Coupla Things

I'm generally not a 
meme sharer, but I did feel this one...

It has occurred to me that maybe more people would read my blog if the posts were shorter. I’m not sure why it matters to me how many hits I get or whatever, but it IS something I notice, sadly. Are my entries just too long and rambling and detailed and full of tangents and all that? Is reading one of them like spending 30 minutes listening to my son talk about the playground wars? Should I just make my point and get the hell out of Dodge?

David's motley crüe

I guess I could, but that wouldn’t really be me. No... long, rambling, detailed, full of tangents are definitely words I’d use to describe my thought processes. So… it’s like you’re just peeking into my head… for a while. 

That said… I thought I’d experiment with a shorter post… if nothing else, because I just wanted to point out a couple of things I tripped over in my “daily” Bible reading.

David and
Jonathan, BFFs

See, right now I’m in I Samuel, which tells the story of Samuel, Saul and David. Samuel was a prophet who had to anoint Israel’s first king. Saul was Israel’s first king, but before the oil was dry on his forehead, he messed up… “royally,” as they say. So Samuel is instructed by God to anoint David as king. The problem now is that Saul is still alive and royally pissed. He's always trying to nail David to the wall with a spear, so when David makes himself scarce Saul hunts him down like dog.

It’s at this point that the writer of Samuel mentions this little tidbit:  “All those who were in distress or in debt or discontented gathered around [David]…” (I Samuel 22: 2) I guess I noticed it because it went so beautifully with the previous post I wrote about Jesus being the King of Broken Hearts. I know David is NOT Jesus, but he’s sort of the prototype… One of the things the Jews said about the Messiah was that he would be the Son of David. And to be literal, he was actually one of David’s descendants – in addition to being the Messiah AKA the Son of David.

Bruce Cockburn knows
who Jesus came for!

There are plenty of things in David’s life that sort of pre-echo (I know that’s not a word or a thing, but it works for me here!) Jesus’s life… like his work as a shepherd, for instance.,, and the way he was rejected by his own family, and hunted down by the establishment... you get the picture.

So when I see this part about David attracting all the folks who are in distress and debt and all, well… I know that’s me. And it’s why I am attracted to Jesus, the friend of (according to Bruce Cockburn) “shepherds and street people, hookers and bums.” Because "The Son of Man [another of the Messiah's monikers] came to seek and to save the lost.” (Luke 9:10)

Okay, so moving right along… the next day I read something else that popped out at me. You see, in I Samuel 23, our hero David is still on the run from crazy King Saul when this happens: “And Saul’s son Jonathan went to David at Horesh and helped him find strength in God.” (v16) What I like about this is that it’s a great description of what I perceive my job as a friend to be. 

Haha! You're going to have to read the 
whole post and click on the link to 
find out what this has to do with anything!

When my friends are down, it’s not my job to fix everything, or to tell my freaked out friend, “You can do it!” Although this advice can be helpful in some cases (as in this charming song on a video that we bought my son when he was 2 – and if you neglect to click on this link, you will most assuredly be sorry), it still leaves the friend with the responsibility for “doing it.” 

Now, I don’t have anything at all against hard work. I mean, I do it sometimes. But I’m thinking that rather than telling my exhausted friend, “You can do it!”... if I'm going to be a good friend like Jonathan, I'll be saying “God can do it!” Because He can…. And that’s really what a desperate, in debt or discontented person needs to know.

(Okay, so... that wasn't so short. Maybe it's not in my skill set to be brief?)

He Talks to Angels and the Stars Start to Spin

Merle and Doc Watson...
reunited and it feels so good.

Well, we just got back from our yearly pilgrimage to the Merlefest bluegrass festival, and it was kind of a different one. Usually we are there nearly every waking moment – or maybe it just feels that way. I love it there, don’t get me wrong… it just seems like an awful long time to be in one place where the quantity of port-a-johns way outnumbers the quantity of indoor “seating.” This time, though, rain and cold kept us from sticking it out too long on any given day... which was a little disappointing, but it was fine.

Jim Lauderdale, rockin'
a Nudie suit

Anyway, it was the first Merlefest without Doc, its founder and driving force. Sure, he was getting up there, but he was still the benevolent spirit that infused the festival with goodness and mercy. Oh wait, no – that was God. But still, Doc started the whole thing in memory of his late son Merle, and now I guess we’re doing it in memory of them both – two musicians who could play the hell out of their guitars.

The musicians who knew Doc best did do a special tribute one night for him, but the rest of the weekend... well, people mentioned him occasionally, but the man they really talked about was George Jones. Maybe because the wound was fresh – we just got word of his passing on Friday. George’s music was  straight country rather than bluegrass – not exactly the type championed at Merlefest… but as a man, he was exactly the type of guy we’re all about.

1960s George Jones,
rockin' a Nudie suit

Jim Lauderdale, a fantastic musician who always comes to the festival, might actually be considered George’s "successor." If anyone COULD fill his shoes, Jim could do it. He’s got the talent, the charisma, the Nudie suits, the plaintive country twang, and the hard-luck story it would take to live up to George Jones’ legacy.

Heck, once I saw Jim play George in a production called Stand By Your Man: The Tammy Wynette Story. His portrayal of the man they call “Possum” was eerily accurate. Jones lived a wild, drankin’, partyin’ life… His love life was turbulent as well – heck, he was married four times. But of singing, Jones was a master. He could wail and croon… he wrung every bit of emotion out of any song he sang.

More recent Gorge
Jones... RIP

And that’s why Jim Lauderdale crowned him (in song) The King of Broken Hearts. If you click on this link, you can hear Jim explain the title, and the awesome song.) Oh sure, George Strait tried to sing it, but it was Jim who wrote it and meant it. And during his set at Merlefest, when Jim introduced the song he did so with a quaking voice, full of grief and missing. 

He did the song right, though, because he’s a great performer. Anyway, I love the title The King of Broken Hearts, but I think it belongs to someone else. Or some One else! And I’m pretty sure you know where I’m going with this… that’s right… the Man of Constant Sorrow.* Or as Isaiah called him, the Man of Sorrows. (Isaiah 55:3)

George and
Jim together

You know – the one who said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.” (Matthew 5:33) Yeah, that guy, Jesus. I love Him. He pulled all our sorrow and brokenheartedness onto Himself and bled it out of his own body.** Yeah, it’s nasty. But it’s altogether real. And wonderful. And scandalous. And beautiful.

I love Him more than I can say, and surely much less than He deserves, this King of Broken Hearts. But no amount of love or “goodness” on my part can make Him love me more, or make Him more concerned about my broken heart. Because it is His first priority no matter what. He was betrayed, beaten, ridiculed, spit on, hung on a tree and stabbed for my broken heart. And for yours.

I always loved this verse from a song called The Disappointed by XTC… “The disappointed all congregate at my house.” Because it reminds me of church. I go to a church with a wide mix of people, but I’m not going to lie to you – there are some beautiful, well-to-do people in that mix – people that look like they could be clip-art models. I remember once when I was very young, and even more obviously broken than I am now, I was sitting in church and I noticed an extremely handsome, well-dressed man with a lovely family… the look on his face… just full of hurt. I thought to myself, everyone here is sitting on a pile of sh*t. I can’t assume that just because they look like they have it together… that they do. Because they most likely don’t... otherwise why would they seek solace from the King of Broken Hearts? Of course, that's not the only reason people go to church, but it's a likely one.

Our church has a
generous share
of clip-art-looking
families.

He's not judging
you, he's just
trying not to poot.

Now, I was deep in therapy at this time and sometimes when you get deep in therapy, you get so busy looking at yourself, that you start to think everyone else is fine – that you’re the only one who is messed up and needs special consideration. But this subtle event at church marked a distinct increase in the amount of empathy I had for others. Not that I’m not still selfish as all get-out, but now, I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt a bit more than I used to. I mean, I didn’t think people were terrible before, I just didn’t think of them as flawed creatures that may or may not be hauling around a big suitcase of crap from their past... or, as my friend Grace says – that look on their face may not be a grimace or judgy look - they might just be trying to hold in a poot. 

So... anyway... I’m definitely off track now with this… I guess I just wanted to talk a little about George Jones, who I miss – and Jim Lauderdale, who I have a crush on… and The King of Broken Hearts, who is our God.***

*I linked to Ralph Stanley's version of this song because, well, he just sounds more like the title than the smooth-singing Dan Tyminsky who provided the voice for George Clooney in O Brother Where Art Thou. Here's THAT version. If you really prefer looking at George Clooney, here's that one.

**Read Isaiah 55 and John 19 and you'll get the whole picture.

***Okay, one last song, a prayer to the King of Broken Hearts... 

Leaning on the Invisible Arms

The other day I was taking Bill to a birthday party at an unfamiliar location and as we drove around looking for the exact spot, Bill kept up a running monologue of doubt and fear: “What if we made a wrong turn? I don’t see any cars – maybe it’s the wrong day! What if we passed it? Maybe this isn’t the right street! What if we never find it? What if we’re late? Mom, you should call Alexander's mom.”

Forget that I had GPS on my phone… forget that being late to a birthday party, taking a wrong turn, etc., are absolutely no big deal… he was panicking. He likes to rest in the knowledge the grownups that care for him are in control and know what they’re doing. Unfortunately for him, I happen to be one of those grownups, and I most assuredly do NOT know what is going on MOST of the time! Especially when it comes to parenting.

What I actually said at that moment was this: “Bill, trust me.” I don’t know where it came from – God, maybe? Of course Bill was full of “but Mom”s. But I was determined that I had hit the exact right vein. I just kept repeating at intervals, “Trust me, honey.” Of course it turned out that we WERE on the right road, it was just farther down than we expected, and we made it to the party with minutes to spare. (And by the way, the place they had the party – a huge warehouse with wall-to-wall trampolines – GENIUS!!)

Anyway, a couple of days later, I happened to read a column by an actual child-raising advice giver, John Rosemond. I’ve heard him called a kook, but anytime I have tried any of his advice it has worked beautifully, so… kook or not, I tend to give some of his views credence. Anyway, in this column Rosemond reiterated his oft-given advice – his recommendation of gratuitous use of the phrase, “Because I said so.”

John Rosemond – 
a guru or a kook, 
depending on who you ask.

Rosemond is a firm believer in a kid respecting the absolute authority of his or her parent, so “BISS” is a perfect catch-all response to whining, protesting kids. I personally don’t use it that often, but I’m not afraid to use it. Sometimes it’s the real answer. Rosemond suggests that it is shorthand for, “Because I am an adult and you are my child and it is my responsibility to make decisions of this sort on your behalf and you will not understand my actual reason until you are my age and have a child your age, so there’s no point in my sharing it with you, and whether you agree or not, you have to obey.”

In this recent article, though, he goes on to say, “I have discovered an alternative that is even shorter and, therefore sweeter: ‘Trust me.’” He argues that when I decide something for my kid that is in his best interest, nothing I say will make him agree with me, so I just have to ask him to trust me. He may not understand that request, and he may not be able to do it, but … it’s really all we’ve got… this relationship and its predetermined roles.

Of course, as the trust-ee in this relationship, all this is easy for me to say. You see, this is only the intro to this particular piece… a way to get to this part:

If worrying made one taller, I'd be
taller than my husband... but alas, you
can see that it does not.

You see, I am a freelance graphic designer, as my moniker says above, and freelance means that I have to drum up my own work. Consequently, the amount of work, and therefore money, I have coming in varies from month to month. My favorite thing is a steady client for whom I produce a certain amount on a regular basis… like a direct mail client or magazine that has a monthly printing, or a marketing firm with a constant need for print materials for various clients. 

Even this, however, does not guarantee a consistent income. There are still slow and therefore poor periods. And I’m in one now… with bills due, summer camp fees to pay and high quarterly taxes – because last year was pretty flush. Needless to say I worry about this. A lot. I wrack my brains trying to think of ways to earn extra cash, to make the cash I have go farther, to cut and trim our budget…

And while I was stewing over this ad nauseum the other day – as is my way, I had this overwhelming sense that God was saying to me, “Trust Me.” Oooopsss… And I didn't say it out loud, or even in my mind, but my basic response to this was an attitude that implied, “Do I HAVE to? Must I go through an unsettled, scary time? Can’t I just have the money? And of course it WOULD be easier to just have the money than to have to trust an invisible Being. But I’m thinking that’s not what I’m called to do right now.

Iris Dement does a good version of
Leaning on the Everlasting Arms

No, I’m going to have to “put my money where my mouth is.” That is to say, I talk about God a lot, and my confidence that He and His promises are real, but when it comes to actually having to lean on Him and His promises… well, am I any good at it?

No, not really. Hence all my fretting and scheming. Which, according to Jesus is a huge waste of time:

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothes. Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds! Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life [or a single cubit to his height]? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest?  

 “Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you—you of little faith! And do not set your heart on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it. For the pagan world runs after all such things, and your Father knows that you need them. But seek his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well. 

Sad to say, the Sermon on the Mount is just about the last thing I am thinking about. No, instead I am praying for a windfall and planning how I would spend it. Nice. (Home repairs, cars to replace our aging relics, school tuition…) Lame, I know.

You know that song Leaning on the Everlasting Arms? It’s a great song, but you have to lean on those eternal arms before you can see them. And sometimes you don’t even see them until later, in retrospect like that gooey Footprints poem. And that’s uncomfortable – stepping out into to what looks like nothing. Ha! They should call it Leaning on the Invisible Arms!

It’s like that old trust game where one person falls back and the other people catch them. You have to actually allow yourself to fall before they will catch you. Of course on the sitcoms the people are standing around talking or arguing and don’t notice the protagonist is falling until it’s too late. In this case, though, God will always catch you. Maybe I just have to believe that the bottom of whatever I am falling into – that is, the grace of God – is the metaphorical equivalent of wall-to-wall trampolines...!

Of course, none of this is to say that God guarantees prosperity. That’s something I have to relax into as well. Knowing that the absence of money does not indicate the absence of God. In my case it’s usually the opposite. My prayer life is rich and juicy during times like these. So, basically, I’m going to have to put my whole self into trusting that He knows what He’s doing, and that His Grace and friendship are sufficient.

So… um… here goes…!