Filed under: Family, Living, Music | Tags: Gene Kelly, MeWithoutYou, Singing in the Rain, Torches
It’s only in the tiny posted date that the difference of numbers is revealed. These three months have beheld more significance than those hidden numbers could ever know.
I have not changed much, from the person I was in springtime. Although, I have become more passionate about adoption, and I have a car. Also, I have beaten the highest records for two different tetris games.
Why was Christmas this year so ungratifying? Those horror stories about families at Christmastime seemed to have foretold this year’s Christmas for my family. The kind of drama that makes a total straightedge pull out the bottle!
Goals for the rest of this winter break:
- Biking and swimming nonstop
- Job-searching like hell is chasing my bank account
- Create and give: music, arts, and time
- Sell crocheted goods
- Spend time with Jesus
- Continue to forget what is behind, and press on toward the goal of the upward calling of God in Christ Jesus, in every task and opportunity
I now end with a MeWithoutYou lyrical experience:
Why burn poor and lonely under a bowl or under a lampshade
Or on the shelf beside the bed
Where at night you lay turning like a door on its hinges?
First on your left side, then on your right side.. then your left side again.
Why burn poor and lonely?
Tell all the stones we’re gonna make a building…
We’ll be cut into shape and set into place
Or if you’d rather be a window, I’ll gladly be the frame,
Reflecting any kind words, we’ll let in all their blame…
And ruin our reputation all the same.
Se never mind our plan making, we’ll start living…
Anyway, aren’t you unbearably sad?
Then why burn so poor and lonely?
We’ll be like torches!
We’ll be like torches!
We’ll be like torches… OH!!
We’ll be torchest together… TORCHES TOGETHER
We’ll be like torches… with whatever respect our tattered dignity demands,
Torches together, hand in hand
Why pluck one string… what good is just one note?
Oh, one string sounds fine, I guess… but we were once ‘one notes’,
We were lonely wheat quietly ground into grain…
What light and momentary pain!
So why the safe distance, this curious look?
Why tear out the single pages when you can throw away the book?
Why pluck one string when you can strum the guitar?
Strum the guitar!
Strum the guitar… with no beginning, with no end.
Take down the guitar and strum the guitar!
Strum the guitar if you’re afraid.
And I’m afraid and everyone’s afraid and everyone knows it,
But we don’t have to be afraid anymore.
You played the flute, but no one was dancing,
You sang a sad song.. but none of us cried.
you played the flute, but no one was dancing,
And you sang a sad song… you sang such a sad song.
What a glorious feeling
While there have been countless opportunities for me to pursue something that reflects who I am, I have not ever felt more myself than now. Sure, there are conversations to be had, and a bridge to be repaired, but so far, being in a relationship with Jonathan makes me finally feel like I am on my way home.
I have always felt like something was weird about the word “home.” At the first house I remember living in, the one we lived in for 10 years, I constantly felt like I wanted to “go home” even when I was already there. And even though I had friends in my neighborhood, and I loved my neighbors’ pets, I was always ready for the adventure of moving to a different place, maybe a place that felt like home. Now that I am in college, I feel comfortable saying that San Diego is “home,” but more like a home base than home. And really, Biola is also home to me.
I have a whole playlist in iTunes for songs that pursue the concept of home, only because I am searching for anyone’s discoveries of the meaning of home, that will help me understand where home really is for me.
For the search, Simon and Garfunkle have it right:
Tonight I’ll sing my songs again
I’ll play the game and pretend
But all my words come back to me
In shades of mediocrity
Like emptiness in harmony
I need someone to comfort me
Homeward bound, I wish I was
Homeward bound
Songs have always helped me, but sometimes when I never feel at home, the songs only reflect a sad mediocrity. So then, for the songs that discover home, I have Paul Simon’s “That’s Where I belong”:
When I see you smiling
When I hear you singing
Lavender and roses
Every ending a beginningThat’s the way it is
I don’t know why
Ay ay ay
But that’s where I belong
So, in my last post I was searching for my true feelings. I wanted to be certain about Jon’s. I wanted to be certain of our families’ approval. I had a long conversation with my mom, his mom (Momma Sue), and finally, with him. And then I had a conversation with him every night to follow until he came to see me again. And on Sunday when he asked me to be his girlfriend, it was crazy. Crazy in a good way, for the peace I felt, moreso than I have ever felt before. Crazy for the ways that we connected on so many levels, afterso many years of knowing each other. (Something like 21 years, since that is how long I have been alive in the church we have both always gone to!)
There are so many conversations to be had, and so many things I am excited to pursue with him. We are going to read a Charles Williams book together, and I am planning to visit him in Japan where he is stationed.
So here is a picture or two that seem to reflect how perfect we are for each other so far: Looking adventurous, looking happy, and one picture of us holding the crocheted monkey that I made for Jon, which we appropriately named Yawn.
Thanks to Andrea, I am left speechless by this beauty:
Actually I have found a new spot to promote the creative genius of crochet: ravelry.com
My account name on the site is shareshare (just like on etsy.com)
I found this pattern for a hat that I made for my roommate’s mom, who always takes good care of us! I used blue Caron One Lb. yarn, and followed this pattern: Divine hat. My laptop’s webcam is such bad quality, but here is how mine turned out! And included are two other scarves I’ve been working on.
Filed under: College Classes., God, Living, Music, Relationships | Tags: Jane Eyre, Paul Simon
While listening to “Everything About It Is A Love Song,” I try to remember the reason for wanting to write this post. Memory is a funny game, and after a day like today, I am clearly on a losing streak.
Yesterday my Torrey group discussed Jane Eyre, concluding that Jane grew strong and mature. She subjected herself to poverty before giving in to depravity of affection. She saw all her situations as opportunities of providing her worth in life. Never satisfied with her own poor performance, she sought to best serve her companions in life. Her work, her love, and her relationships were top quality, outweighing the merit of Chuck Norris (as Dr. Reynolds so aptly tweeted).
So I’m praising God to feel so free from relational disillusionment, to find strength in virtue of Jane’s character. Satisfaction surrounds genuine patience, so here I wait, learning to know God more. During this crazy long week, I have again found satisfaction in knowing God and knowing that my home is in Him. I am not Sharon, without the things that I do, and I am not God’s without surrendering all those things to Him.
“Everything About It Is A Love Song”
Locked in a struggle for the right combination of words in a melody line
I took a walk along the riverbank of my imagination
Golden clouds were shuffling the sunshine
But if I ever get back to the twentieth century
Guess I’ll have to pay off some debts
Open the book of my vanishing memory
With its catalogue of regrets
Stand up for the deeds I did
And those I didn’t do
Sit down, shut up, think about God
And wait for the hour of my rescue
We don’t mean to mess things up
But mess them up we do
And then it’s “Oh, I’m sorry”
Here’s a smiling photograph of love it was new
At a birthday party
Make a wish and close your eyes: surprise, surprise, surprise
Early December, and brown as a sparrow
Frost creeping over the pond
I shoot a thought into the future
And it flies like an arrow
Through my lifetime, and beyond
If I ever come back as a tree, or a crow
Or even the wind-blown dust
Find me on the ancient road in the song when the wires are hushed
Hurry on and remember me, as I’ll remember you
Far above the the gold clouds, the darkness vibrates
The earth is blue
And everything about it is a love song
Everything about it
Everything about it is a love song
Everything about it
-Paul Simon
Since I led my Torrey session last week, it is now my turn to lead devotions today. Others have done it. I think that I will be fine. Some have things to say, some are meditative, some are complaints about life. I want to share song. I want to express our loyalty and togetherness in Christ, in the face of the unity of kingdoms, and dissolutions of families we experience during our Torrey session. I had just led a 3-hour discussion on 1&2 Samuel (so I really don’t feel a need to ramble about anything today), and this week a classmate will lead session on 1&2 Kings.
The Chasing Song
By Andrew Peterson
Now and then these feet just take to wandering
Now and then I prop them up at home
Sometimes I think about the consequences
Sometimes I don’tWell, I realize that falling down ain’t graceful
But I thank the Lord that falling’s full of grace
Sometimes I take my eyes off Jesus
And you know that’s all it takesWell, I wish that I could say that at the close of every day
I was happy with the way that I’m behaving‘Cause Job, he chased an answer
The wise men chased the Child
Jacob chased her fourteen years
And he captured Rachel’s smile
And Moses chased the Promised Land
Joseph chased a dream
David, he chased God’s own heart
All I ever seem to chase is meWell, they say a race can only have one winner
And you know you’ve got to pull out front to win
God knows the only time I’m winning
Is when I’m chasing HimSo, I wish that I could say that at the close of every day
I was happy with the way that I’m behaving‘Cause Samson chased a woman
And he chased the Phillistines
I’m not quite sure what Jonah chased
But I know he caught the sea
And Cain, he chased the harvest
While Abel chased the beasts
David, he chased God’s own heart
All I ever seem to chase is meAnd Jesus chased the money men
And He chased His Father’s will
He chased my sin to Calvary
And He caught it on that hill
And Saul, he chased the Christians
‘Til his blindness made him see
David, he chased God’s own heart
All I ever seem to chase is me
While there is much time to think about our short-comings, about the mistakes of great men (or those not so great), “all I ever seem to chase is me.” The race’s only winner is the one that pulls out front, and for each individual, the end mark is not our own perfection. It’s God’s own heart. The stories of old that we will discuss today each have some significance in light of the story of Jesus. Lest we chase after any other ultimate perspective, I pray that beginning our long discussion with this Andrew Peterson experience will set the tone.
Filed under: College Classes., Family, God, Living, Music, Poetry, Relationships | Tags: Andrew Peterson, Bible, Billy Collins, Frank Lloyd Wright, Jonathan Edwards, Kant, Samuel Coleridge, Simon & Garfunkle
In an effort to write out some thoughts like a an artist of words, I typed out this choppy thought process. There was no intention to rhyme, and no intention for this to make sense to the common eye, but this is my poem to reflect my thoughts after a long, unaccomplished day of work, paperwork, homework, classes, conversations brutally cut short, frustrating volleyball games, spiritual introspection and reflection, and roommate meetings.
Midnight Affections in Partial Coherence
Restless eyes with big ideas
Search for an open eye to share the ideas
Sharing the laughter
Sharing affectionate conversation
Withholding insecurity for the sake of sanity
And naturally the sanity follows
The kind looks and words from friends
Legitimacy in relationship is better than the pain of introspection
Light of the Spirit to guide and to nourish
Friends of Christ in togetherness
When I find myself on the bridge over troubled waters
And say to myself that I am the silver girl
And say so long, and prepare to jump,
Who is to keep me there except the false light
Even over thinking the future will toss one over the edge
The troubled waters have enough to handle
Without one more body of intricacy and mess
And friends would become lonely also
As Frank Lloyd Wright is to the Fallingwater
So Sharon is to the CPA and to schedules
So experience is bred, but also distraction
Homework left undone
And friends neglected severely
The pithy phrases of the philosophers
And the affections of musicians
Can only give me something to hang a coat on
Wesley’s forced perfection
Edwards’s saving affection
Kant’s empirical madness
Coleridge’s feisty wording
Samuel’s peaceful sanctity
Education and friendship and home
Speaking implies tongues of understanding
Consideration allows communication
Poetry necessitates coherence
Like coffee beans need a filter
Like uphill biking needs strong legs
Time to let the man on the moon smile
To love the dark earth
To ride the night’s full horizon
To break into song and sing me to sleep
And here is a thorough tribute to Billy Collins for the sake of his quote:
The Man in the Moon
He used to frighten me in the nights of childhood,
The wide adult face, enormous, stern, aloft.
I could not imagine such loneliness, such coldness.
But tonight as I drive home over these hilly roads
I see him sinking behind stands of winter trees
And rising again to show his familiar face.
And when he comes into full view over open fields
He looks like a young man who has fallen in love
With the dark earth,
A pale bachelor, well-groomed and full of melancholy,
His round mouth open
As if he had just broken into song.
I said, "I will guard my ways,
Lest I sin with my tongue;
I will restrain my mouth with a muzzle,
While the wicked are before me.""
I was mute with silence,
I held my peace even from good;
And my sorrow was stirred up.
My heart was hot within me;
While I was musing, the fire burned.
Then I spoke with my tongue:
"LORD, make me to know my end,
And what is the measure of my days,
That I may know how frail I am.
Indeed, You have made my days as handbreadths,
And my age is as nothing before You;
Certainly every man at his best state is but vapor.
Surely every man walks about like a shadow;
Surely they busy themselves in vain;
He heaps up richerrs,
And does not know who will gather them.
"And now, Lord, what do I wait for?
My hope is in You.
Deliver me from all my transgressions;
Do not make me the reproach of the foolish.
I was mute, I did not open my mouth,
Because it was You who did it. Remove Your plague from me;
I am consumed by the blow of Your hand.
When with rebukes You correct man for iniquity,
You make his beauty melt away like a moth;
Surely evey man is vapor.
Hear my prayer, O LORD,
And give ear to my cry;
Do not be silent at my tears;
For I am a stranger with You,
A sojourner, as all my fathers were.
Remove Your gaze from me, that I may regain strength,
Before I go away and am no more."
Psalm 39
Look up "It was Supposed to be so Easy" by the Streets.
Finally I am hearing those sounds, the songs of Jon Foreman and Sean Watkins. Fiction Family. What a perfect way to end the day. Finally letting out my sobs and hearing the harmonies so appropo to my heart.
However many times I leave my dorm room, every time I walk away, I know I cannot come back without some kind of change or some new direction for my soul. And this last week has held some of the most incredible changes ever. Excuse my silliness, but stress and wonderful days combined have made me tumble totally down this hill of soft patches and brambles. Here I sit, wondering who I am, wondering what I should do with myself, and wondering what someone else may be thinking too.
Hamlet had an identity crisis, being a part of royal scandal and having the power of directing circumstances like a play. He made sure to prove his purpose by directing his play and taking vengeance. My story is much the opposite. By hell, I could never dare to take this situation in my own hands, just to see something so wonderful and confusing crumble away. Hamlet asks, “To be, or not to be?” and here I sit, in silence. I wonder, what happens next? What happens to a heart that has reached a point so very high, and is now being held midair in space somewhere? Lest I fall to the wiles of insanity, I must simply work, sleep, and wait. And wait.
God help me, that I would not lose friends or forget the unmistakable truth I have in God, in all of this. Though I may be intoxicated in this drama, I feel the shrillest highs and lowest lows, and scanning the radio, a song has brought me home.
We Ride
Sunrise over troubled waters, over troubled fathers
Of the sun
Of sun and sand.
Steady now,
You’re the loosest cannon
Not yet a man, but we’re not children
We’re not kids any more.
And we ride
We ride, we ride
Down these living scenes
Down these living scenes, down these living scenes.
The winter comes, and the deep is free
Turn clever fleece to steal the breath from angry scenes.
Hold me down
Blood meets water
Time is black white brought blue until you breathe
Breathe.
And we ride, we ride we ride
Down these living scenes.
I’m these living scenes.
~Jon Foreman and Sean Watkins, 
Tonight I babysat my two boys again: Jake and Dylan. They are absolutely adorable, but the older, Jake, always has a lot of personality issues. He is already developing his mom’s OCD perfectionism about EVERY part of the day; when I am babysitting and start putting him to bed, I can’t break any detail of the bedtime routine or else he flips out. So tonight I just decided to help him forget that his parent’s weren’t there. We read a book about snowmen coming alive at night, and he started telling me that snowmen never actually move. They don’t really do anything at night or ever. They just melt. Well, deciding that he is much too practical for a child, I decided to tell both of the boys stories about each of their toys and stuffed animals coming alive at night. I talked about their piggy-banks going to casinos to gamble with their money and then win it back, and about all the stuffed animals having parties every night. I told them that their strobe light was hidden in the carpet somewhere. The more stories I told them, the more interested they seemed, and I almost believed myself. Every kid needs a good dose of curious imagination. And Jake didn’t cry tonight.
On another note, some people say that it’s not easy to spend time with an ex. I am really hoping to prove that wrong. Tonight after talking about when I would see David again, I had to have a good rock-out session on my drive home. Almost midnight and fighting a headache, Regina Spektor led me in song shouting the lyrics to “fidelity” at the top of my lungs. ” I never loved nobody fully. Always one foot out the door. And by protecting my heart fully, Igot lost in the sounds I hear in my mind, all these voices, I hear in my mind, all these words, all these words, and it breaks my hear-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-t. suppose I never ever met you. suppose we never fell in love… Supoose I never ever saw you, suppose we never ever called. Suppose I kept on singing love songs just to break my own fall… All my friends say that of course it”s going to get betterbetterbetterbetterbetterbetter!…”
I hear in my mind a lot of music and sounds and heaviness and lightness and depth and light. There is a lot of pain and a lot of healing, a lot of joy and a lot of confusion. And while I sit and ponder or drive and sing or crochet and think, all the sounds keep me company. Old friends now call me a crazy Christian. It’s pretty interesting what jobs and coworkers do to people. CS Lewis said that every decision turns you to either be more like a child of hell or more like a child of heaven. Every decision. I think that goes for experiences with people. Every person you encounter effects who you become.
We Leave with Nothing but Love 