My mom has always believed in my ability to write and has encouraged me to write for Reader's Digest. I keep putting it off and putting it off, but tonight I think she got me. I am going to send something in, I've decided. Talking with her tonight made me think of my long lost blog. Then I jumped on Facebook and found that my sister-in-law Rebecca began blogging today and I felt the need to return to the structure of a blank slate. As I was looking at the blogs I did post when I began this venture last year, I realized how few I have actually written. So here we go again! Time to post.
I told my mom the story I am about to share with you tonight. Again she told me to write it down and send it in to Reader's Digest. Last year for Christmas she even went as far as to get me a subscription to the little magazine so I could begin to see potential. So I decided to share the story here first.
We have a good friend Paul. Paul has been having some memory problems as of late, but he truly is the sweetest man you could ever meet. For Christmas, Dominic and I took Paul to the Colorado Springs Chorale seasonal concert "Deck the Halls". Paul has sung for many years and has well defined himself by his ability to sing. He shares with us often that his late wife Wanda always used to tell him, "Paul, you are a singer, but not a musician." Still music lives on in Paul's heart, but in a different way. He no longer sings in the chorale and feels he is too old, yet he longs for those memories to be alive and active again of those days when he was strong.
I find that I do this also. I long for times when good memories could be alive and active again. Last year was an entire year of wanting to come back to life again. Things were very difficult this 2010 year. It was a wandering year. A year that produced a straying from all I knew to be true of myself. I stopped being creative and so in essence I stopped producing things that brought me life. Joy was hidden and I didn't know where to begin looking for it. Then I met Paul.
As we sat in our balcony seats Dominic told Paul all about what happened last time we were at this concert. Paul talked and told Dominic of his days as a bass in the choir and we pleasantly chatted until the lights dimmed. The choir made its way down the side isles of the Pikes Peak Center and a single note broke the silence from the piano. Suddenly the space around us began to swirl with the beauty of voices as they sang In the Bleak Midwinter. My breath spontaneously caught in my chest and suddenly I took a deep breath. I looked over at Paul and watched the tears of joy and rejouvination crawl down his face. He looked so youthful again; such a wash of memory!
Music feeds our human souls. Not because it becomes a part of us, but because we become a part of it. We like being a part of something. This year I have been challenged to really evaluate why I believe that God sent a baby, named Jesus, to the earth to eventually grow into the man who at 33 years old was hung on a tree with nails through his flesh to save me from my sinful self. Sitting in that concert and watching Paul come back to a lost love, I felt myself doing the same thing. I realized that I am not confident of my belief in God, because he sent his son to be a part of my life. Jesus will never force himself upon us. Sitting there I heard the Holy Spirit whisper, "You have a fresh choice everyday to be a part of something, but you must be an active participant in your choice." Like music feeds our human souls, our relationship with Jesus feeds our life. Life is what I want.
Just this last month, from about October on, I have felt myself coming alive again. Sometimes we forget that in the bleak midwinter is when we are secretly preparing ourselves for spring. Never give up hope, dear reader, because like Paul we may not remember what day it is today, but we can will ourselves to remember the things the Lord has done in, to and through us. Let yourself feel the swirl of God's presence in the space around you and worship, remember and have gratitude for the moments throughout life that you have been priviledged enough to have been apart of. Treasure those memories and live again. Over and over, year after year, live again. Below are the words that brought tears to Paul's eyes and light to my heart:
In the bleak midwinter, frost wind made moan,
earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
in the bleak midwinter, long ago.
Our God, heaven cannot hold him, nor earth sustain;
heaven and earth shall flee away when he comes to reign.
In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed
the Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.
Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
but his mother only, in her maiden bliss,
worshiped the beloved with a kiss.
What can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
if I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
yet what I can I give him: give my heart.
