Rain

the song that single-handedly made me a Patty Griffin fan...

It's hard to listen to a hard hard heart
Beating close to mine
Pounding up against the stone and steel
Walls that I won't climb
Sometimes a hurt is so deep deep deep
You think that you're gonna drown
Sometimes all I can do is weep weep weep
With all this rain falling down

Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
But I'm holding on underneath this shroud
Rain

Its hard to know when to give up the fight
Some things you want will just never be right
Its never rained like it has tonight before
Now I don't want to beg you baby
For something maybe you could never give
I'm not looking for the rest of your life
I just want another chance to live

Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
But I'm still alive underneath this shroud
Rain

(Patty Griffin - "Rain" - from 1,000 Kisses)

"God is my co-pilot, and the Virgin Mary is my hot stewardess" (American Dad)

A Life Spent Reading (Pt. 1: Childhood Roots)

The other day I posted a picture of my book collection (most of it, anyway), and it got me wondering once again, how in the world did it get to this? Why do most of the people I know own just a few books, and I own over a thousand? Is there a rhyme or a reason to this exorbitant amount of literary accumulation?

For as long as I can remember, books and time spent reading have been an integral part of my life. In fact, some of my earliest memories are of my mother reading to me, her arms around me holding a book that we would both be looking at as she read and I either followed along or looked at the pictures while my imagination was carried off in the pages of books like The Velveteen Rabbit (one of my mother's favorites) and Where The Wild Things Are. My favorite childhood picture is of me, at 3 years old, sitting next to a record player with a book in front of me (only a bubble-pipe in my mouth could have made the picture any better). I like to think I was listening to music while reading (as I'm fond of saying that my life hasn't really changed since then), but I remember those books that came with a little record inside of them all too well. A narrator would read the book, usually along with wonderful sounds and character actors playing their part of the story. I had a whole shelf full of these, and I am grateful to my parents for so much encouragement in getting me to read so early in life. My mother even says that she used to read to me before I was born. She used to talk about her own love of reading as a child, saying she would often stay up all night and read a book (like White Fang) from start to finish, simply because she couldn't put it down. I remember how I was influenced by that idea and wanted to do the same thing, staying up well into the night, even that early, as a child, either in my room or in the blanket-tent/fort I would make in our living room on weekends, trying to read a book from start to finish. I usually couldn't make it through to the end the way my mother did, though. (One Saturday in 5th grade, I tried to read The Red Badge Of Courage straight through, and I have a distinct memory of wishing that book would end already, but plowing on in spite of my boredom with it. Even in childhood I was growing the roots of OCD that wouldn't let me not finish a book I started, no matter how much I wasn't enjoying it!)
My father was an English lit major during his first go at college, and in my later life now, I fully see the influence that had on me (at some point in recent years, I realized I was buying a lot of books that he already had copies of. Our interests in literature had begun to overlap). Our house always had shelves full of books, which I would play with as a child even before I was old enough to understand anything written inside of them. I think this early and constant, intimate and comfortable exposure to books certainly led to a development of a love for books themselves, as talismanic objects of wonder and enjoyment in my life. One of my favorite parts of the school year was the Scholastic book order. I can only vaguely remember anything I ordered from there (usually a Guinness book of world records was acquired yearly…something that may have subliminally led to my love of Guinness beer later in life), but I distinctly remember the thrill I felt when my stack of new books came in! (I still get something of that thrill as an adult through the magic of Amazon.com…) I also have summertime memories of joining the reading club at the library, where you would get prizes or something for reading a certain amount of books…

In 6th grade, in an otherwise educationally vacuous Christian school experience, I had one of the best teachers of my life. Mr. Wynn Clack was one of those teachers that you are proud to have known, someone who knew how to reach kids and get them interested in school in a way that is all too rare. One of the keys to his success was the freedom we had as students to pursue that which interested us. He had a love of history and had copies of historic newspaper front-pages hung up on the back wall that we could peruse and become familiar with without a single word of their history needing to be taught to us. We learned history because we were fascinated by these moments of history displayed before us. He loved photography, and we were allowed to bring cameras to class and take pictures at will. I took full advantage of this, possibly more than anyone else in the class, and have an album full of great childhood memories from that year. And Mr. Clack always gave us free reign of as much time as he could to read - whatever we wanted to read. Time spent reading in class was time well spent in his estimation, and looking back on my school years, I would say it was some of the best quality time I've ever spent in class. That was one year I truly loved going to school and looked forward to class time. That was also a transitional year for me in regards to my reading abilities and the kinds of books I was reading. The books I read were having a more profound (and sometimes embarrassingly silly) impact and effect on my life. I read my first C.S. Lewis book in 6th grade - an author who is still one of my top 5 favorites (I'll let you make the obvious guess as to "witch" book that was. Suffice it to say, playtime in the winter took on a whole new dimension in my imagination after that, with snow-covered tree landscapes transforming themselves into a place called Narnia). I read Johanna Spyri's "Heidi", and her description of the evening sky catching on fire developed in me the beginnings of a lifelong love of sunsets... (descriptions of the grandfathers meals for Heidi also inspired me to start snacking on cheese chunks with buttered bread and milk...one of those random odd influences literature can have on an open and impressionable young mind, and something I still do to this day). As a sort of counter-balance to reading Heidi, I read my first Mark Twain book, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer - a book whose influence on my life probably would have horrified my parents (I took to sneaking out of the house late at night sometimes to walk to the "cemetery" about a mile from our house. If you don't know why, read the book!). I fell in love with these books and the adventures they contained more than any books I had read before. I got lost in the worlds they depicted, and I reread Tom Sawyer a handful of times - it was my guide to life as a 6th grader. I still count it as an all-time favorite.

It wouldn't be until a couple years later that a book would influence me as much, and that book was one that would influence my entire life as a teenager. A book whose influence has been shared by millions of teenagers for the past few decades, written by an author whose few books opened up a world for teenagers the likes of which had never been portrayed in literature in that way before. A book about teens that didn't focus on prom-drama or dating or changing bodily functions, but rather one where the teens were in charge of their own lives, and authority was all but absent (the kind of world most teens dream about)... A legendary classic called The Outsiders…
(to be continued...)

The Books in My Life

some of my book collection. the books on the main shelf there on the left of the picture are all double-shelved. so there's a whole other case worth of books hiding back there! Unfortunately, most of my favourite books are hiding in the back behind what are probably more recent acquisitions that by default found an easy resting place in front. My near-if-not-complete collection of books by Buechner, Merton, Dillard, Nouwen, L'Engle, Percy, Dostoevsky, Flannery O'Conner, Charles Williams, and others are all hiding behind works of relatively lesser value to me. But I do love them all. the Stephen King collection is hiding in the dark of my closet where it seems to belong.
I put the shelves in the hallway up over Memorial Day weekend, and those are single-shelved (I used to have a double-shelved case there, but walking through the hallway was a bit tricky without turning sideways, so I bought some smaller shelves - suprisingly hard to find shelves that aren't a foot deep!). I have a couple hundred books elsewhere, but this is the bulk of my library.

River on Fire

I don't know where to stop with my youtube obsession, but I was just listening to this song by Adam Again and struck by how good it is and how well it holds up over the years, no matter which side of the CCM /secular divide you may be on. Christian rock has produced a lot of crap in its time, more than its fair share, but it has also produced some absolute gems that make it all worth listening to. this is one of those cannon classics that does it for me every time...

What would you say if you knew what I was thinking?
Maybe you do, but you know not to dig too deep
What if i knew what you needed for sure?
I've seen in your eyes you need more, much more
And I could be happy, and you could be miserable
I'll grab a metaphor out of the air
The Cuyahoga River on fire
What can you say? The impossible happens
What can you settle for?
What can you live without?
I remember the night I first darkened your door
And I swore that I loved you
My heart was pure
You could be happy, and I could be miserable
I'll grab a metaphor out of the air
The Cuyahoga River on fire
My open window, a dream in the dark
My fingers, your face
A spark, a trace...
I know a lot about the history of Cleveland, Ohio
Disasters that have happened there
Like the Cuyahoga River on fire

"What about love...?"

I love Youtube. Finally some video footage of possibly the most legendary Cornerstone concert ever. I remember the chills I got listening to this final song of the '93 fest, up on the hill, when Mike Knott came out in a full-blown clown outfit and sang one of the darkest songs in the CCM rock canon. The symbolism was genius, the screams chilling, and this show is still talked about as one of the highlights in Cornerstone's history 15 years later...

"There's nothing left but ashes where there was once a stolen kiss"

Sorry for the German guy intro, but I'd kill to have a copy of this whole Flevo concert from '89. Some of the best footage I've ever seen of Rez mowing the heads off the audience with their no-holds-barred classic rock onslaught. Rez was hands-down the biggest influence in my life and Christian faith from the first time I saw them back in '84 (where they gave me my first dose of a lifetime's worth of tinnitus) through my post-college years. I didn't get a chance to see them at Cornerstone this year where they performed a reunion concert, but I am planning on driving out to Muskeegon in early August to catch the only other reunion show they will be performing at the much cheaper, much closer, and much shorter "Unity Fest". I think their days of intense, high-energy aural assault are sadly long-over (as evidenced by what little footage I saw of the Cstone performance, with Wendi looking like she was performing for little kids rather than veteran rock fans, Stu just looks old, and John just looks tired), but I'll still enjoy the trip down memory lane... Until then, excuse me while I warm-up and psych-out with a few videos from the classic years...



"Regrets half-felt and sin half-loved...I say faith is just for fools...somebody tell me, what's the use?"
Another one from the same show, I think Rez does the mellow bluesier stuff just as good as the hard stuff, and the lyrics are always genuine and hit the mark for me. but don't take my word for it, I'm as biased about this band as they come!



"Angel-dust and tortured dreams say I'd be better dead"
This one is easily my favourite Rez song of all-time, and I was at this performance, down in the very front (as I usually was at most Rez shows). I'm still asking those questions, and sometimes I hear those voices (as we probably all do at one time or another). "You chase the shadows because your hopes and dreams have been lost to the night..."
from Cornerstone 1994:


And no Rez concert would be complete without a little "talk" from Glenn Kaiser. a segment that over the years (ever since Bootleg) has somewhat oddly been dubbed "Glenn's Rap":


and since I'm already loading up this post with enough video to make your computer come to a crashing halt trying to download it, I might as well throw in this little bonus clip just for fun. Evidence proving one reviewer's claim many years ago who wrote the classic line (in response to the general idea that Stryper was the first "Christian metal" band) that Rez band was playing metal when the members of Stryper were still playing with crayons! Think of it as the encore in my little Rez Band concert blog. A 10-minute window onto prime-era Resurrection Band, a full-on full-energy blast from the past that I kind of wish was audio-only (although that double-neck guitar is classic Stu!). This is the fashion of the 70's trying to merge with the 80's on a group of 60's Jesus Freak hippies, and it can be a little painful to look at for those of us who prefer our Rez band metal to be clothed in black leather. (I could really do without the Hawaiian(?) shirt is all I'm saying...)

You have less than 5 years to live...

Have you noticed that life seems to change drastically every 5 years? How many people can look back 5 years into their life and say everything is pretty much the same? Many things might be, but I'll bet that in many other very significant ways it is completely different. 5 years ago in my life, my grandmother was still alive and I was visiting her almost every week; my brother still lived in Ann Arbor and I would see him at least a few times a month (5 years before that he was still living at home in the room right next to mine. He now lives in New York); One of my best friends was living just across the city (he now lives across the country); I was talking with or hanging out almost every day with another close friend who I now hardly talk to more than a few minutes a couple times a month; And I still had a plausable amount of hair on my now bald head! (5 years before that I had hair almost down to my ass!) WTF!?!

and 5 years from now, Obama will be into his second term as president...
:-)

If you chance to look down and see how quickly the stream of time is passing by as you walk the balance beam of your life, you are apt to get rather dizzy and maybe even filled with panic. Maybe you didn't realize you were on a balance beam before you stopped, maybe you didn't realize how easily you could fall off, how easily everything you know could change. There have been many times in my life when I have gotten that feeling and wanted to hold on to something, to somehow stop life from slipping by so quickly (usually when life is about to change significantly, perhaps the loss in one way or another of a loved one, sometimes just from listening to a song that reflects on life's quick passing - usually something by UnderCover or Terry Taylor, maybe Rush's "Time Stand Still", something like that). But there really is nothing to hold on to. It doesn't do any good to try to hang on. We worry about death, but death happens to us all the time, all throughout our lives. Life as we know it ends, over and over again, and something new takes its place. The life we know now is not going to be here in 5 years. (although, in another sense, as Buechner says, every person we once were is still there living inside of us somewhere, only they get covered up and hidden more and more as time goes by). Do you have kids? This is the easiest way to see this. Think of a newborn completely dependant and helpless...now a 5 year old who can walk and talk and is probably started in some kind of school...now a 10 year old in 5th grade listening to the latest in moral-eroding rap music that would horrify you to think of a 5-year-old listening to...now a teenager taking drivers training, rebelling, living their own kind of life in their own private world with friends you probably don't approve of... now a young adult who can go off to war and get killed, or is more likely halfway through college at age 20...now (if all goes according to the plan) someone out on their own, working at a career...perhaps marriage, kids, etc etc... life just goes by so fast. can you believe each of those stages is just 5 years apart? 5 years is nothing. If someone told you you only had 5 years to live, you'd probably freak. but that's pretty close to the truth. Whoever you are right now will be no more in 5 years, whatever life you are living right now will no longer exist then. It's probably best not to look down and see how fast it's all flying by. People like me tend to get dizzy and a bit paralyzed when they realize it, whereas others don't think about it and just keep going along their merry way, living life as it comes and changes until they lose their balance and slip off the bar for good. And of course, as Tom Waits once said, eventually we all get to be dirt in the ground...

Merton's Mountain

I just finished reading Thomas Merton's Seven Storey Mountain. This is a very different book from anything else I've read by him, and I certainly would not recommend this as a starting point. Not that it's not good (it is very good), but unless you are already familiar with Merton's work and thought, what he's contributed to the literary canon of meditation on the spiritual life, you might find yourself wondering why you should care about the life he is writing about in this autobiography. This is one of the first books he wrote after joining the monestary, and its early origin is evident to someone more familiar with his later work. The most obvious example of this, to me, was the way he talked about other faiths and denomonations within Christendom. He has very little respect for the "opposing" denomonations, taking what come across as cheap-shots at their "erroneous" ways of understanding and practicing the faith, and speaks of Catholocism with an almost idolatrous reverence.

There is a great 10-minute biography of Merton's life here

"Worship the Lord. If necessary, use music" (Glenn Kaiser)

The best Over the Rhine video they never made

hard to believe this is an unofficial indie affair.

The Eyes of Love

A few nights ago I was sitting in this house with a few candles lighting the place, listening to Undercover's Balance of Power. I was reminded of a time nearly 2 decades ago, when this CD first came out, when I was listening to this same music blasting through the house as the night was getting late, lying in bed with 2 of my closest friends (don't ask because I'm not telling, except to say that the friend lying next to me was a hot girl...but I digress). One of the best songs on there is called Eyes of Love, and it's been sticking in my mind since playing it again the other night. "A million questions burning from the flame that melted you, begging for the answers, continue looking through the eyes of love..."

Continue looking through the eyes of love...This is one of the hardest things to do at a time when life seems determined to beat you down until you stay down. When I feel hurt or betrayed or simply left behind and "uninvited" by those I let my guard down for, those I let into my inner circle. Or sometimes just dealing with idiots in life. Idiots who often have the upper-hand, who are holding all the cards, who are in charge of things by what must surely be divine mismanagement. My first reaction to this sort of thing is anger. And bitterness (despite Paul's admonition not to let that root find soil). I ride (as Sixpence once put it) a "circle of error", in which my thoughts continue to circle back to the pain or percieved injustice I feel, trying somehow to articulate it or make sense of it. Begging for the answers, to the question "why?" or "how could this happen?". Or maybe just wanting things to be different. Wanting this to "shall pass" already. Not sure if the future holds anything better though. And then just when I needed to hear it, the lyrics to yet another profound Undercover song get stuck in my head and start to work on my heart and soul... "Continue looking through the Eyes of Love..."

It seems almost impossible to do sometimes, this admonition of Christ's to return good for evil, to pray for one's enemies, to love and pray for those who persecute you. Heck, just to love others period is a thought more than I can seem to manage at times. Trying to imagine what this looks like through the eyes of love. Trying to hold on to what Miroslav Volf calls the "Will to Embrace". But if I can somehow remove my thoughts from the mire they are in and look at the situation objectively, somehow look AT myself from OUTSIDE of myself, see what I look like in these circumstances, I have to ask myself, "what kind of person do I want to be?". Do I want to be a bitter angry man, kicking anything in my path and warning others with my whole way of being not to get too close? Are the knocks life doles out a legitimate reason to be this way, no matter how deep or hard or painful? The bitterness and rage become a sort of self-fulfilling prophesy after a time, inviting nothing but the same into one's life, a "circle of error". "Become like what you want to attract" as the saying goes.

There is, of course, a balance to be found here. One can't go around pretending to be happy while ignoring the pain one is experiencing. But, if one can find it, there is a peace and joy that goes deeper than any outward circumstance can affect...If you can find it. For me, reading Buddhist writers like Thich Nhat Hanh or Pema Chodron helps, or Christians like Henri Nouwen or Mother Teresa. People who have known the pain and trials of living while at the same time leading lives of deep love for others and for God. I see that it is possible, But as U2 once sang, "I still haven't found what I'm looking for".

All Quotes By: David Dark

"I suspect there's something a little demonic in finding others boring or unworthy of our interest."

"No so-called friendship that required the denying of another friendship could be worthy of the name, and any joy that required the exclusion of a peer would be forever illegitimate."

"...humans whipped into a frenzy of what they take to be righteous indignation (whether by waves of nationalism, party politics, or talk radio) often have an unfortunate habit of crucifying people."

" 'He died for me' is a moving phrase, but it's often also one way of drowning out the example of the life Jesus lived and the question of whether or not we dare to apply it to the way we conduct our own lives."

"There is a righteousness that transcends our percieved self-interest, and we get to pursue it in the hope that a better self-interest (not necessarily pragmatically verifiable) will follow. We get to live in hope of a better health than we're currently defending at all costs, including, perhaps, the forfeiture of our souls."

"it's always useful to keep in mind the difference between pessimism and realism in the service of truthfulness. There is a disillusionment that revels in self-satisfied navel-gazing and the insistence that there is no warmth or comfort to be found, but there's another kind (often mistaken for cynicism) that is merely holding out for the real thing."

"the Through-A-Glass-Darkly clause (dare to do our duty as we understand it) that marks all careful speech is witnessed in Lincoln's admonition that we can only speak, see, and understand fallibly. A determined awareness of our deficient imaginations will mark all talk of God, evil, freedom, and necessity (a difficult temptation in an election year), but if a nation or its leaders are to resist the drive to consider godlikeness as something to be grasped, this confession must never be cast aside."

"One peculiarity of the present age is that, in some cases, our powers of application are so compromised that we're incapable of recognizing as morally edifying anything that doesn't advertise itself as such."

Karen Armstrong

One of my favourite writers and speakers on the topic of religion.

Undercover in '93

Apologies for the sound on this fan recording, but I found this and had to post it. Of the 12 years I went to Cornerstone, and the hundreds of concerts I've seen there, this one from Undercover in '93 ranks easily in the Top 5 (probably surpassed only by Sixpence in '95 and LSU in '94, Over the Rhine in '96, and probably one of the many Rez shows. Iona in '94 was pretty freakin great too, but I think Undercover holds rank, I think even over the Mad at the World show I saw my first year! now I'm just rubbing salt in my friends wounds...). I was practically sitting on the main stage right in front of Gym during this one, whose guitar playing is simply legendary. An incredible concert from one of the all-time greats. (I was finally able to talk my friend Andrew into going to Cstone the following year, during which he exclaimed many times, "I can't believe I almost didn't come to this!")



And I both love and hate whoever posted this video - Love them because this is the only video I think I've ever seen of my very first year at Cstone, including clips of Mad at the World, Out of the Grey (mislabeled as Over the Rhine here), and Margaret Becker... and hate them because, are you freakin' kidding me? you have VIDEO of those concerts and you only post a few seconds of them in clips??!!??

"Remember to love your neighbor as you love yourself...and if you hate yourself, then please...just leave your neighbor alone" (Jon Stewart)

Peace is Every Step

Veronica (Remembering Nanny)

Three years ago, on the Sunday evening of this first weekend of April, My Grandmother passed away. She had been in a hospital or hospice bed for the previous 2-3 weeks, mostly sleeping, mostly out of it, mostly waiting to die. My Grandmother, in one way or another, had been waiting to die for just about the last 10 years of her life. My Grandfather had died in 1986, and shortly thereafter my Grandmother was practically coerced into making a rush decision to move out of her own apartment (where she and my Grandpa had lived for as long as I remember) to come live with one of her children, a decision based mostly in fear, justified or not. When she did that, she left most of her sense of independence and control behind, a decision she regretted for years afterward. She came to live at our house first, and during the years she lived here, I developed an even stronger connection and relationship with her than we had had before (which was always good). After she went to live with my Aunt (and Uncle before he died), I would come to visit with her almost every week. Many times we would have a lot to say, talking about the goings-on in the world, or in my life, or in the family, and many times she would share stories from her life. Many times, we would just sit there, often watching TV, with not much to say. But I knew those visits meant a lot to her, as they also meant a lot to me. I have so many childhood memories of my Grandma and Grandpa (Nanny and Papa to us). They would come over to babysit for us while my parents both went to work to support the life we had. They would bring a can of Franco-American Spaghetti over for my lunch, and we would watch Price is Right, followed by an afternoon of soap operas (All My Children, One Life to Live, General Hospital, and "as sands through the hourglass, so are the Days of Our Lives"…). Somewhere in there we would usually find time to play a game of cards, like War, or Go Fish…

That last weekend of her life, I had gone to Grand Rapids for Calvin's Faith & Music Festival. It was a long, good, and tiring weekend, with not much sleep to be had. My Grandmother was in my thoughts the whole time though, wondering if she would still be there when I got back, reminded not only by my thoughts, but also by the passing of the Pope that very same weekend. And she did hold on. She waited for me to get back, waited for me to say goodbye, to be there like I always hoped I could be in that moment. I drove the 3 hours back in the early evening alongside my close friend Carrie, who had driven out there separately for the festival as well. We were talking on the phone, planning on watching another Sopranos DVD that evening after we got back, debating whether we even had the energy to do so. When I was literally 2 miles away from the exit that would take me home, my dad called (with no idea where I was in my journey home) to tell me that they were still at the hospice, my parents and my aunt, that my grandmother was having a pretty bad day. I asked him if I should come over there (the hospice was literally one exit past mine. I was no more than 5 minutes away when he called after being 3 hours away all weekend). He said no, probably not, he'd call me if anything happened. After a moment's weary decision, I called my friend back to tell her I wouldn't be coming over for Sopranos night after all, and I headed for the hospice instead.

I walk into the room in which she lays, and my mother falls into my arms in grief, wracked with tears, watching her mother struggle for breath on her death bed…"Go to her, let her know that you're here. Maybe she'll be ok then…"

On the bed you lay, looking at me, maybe not seeing, but suffering, your breathing quick and rattled. I could already hear it when I walked toward your room. A death rattle has caught in your throat. You are dying before our eyes, your rosary wrapped around your hand. Can you feel it? Do you pray now? Or do you just struggle for an elusive breath? Can you feel my hands holding yours? Can you see me looking deep into your eyes, hoping for a glimpse of your soul? Occasionally you mouth words to me, you seem to be saying "help me". But the only help I can offer is all I am offering right now, just to be here by your side. I will share one more hour with you, and that is all we are given…

I am aware that these are your last moments, and instead of only being there with tears and grief, I remember to smile. and I know that you do see me, for I will never forget the smile you return to me. this is a better way to say goodbye. this is a better moment for both of us to remember...

Leaning back, I wonder how much longer this can go on. How long, oh Lord, will you torture her like this? Have Mercy on her, have Mercy oh Lord. Please have Mercy… It's all I really know how to pray. I lean back because I am tired. I lean back, not knowing how long we will be here with you, wondering how much I can take. I haven't slept for days. None of us here have.

It was only 2 weeks ago that I was praying a very different kind of prayer...after visiting for hours with you by your hospital bed, just sitting there, helplessly watching your withered body lay there uncomprehending and confused and wasting away, old and wrinkled and all the vitality drained away to leave this helpless suffering shell. I went out to my car in tears and I screamed at God in anger and disgust and horror stricken grief...I called him a sick fuck, that this is what he is "pleased" to bring us to after a life too short, that this is what he would bring my grandmother down to in her final days after her lifetime of devotion to him, what the fuck is he trying to prove?...and to this day, I don't know if that was blasphemy, or one of the most honest prayers I could have prayed...

Perhaps in some horrible, twisted way, the suffering of the dying is for the sake of loved ones still alive, so that instead of wondering "how could this be?" at the sudden death in the midst of a healthy life, we accept that "this must be" and we are ready for it to be over. It is a sick slight-of-hand trick on God's part, causing us to accept what should never be accepted...

I am here now, and your daughters are here too. Two daughters that have been with you, by your side, caring for you (for years now), praying for you, keeping vigil all day long. They are here now, and we will share this moment with you. You will not die alone, and for that I am grateful, for the strange perfect timing that brought me here to be with you right now...

I hold your hand, and I don't know what to say to you in this final moment with you, this last chance I will have to tell you anything I have to tell you, to say whatever it is I will wish I had said to you after you are gone. And I don't know what to say. "I love you…put your trust in God now". That's all I know how…

As we sit there with you, a loud growl comes from you suddenly, like you are giving it all to clear out that monster in your throat. And again. And then your chest slows its pace, it stops, but your heart beats on. And then a gasp for air…and still again. Looking off into the distance, do you see anything at all? You are still, and your heart beats on…Another gasp, involuntary, and you are still. The pulse, slows. It will come to a stop. And I wonder, is your mind the last to go, and how could we tell, and would you know?
Goodbye, Grandmother…

Goodbye, Nanny. Goodbye mother and father and sister and brother. Goodbye me. For you are now where one day I will be. You are now where one day all too soon we all will be, gasping for air, struggling, ending our days and our life. Just a few more days. Months, maybe even years, but moments all too soon. Death walks these halls, and though two others die here this very night, it never gets its fill. It looks to me…I'll get to you later. Or maybe not later…and for now, it is gone. For now it is only right here in the room with us…


I have a picture of you that haunts me now. In it, you are less than half my age, and now at more than twice my age, you are gone…

Birthday girl, sweet sixteen. "Come here, my daughter", your mother said to you, lying in a bed in your home like the one you lay in now, "when you come home from school today, I will have a surprise for you…" And when you come back home later that afternoon, you find your mother is dead. And now you, sweet Veronica, must take care of this family of yours…

You leaned out the window weeks ago and called out "please don't go daddy", but he left all the same, unable to deal with your mother's illness…
From a rooftop he fell, and now they are gone. And now, tonight, you join them. Less than 80 years ago, between then and now, and here you are, dead like them like you never dreamed back then you could be. Like I never dreamed I could be one day too.

…And so I look at that picture again, of you and your friends at an all-night dance marathon, at the height of the roaring 20's (what a time to be alive!)…and I realize it wasn't all fun and games for you even then, even dancing the night away. You needed the money they were playing for. You needed to win to do what you could to take care of your home…What I wouldn't give to have known you back then. The 20's. What a time to be alive…what a hard, hard time to be alive…


When Dawn
then Dusk
and Darkened Sky
exchange their hue
for one last time
if all we've said
is just Goodbye
with one last day
to live our lives
I'll hold your hand
gaze in your eyes
and pray
Mercy
a thousand times
'till all we've left
are tears to dry
at daybreak
on the other side

Angel Tread

Wow. This brings back some memories. I didn't realize they had made any videos for this album. This Beautiful Mess was such an important part of my life for years back when it came out more than a decade ago. It was literally the soundtrack to my life in the mid-90's (along with a small handfull of others, most notably Over the Rhine and Vigilantes of Love), and I was a total Sixpence None the Richer groupie back then. I had been a fan since the beginning, but when I saw Tess on stage with the group for the first time (just before this CD came out), I knew something special was about to take place. It's so rare for music to just reach in and take ahold of your heart and soul and become such an essential part of your life like this did for me. Out of the 4,000 CDs I own, this one is probably second only to Over the Rhine's Good Dog Bad Dog, and usually sharing the "musical trinity" top spot with Sarah Masen's Dreamlife of Angels. definitely a top-fiver of all-time disc for me. I still think the music they made was incredible and stands the test of time amazingly well. and they're getting back together and playing Cornerstone this year! Hopefully I'll be there...and if Tess is with them, I'll probably pass out after I pee my shorts and scream like a little girl...

Rev. Wright

I suppose I should, in some weird and twisted way, be grateful to the news media for bringing this pastor to my attention. This might hurt my chances of becoming president one day, but I like this guy and what he has to say (not everything he says by any means, I'm sure, but I thought this was really good). What I don't like so much, and have a growing intolerance for, is the insistence on the part of "political warmongers" to misconstrue another's words and then attack that misconstrual as though representative of that person. Growing up in an Evangelical Christian subculture, I developed an intolerance for Christians who would take a bible verse completely out of context and then use it to rationalize or justify whatever screwball idea they had about God or how to live (one that comes immediately to mind is the rationalization that speaking in tongues is somehow the pinnacle of one's faith, when the scripture that this comes from actually says almost the opposite). We see this all the time in the political "silly season" (as Obama refers to it), this ripping statements out of context in order to tear down opponents, arguments pretty much based in lies (misconstruing, misrepresenting another's words and thoughts). God forbid anyone shouting against Reverend Wright should actually sit and listen to more than an out-of-context soundbite before they make a sweeping judgement of the man and anyone he associates with. Here's a fuller context of one of the minor "inflammatory" things he had to say:

Obama does it again

Have we heard a more excellent presidential speech in our lifetime? What a refreshing change it will be to have this man in the White House...

Wholeness / Holiness

A thought on the nature of Wholeness (or Holiness)...
It doesn't mean being completely independent in the way we usually think of that term - not needing anyone or anything else. In fact, I would suggest that Wholeness involves a balanced connection with others; Aspects of ourselves that are outside of ourselves; To be "hole-y", having empty places in our being that can only be filled by something or someone outside of ourselves. To know ourselves is to know where our empty places are; it is to see where and how others fit into our being. Think of anyone in your life whom you love deeply - can you imagine your life being whole or complete without them? Without your son or daughter? Without your parents? Without your husband or wife? Without your brother or sister? When someone we love leaves us, or dies, is not the most universal feeling one of emptiness? A part of ourselves is no longer there, and it is only right that we should feel that hollow place, and also right to say that no one will ever be able to fill that space in us again. No other could ever take the place of a loved one lost. (This is one of the reasons why the story of Job bothers me so much)

I recently heard someone say something along these lines: "I only need God, even if everyone else leaves me. My relationship with God is all that really matters". This is, in my opinion, unbalanced and unbiblical. To reject not only the centrality of the church in the Christian experience, but to deny God's own claim in Genesis that "it is not good for man to be alone". I would also suggest that if one's relationship with others is non-existent, then one's relationship with God probably isn't much better (Desert Fathers notwithstanding - But even the religious solitary will say that they do not live the life of solitude to get away from people, but rather in order to better serve and love others and the church in their unique calling).

Love involves not only giving, but receiving. Only in both is there whole love. To give and not need to receive is another form of selfishness.

To quote U2, there is a "God-shaped hole" in us that can only be filled spiritually, by God. And similarly, there is an empty place in us that can only be filled by those we love & who love us. Contrary to what some may say or claim, God does not fill that void, only our loved ones can. God was not satisfied just to have a relationship with Adam, God insisted that Adam also have a relationship with Eve, as well as insisting they have children. We may mean well when we advise others in their grief and loss to turn to God and lean on him for strength and comfort, but let's be careful that we don't imply that he will fill that emptiness inside of them. That is a place that will always be there. Part of our fallen state is living with emptiness, hoping in a day when God will restore all things.

It is an easy temptation to go from needing others and God to fill those proper places in us, to trying to get them to fit into empty places they are not and were never meant to fill. Receiving love can easily become an overbearing clinging and demandingness for the other to fill all our needs (often without regard for their particular needs, even those we can legitimately fill).

We don't like that feeling of emptiness, and part of our fallen nature is to try to fill that emptiness with all manner of distractions so that we don't have to feel what can never, for now, be filled. Something to remember and think on when we see the alcoholic, the drug addicted, the sexual deviants and adulterers, the depressed, the obsessive/compulsive, the demented, those lost and wandering, even the criminal and violent. They are no different from us. There is emptiness within all of us that we all rage against in our own particular ways, socially acceptable or not.

-----------------------------------------------------

There is a desperation in everything meaningful we try to partake in... We want a real relationship with God, the ultimate reality, and instead the experience of so many of us is an unreality in relation to God. An Absence. A deep longing to embrace God, to love and live in his presence...yet an unfulfilled longing that finds us embracing our own imaginings. I despair because I want to be loved, and I don't know if I am. And my experience and flawed understanding both tell me I am not - not in the deep, fulfilling way that I long for. What kind of real, solid, loving relationship is experienced in the abstract only? Seeing in circumstance the hand of God - Loving? Angry? What does this good or bad really mean?

We seek to fulfill our longings, our emptiness, with human companionship, love, and we so often end in a clinging, controlling wreck...


(and that's my happy thought for the day...)

Military-family support for Obama

Frank Schaeffer (son of the legendary Francis A.) has this to say about why, as a lifelong Republican, he is supporting Obama this time around. (Read the whole article here)

This year the Republicans can't count on the military family's vote. Because Obama was right about Iraq, he may become the candidate of choice for far more pro-military voters than pundits might expect. Note: Since Senator Clinton voted for the war in Iraq she doesn't present a clear alternative to McCain or to the Republican Party. Of the Democratic candidates only Senator Obama has a chance to win the support of the military family. Here's why and here's how.

If McCain would only say what I suspect he believes -- that the Iraq war was a tragic mistake, that his support was a mistake and that our policy should be to take responsibility for the mess we've made, but that the best we can do is get out of Iraq as fast as is possible while causing as little harm as possible -- I (and others who mourn Bush's folly) might vote for him. Instead he is talking about "winning" and staying in Iraq for many years. How do you win a war you never should have started which was based on misinformation that morphed into outright lies?

McCain is face-saving and pandering to the Republican base at the expense of our military family. (Disclosure: In 2000 I went on several radio shows to argue for McCain's candidacy. A few years later McCain wrote a kind endorsement for one of my military-related books. I think it is a national tragedy that the Republican establishment destroyed his chances in 2000. Had he been president on 9/11 I'm sure that however he reacted to the attack on America that his actions would never have included invading Iraq.)

It makes me sad that I can't support McCain but I can't because the Republicans and Democrats share something besides trying to figure out what to do about Iraq. Both parties share a primary election system in which the ideological fringes have outsized importance. To get the nomination, candidates pander to the extremes. This pandering has fatally undermined any Republican's ability to lead us out of the mess Bush made.

Obama panders too when he promises we'll be out of Iraq in a year or so. He knows this is fiction. But Obama's pandering to his base is less dangerous than McCain's "never surrender!" pandering. That's because the ideological fringe of the Democratic Party is less dangerous than the ideologically extreme wing of the Republican Party.

The Democratic ideologues are merely unrealistic idealists, the sorts of village idiots that picket Marine recruiters in Berkeley. The Republican ideologues are bellicose warmongers who tarnish America's reputation and get our people killed. They are the torture enthusiasts, the war-of-choice enthusiasts, the radio talk show jerks who send other people's children to wars their own kids don't volunteer for. The Republican fringe goads America into acting like a bully. They are believers in a form of American exceptionalism that -- spewed by bizarre apocalypse-obsessed religious right evangelicals and/or Dr. Strangelove neocons -- is a jingoistic, toxic, fear-driven myth of "they" against "us" that if unstopped, will result in wars without end. And above all the Republican fringe isn't a fringe at all: they've become the heart and soul of the ugly fear-mesmerized party in power.

Republicans may talk about patriotism and honor but in fact through their stubborn support for Bush's war they have become our military's worst enemies. They literally get our men and women killed. But many of us in the military family have had it with the Republican's bellicose nonsense -- Bush's "Bring it on!" and now McCain's version; "I'll chase bin Laden to the gates of hell!" Enough is enough.

Darfur: Raising Awareness

The discussion on this video actually made me cry...
Awareness of the problem of Darfur is so important right now, and I just wanted to do my part in some small way to help.
(I feel better about it already...)
(*ahem*)



How Can We Raise Awareness In Darfur Of How Much We're Doing For Them?

Obama '08, pt.2

This speech is probably one of the best examples of why I am so thrilled that this guy is in the public arena at all, much less gaining much hope-filled momentum towards becoming our next president.

(UPDATE: I changed to a link rather than embedding it because it was taking up too much space and messing up my blog page layout. Still a great speach though, well worth the time to go and watch)