leggings were in the first time around. And the adorable miniskirt I pranced around my college campus in (yes, they go back that far - hush - I'm sorting it *now* that's what matters).

In the interest of not driving myself crazy, I'm trying something I read about. All the stuff that I can't/don't wear and is not sentimental - goes. The few things that are really hard to part with will get packed up in a special consider-it-again-a-year-from-now box. At this stage of the game, *anything* I can get out of this house or pack neatly in a labeled box is a plus. Twenty plus years of sorting will not happen overnight. It's sort of like weight loss - for my house. It didn't get cluttered overnight, and it won't get uncluttered overnight.

I'm working against 18+ years of training by my Depression-era parents. Like Flylady says - baby steps. Itty bitty baby steps, if necessary.

Except yesterday it became slightly addictive. I kept finding "just one more thing" to sort. Ended up feeding the kids ramen noodles for dinner - oops. Well, they were happy, and I was happy with a good day's work done.

...and a time to throw away

I've said before that when God is trying to get my attention He keeps sending me the same message in many different ways - over and over....and over. Yes, I can be dense sometimes - and stubborn. (That 'ole Welsh and Scottish heritage again....)

Two passages keep coming back to me right now through various means - friends, family, church, books, music. The first - "Be still and know that I am God." For about a year I tried to "be still" while being still busy. Didn't work. It's been around 5-ish months since I left the busy-ness behind. Had more than a few dark, depressing, lonely moments - a sort of busy-ness detox, I think.

Now a second passage keeps coming up over and over - the one from Ecclesiastes about "a time to every purpose under heaven". As it turns out, I've spent part of the past few months doing a lot of sorting and tossing - of old clothes and junk in particular. But also of other things. Lately I've come to realize that I've been holding on to a lot of thoughts, habits, beliefs, and ways of doing things that are no longer productive, necessary, or - in some cases - not even mine. One of the things I'm in the habit of doing is taking sermon notes in church. I found a bunch of old notes hanging around (when Connor dumped my Bible). As I sorted through them, I came upon a few sets from different churches. I'd internalized many of these teachings, and yet, as I looked through them - some of the teachings were diametrically opposed to each other. What's more, I sat there asking myself if I even *believed* everything that was in those notes. Some of the various teachers I'd taken the notes on laid out a point of view of certain passages that I realized was completely unlike any other interpretation of that passage I'd ever heard before - and I had swallowed it unquestioningly.

That gave me pause - a very big pause. I started rummaging around in my head and saw that I had many beliefs, habits, notions, and self-talk going on in there that weren't really mine. Again, I'd just absorbed them unquestioningly - from from church, culture, friends, family - like a good little sponge they'd all been absorbed.

So - I've been housecleaning - in more ways than one. Yes, it feels very good to lighten the burden of clutter in my house. It's good and necessary to get rid of things that are no longer used or useful. But - it is soul lightening (en-lightening?) to relieve my mind and my soul of the bits of flotsam and jetsam that have been floating around in there since I was a teenager. My journal's been very busy - and a necessary companion to help me dredge up the sludge so it can be washed away.

I've been amazed to rediscover (hidden beneath the mental and schedule related clutter) music, authors, and hobbies I'd forgotten I enjoyed. I picked up my sketchbook for the first time in probably 12 -13 years. I dug out my cookbooks and made some old fashioned home cooked meals (with actual vegetables that grew in the ground!) I did silly things with my children, like making "pinkalicious" cupcakes just for fun.

I'd been running around, restlessly searching for what I called "my missing puzzle piece" - and all along it's been inside of me (truly, the kingdom of God is within you). I just had to sit still long enough for God to find me.

It's hard to be a sage when you're up to your ears in laundry

The problem with spiritual journeys is that, unless you are a hermit, at some point real life intrudes. It's really hard to put the brakes on painful soul-searching, fervent prayer, and deep contemplation. It's hard for anybody. But it's magnified if you have kids. It has made for some alternately funny/frustrating moments lately.

Kids are the great equalizer. If you're feeling with it and on top of the world (spiritually or otherwise) you still have to turn around and break up the fight your kids are having over whatever toy has grabbed their attention. If you're having one of those days that make good 'ole Murphy look like an optimist, it's really hard to not be cheered up by your toddler's silly antics and megawatt smile.

I'll have a moment where God has ripped open my soul - and I have to stop, stuff all my emotions back inside, neatly zip them up - and go run to the bus stop to pick up my kids. Or, I'll be pouring out my heart in my journal (or blog) but I'll still have a bored toddler bouncing on me for attention, and a bored cat nipping at my ankles.

Sages are supposed to be unattached holy men sitting atop lonely mountains or wandering in barren deserts. They're not supposed to be moms of busy young children. Or so the world sees it. Used to have this problem in school too. It's not that I *can't* concentrate on algebra and the events that led up to WWII - but why would I *want* to when the sun is shining and the birds are singing and look! there's a beautiful Monarch butterfly over there on that flower?

My inner observer is always at work. I can't help myself. I'll be standing in line at the grocery store and find myself observing those around me and suddenly I'm off on a tangent wondering about the social implications of being attached to your cell phone or what life is like for moms in 3rd world countries who can't just drive over to the local grocery superstore to stock up on juice boxes and snacks.

It's become all the harder to do on this deep, rocky journey I find God leading me on. How does one dive deep and come up for air quickly? I've got many a spiritual case of "the bends" lately (diving sickness) from having to do that for the sake of the kids. Or the house, or the schedule, or whatever. Trying to walk around looking normal while inside my spirit is bleeding. I'm a very bad actor, evidently. People keep giving me funny looks - well, I always have worn my heart on my sleeve.

The best I can do is try to give myself permission - for a certain time only. Okay, this morning I'm allowed to dig deep and fall apart and let God put me back together. Check. Next item on the list. Now for the grocery shopping.

If only my brain had an off switch this would be so much easier....

The sign game

Recently we returned from our trip to West Virginia, where we spent some time camping. Camping is one of our favorite family vacations, and Blackwater Falls, WV is one of our favorite places to go. It is not an easy trip, however. Not just because we have to pack 300lbs. of camping gear and 5 people in our van, but the last third of the trip is over the river and through the woods by way of *lots* of switchbacks and elevation changes. I paid attention to the the signs this time - final elevation around the falls over 3,000 ft. above sea level. We live just out of the tidal basin that is Washington DC - yeah, pretty much *at* sea level here. And our daughter is prone to carsickness. And our faithful 13 year old van is prone to elevation sickness (or so it would seem - we always hold our breath that nothing will give way on the trip through the mountains).

So, one of my favorite ways to pass the time when I'm not driving is to read the street signs. I have often wondered whose job it is in any given area to come up with street names. Some of them probably made sense at one time - Old Mill Road - well, of course - at one time there was an old mill on the road and it was a good landmark. "Yeah, you just go down there by way of the old Mill road."

Some of the names are reminiscent of history - in Manassas there are lots of street names that refer back to the Civil War. One of my favorites that always gives me a giggle is Reb Yank Road - since I am originally a Yankee. Some of the names the locals just gave up and called a spade a spade - the main thoroughfare near our old apartment in PA just outside of Philly was, I kid you not, Street Road. First time I saw it I couldn't believe it. Come on, just a little creativity here? Somewhere on the PA turnpike (near Pittsburgh, I think) is a sign for Rodie Road. That one gave me the giggles too.

On the way up I saw a couple signs worth a laugh - like 3 Fox Lane. Why a number of foxes? Why only 3? Did they foxhunt out here at one time? And Lone Oak Road - among all these trees I see that one was a landmark? Really?

But the kicker came on the way back. Somewhere slightly west of Winchester, VA is saw a sign - in the middle of nowhere mind you - called....Glimpse of Heaven Lane!
You know, your first thought is, okaaaay....what was *that* person smoking at the time. It was this little lane that led up and over a small hill - okay - the view was fairly pretty, but a Glimpse of Heaven? Having just come down off a mountain with a spectacular falls that to me really *was* a glimpse of heaven - I found this truly puzzling.

I've decided that somewhere, in every city, town, and borough they have appointed a little old man or little old lady who sits in a tiny office at a tiny desk thinking up the most unusual street names they can to make a dull job more interesting - and to get a good laugh when the rest of us drive by looking puzzled. Because somebody decided there were too many Main Streets and First Streets in town, or something.

I mean, really - how else do you explain it?

Is it only me?

Or are there other folks out there who get stalled for dinner ideas in the summer time? It's ironic that in the winter, when I'm trying to juggle 5 schedules and everyone's appointments and barely have time for sleep, I *love* cooking. I spend my winter days dreaming of lovely soups and stews and casseroles that will nourish us body and soul. In the summer, when I have my time more to myself, and farmer's markets brimming with fresh produce - I not only don't want to cook, sometimes I barely want to eat.

Today, for example, it's almost 4PM and I've had the sum total of 2 cups of coffee, 1 small yogurt, and the half burrito I left in the fridge after yesterday's lunch. And, though I'm still slightly peckish, part of me can't think about food till it cools off some for crying out loud. August is usually the time I start fantasizing about moving to Maine, or Washington state, or North Dakota or anyplace that gets way too much snow in the winter but has temperate summers.

So anyway, I've been recycling dinner ideas all summer and have now reached my limit of pizza and salad, pasta and salad, tacos, burritos, hamburgers and hotdogs, and takeout. What I need is a my own personal food guru - someone who understands what children will actually eat - who could present me with a list of ideas for meals that don't involve 40 steps, 10 pots and pans, and 2 hours of prep work.

Maybe I'll take the kids out for sundaes and tell them it's Ice Cream for Dinner night - I'll be the most popular mom in the neighborhood!

It's so hot today that....

Today is a good day for all those old jokes. The ones about frying eggs on sidewalks and such. I've often wondered, on days like this, how anyone - especially the women -survived days like this before the invention of air-conditioning. Since we live right around the corner from an old Civil War battlefield my mind occasionally strays to thoughts of life around here back then. Life without highways and traffic jams, without technology and hustle-bustle. And without air-conditioning. Ugh.

Now, it certainly can get hot and humid in Pennsylvania - don't get me wrong. Summers in the Philadelphia area are no picnic either. But, oh Virginia. Northern Virginia - being part of the whole wetlands system/flood plain that is also Washington D.C. - has a very special brand of heat and humidity. Along with all the other humid southern states, it's the sort of weather that saps the energy out of you (well, me at least) even if I'm not actually outside. And if you *do* venture outside, the air drops down on you like a soggy fur coat.

Perhaps it was not so hot then - before most of the trees were cut down to make way for Suburbia's houses and strip-malls. Perhaps it was not so humid - before the smog of the 3 major East Coast cities started wafting down here to hold that humidity in. On the other hand - perhaps it was. And I'd be stuck here wearing about a dozen layers of clothing, doing heaps of back-breaking chores, cooking over a blazing fire or wood/coal stove, with no relief in sight. No wonder (well-born) ladies used to carry smelling salts with them and take naps in the afternoon to get relief from the heat and all that heavy clothing.

I have a few things that need to get done today - but I think I can allow myself the luxury of a few long breaks with a good book. And I'll be thankful for air-conditioning.