I talked to my friend today. She is struggling. Her mom died two years ago. They were besties as mom’s can be. The love of her life left her and was married soon after. She lost her dog, and now her father is dying. I feel her pain, and yet I don’t. My parents are alive and well, even my grandmother. My life is full with children and dogs, even a healthy 15 year old malti-poo.
My husband is the bomb. Wow, life is weird and God is complicated. I talk, I listen, I engage. I know she needs this space, and I am that room. I have experienced loss, but not so close. My loss in general seemed to fall in the right order — those who have lived long and full lives who have come to the end of their road. There was Jonathan, and that was tough and unexpected. Still, not the same. It seems different than losing a parent, on the young side, at least in modern terms.
I do feel her pain, because she is my friend and I love her, but I can never fully understand the depth of feeling that all these life changes are bringing her. I share her moment as that is what there is to do, what is needed, and where God has placed me.
My Soren sings cheerily in the background as I write. This AM, he serenaded me before school with an “I love mommy” song. I know I need to cherish these moments, and pray he will not be a teenager that hates his parents. I think for the zillionth time, we really need to get that kid in music classes. Where am I going with any of this anyway?
So I came down to let the dog in; now I am half pajama / half-blouse, and feeling too tired to deal with any of it, let alone dental hygiene. But I will get there, God willing in time, after a little writing.Tomorrow is yoga, then the State fair. My anxiety is high, teaching two classes and then singing solo Sunday. I live in a two fold trauma — a catch twenty-two, which laughs as I suffer. Stuff to do means anxiety; no stuff to do means I count the hours. What to do?
I create a routine, something physical, something spiritual, (practice) home, kids, animals, life in my midst. God says that's where it is, so that is where I go. I am preparing for a concert in February, all music theater. It’s so low; my voice is so different than in opera there. New territory, yet old hat, my roots. New and old. Hmmm, wish I felt bold.
So I finally decided to commit to posting, even if I am not sure exactly what my point is. I will post if it is too much or not enough. I will post. God has another plan — my posts won’t post, or rather, they won’t send once they are posted. We don’t know why, what happened, what changed. Something did change though, both inside me and with the mystery of computers which have a mind of their own.
Life is good — routine, predictability with the occasional unusual or new thrown in. Singing at the historic Robert E. Lee church was fun and went well. I was told by one person she was "starstruck" the minute I began to sing. I honestly think that may be one of my all time favorite compliments. Another woman took a video, and so I sang to her, because why not. I mean, she was filming. I amped up the expression and gave the fullness of the text to my heart. I sang Panis Angelicus, but an English version. Oh Lord most Merciful, Oh Lord Most Bountiful, Lord of heaven and earth. Yes, it all felt so genuine so true. This lovely lady presented me with a beautiful bouquet of flowers after the service.
Aside from all this beauty, it was truly a strange service. The congregation is dwindling. There were maybe twenty people. We were there because they lost their organist recently to another church. I know Charles well, and he was a gift beyond measure for many years. I can understand why he went to a better job, a more promising future. The interim preacher was preaching and it was actually his last day. The sermon was puzzling. It was a goodbye and an admission of being old and being tired. I guess that would be awkward enough, but he went on to basically say how he had drawers of sermons he now found useless and decided to throw away. He seemed to say he was throwing away his religiosity at this stage in the game.
Somehow it all seemed futile now, but what mattered was this moment. The magic that happens in the moment, in the space. The unpredictable energy that a moment in time brings. I like and resonate with that idea. The other part frankly seemed a bit sad. What has caused this man to lose so much faith at the end of his career that the rest no longer matters? There was not much about the gospel reading with Lazarus, except a general idea that Jesus shows us a mirror to ourselves. He mentioned that he shows us our own glory that we do not necessarily see. Almost like he shows us the potential of all that is good and he already sees that in us. I like this idea and can see his point. But Jesus also holds the mirror and some sharp words at times to the other side too, to the parts of us that are not so pretty. I wonder if some of this man's despondency has to do with a one-sided perspective. Only focusing on the love of Jesus and not the hard job of repenting of the not-so-lovely parts.
Can it be when we water something down to make it more pleasing, and ignore the complete balance, something is lost? At first, maybe it gels with our desire for empathy and compassion; but does it lack the backbone to really sustain us? The deepest parts of us can know the Christ within us and still be very much in touch with a fallen nature. It seems if we only look at one angle, we miss the fullness, and this watered-down version no longer can sustain faith when the going gets tough.
I can't say for sure why this priest seemed so disillusioned at this stage in his life. However, I can say this is not the first time I witnessed something like this. Another priest comes to mind who every week sounded as though his faith was more confused and more in question than the last week. He too held to what I would call a watered-down, lovely version of Jesus, without any of the hard commands. We are called to die to our former selves and be reborn — Not to just accept the warm fuzzy love without giving anything up. So that is my two cents on that.
On an up-note, I convinced Soren to join a boys choir where he will learn to read music and proper singing (OK, so I bribed him three dollars each time he goes, but he agreed). So I feel like I conquered. Finally I am getting this lovely little singer into some music lessons. A little bribery never hurts when it is for a good outcome. That is what I am telling myself anyway.
