Goin' Down to Mama's

Sunday Morning Serenity

I was wandering around YouTube recently and ran across several interviews with Linda Ronstadt. After she announced that she had Parkinson’s disease and couldn’t sing any more, everybody wanted to talk with her. Before then, I can’t remember the last time I saw her interviewed on TV. Why is that? Why does it take something dramatic—tragic even—happening to somebody to make us appreciate them?

I spent many an angst-ridden teenage night huddled up in my room with one of Linda’s hurtin’ songs spinning on the turntable. Maybe I just didn’t realize what that music was doing for me way back then. Maybe I don’t realize what the special people who touch my life on an average day are doing for me now. But I want to.

We can get on such a treadmill that we don’t look up much. But we need to. It’s important—to be aware, to be attuned, to be grateful even for the little things—like daffodils blooming in all the rain we've had.

I'll be striving—in all the daily striving—to stop, breathe, look around, and be thankful.

 

 

Sunday Morning Serenity

It’s raining outside. But I can’t hear it over the heater in the Story Shack, and it’s too cold in here without the heater, so I’m in the Shack, door closed, heater on, with nature sounds playing on iTunes so I can hear the sound of rain. Cheeto couldn’t be more confused: Why is her desk thundering, and why are we not wet because I’m sure I hear rain?

I’ve always loved changes in the weather, especially dramatic ones. Both of my parents are bona fide nature lovers, so I guess I come by it honest. I especially love thunderstorms, as long as there’s no chance of a “whirligator”—Daddy’s term for a tornado.

Yesterday, I stared at my computer screen for the longest time, trying to figure out how to describe the movement and sound of a palm tree when a coastal storm is moving in. Palm trees don’t sway like other trees, and palm fronds don’t move like tree branches, do they? The sound they make is incredible. I could listen to it for hours. It’s relaxing you and warning you all at the same time: Feel the Gulf breeze and breathe the salt air, but by the way, a storm is approaching, and you’ll be soaked if you don’t get inside.

We can find millions of things to be stressed about in the manmade world. But the natural world God gave us shouldn’t be ignored or taken for granted. It can soothe and heal and thrill us every day if we let it.

Wishing you time under a blue sky, a rainy afternoon with nothing to do, and the sound of the wind in a palm tree.

 

 

Sunday Morning Serenity

This morning’s topic is shadows and cymbals, and it’s a bit of a rambler, so you might need coffee. (I’m still on my first cup, but it’s going fast.)

Yesterday, my neighbor and I were chatting about this and that, when Facebook came up—specifically, how mean people can be to each other when they feel anonymous or at least shielded by a computer screen. It reminded her of an experiment she read about in psychology class, where participants were instructed to put on masks and then say things to each other they would never ordinarily say—which they freely did until they were instructed to remove their masks. Then all of a sudden, they couldn’t say those things any more.

Cyberspace is one big mask, but it’s not the only one. We hide behind all kinds of things, from text messages to job titles. (I remember a magazine quote by a physician who said she could make anybody do what she said just by using her “doctor voice.”)

All the talk about masks took me back to Hebrews, which I realize I write about a lot, but that’s because I think it’s one of the most fascinating books in the Bible. So please forgive the repetition.

Hebrews has a lot to say about shadows and patterns—how we’re only seeing shadows of what’s to come, and that’s why it’s so important to follow the pattern God provides. We don’t really know what we’re looking at, so we need a divine guide.

Here’s how Hebrews describes the priesthood of Jesus:

If he were on earth, he would not be a priest,
for there are already priests who offer the gifts
prescribed by the law.
They serve at a sanctuary
that is a copy and shadow of what is in heaven.
This is why Moses was warned 
when he was about to build the tabernacle:
“See to it that you make everything
according to the pattern shown you on the mountain.”
But in fact the ministry Jesus has received
is as superior to theirs as the covenant 
of which he is mediator is superior to the old one,
since the new covenant
is established on better promises.
Hebrews 8:4-6 (NIV)

“Better promises”—it’s no longer about earthly sacrifice and the law; it’s about divine sacrifice and grace. Grace through Christ is the source of our confidence in a world of shadows. And even when things are at their worst, when we’re weary of masks and meaningless noise and wondering what to hold onto, we have a constant:

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels,
but do not have love,
I am only a resounding gong
or a clanging cymbal.
If I have the gift of prophecy
and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge,
and if I have a faith that can move mountains,
but do not have love, I am nothing.
If I give all I possess to the poor
and give over my body to hardship
that I may boast,
but do not have love,
I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking,
it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 
It always protects, always trusts,
always hopes, always perseveres. 
Love never fails.
But where there are prophecies, they will cease;
where there are tongues, they will be stilled;
where there is knowledge, it will pass away.
For we know in part and we prophesy in part,
but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears.
When I was a child, I talked like a child,
I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.
When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.
For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror;
then we shall see face to face.
Now I know in part; then I shall know fully,
even as I am fully known. 
And now these three remain:
faith, hope and love.
But the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:1-13 (NIV)

Sunday Morning Serenity

 

Some songs touch you when you first hear them and never lose their hold. They resurface at unexpected moments in your life and speak to you in a whole new way.

I first heard Bob Dylan’s “Forever Young” when I was much younger. It was a recording by Joan Baez, and I thought the melody was so pretty, the words so powerful. I recently ran across a version by the Canadian Tenors and found it just as arresting as the very first time I heard it.

As I get older, this song—originally written by Dylan for his young son—takes on all kinds of layers for me. I picture myself saying the words to all my old friends from childhood, high school, and college. Back then, some of us had conflicts and conflagrations that we were sure we’d never get over. But now? It’s hard to remember what any of that was about. We’re just happy to see each other.

There’s a passage in Hebrews that describes earthly things as a shadow of heavenly things. What we think we see so clearly now is really just a shadow of heaven’s ultimate truth and love and beauty. Once we’re there, we’ll be able to see that all of our conflicts and conflagrations down here were so much smoke and mirrors.

Communion. That’s what I think is beyond the shadows. That’s what it means to be “Forever Young” :

May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay
May you stay forever young

CHORUS
Forever young
Forever young
May you stay forever young.

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you

May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay
May you stay forever young

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift

May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
And may you stay
May you stay forever young

—Bob Dylan