Songs for a Tuesday

Don't be afraid to move a little like Jian.

Mending

I could see the day fraying at some of its edges today.

Three times this afternoon I heard the kind of yelling in the neighborhood that rattles safety. I was not afraid for my safety, but I was surely afraid for someone's.

Twice I caught sight of a man hauling his belongings down the ally: dumbbells and plastic containers. His walk was heavy. His packing poorly planned, hurried, and spilling out.

Once today I took some time to stare at some of the things in my life that hurt.

And then . . .

I ran.
I had good coffee with a friend.
I washed dishes.
I watched The National.
I got good-chills about Obama.
I did my laundry.
I read a wordy text book.
I read John Milton.
I listened to Over the Rhine.
I reminded myself to breathe more deeply.
I gave some clothes away.
I boiled a free-range, organic egg and put it on my salad.
I drank peppermint tea with honey from this weekend's Vancouver winter market.
I said hello to my mom.

Fake Friends of the Truest Kind

Today I came home and put all my Patty Griffin albums on shuffle. Her music settles anxiety, she sings my ache, and her lyrics put wings on wishes.

Who are your friends in music?

Tables and Chairs

This weekend I got my listening ears swerving around an older Andrew Bird album (Andrew Bird and the Mysterious Production of Eggs - yep, it's delightfully odd). The song 'Tables and Chairs' has this built-up section in the middle where A. Bird paints a don't-you-worry picture of the end of the world.



Besides loving the hospitable images of tables and chairs, calling friends who aren't too busy to talk, and drinking roses from a can together, there is this brilliant end to one of the verse. A. Bird declares that the apex of such a vision is that among the dancing bears, the band, and the part where we throw away our survival kits THERE WILL BE SNACKS THERE WILL, THERE WILL BE SNACKS, THERE WILL BE SNACKS.

This pleases me. Food for all. And not just any sort of spread: SNACKS!

This year I am trying to weave back into my life the gentle moment of bowing my head to give thanks for a meal. My good friend Lisa brought a beautiful book back from Iona for me: Blessed Be Our Table. I've been inspired by real prayers like this one:

Prayer
O God,
you have made us creatures of this earth,
hungry and thirsty and needy,
that you might satisfy all our longings with your abundant love.

Satisfy the hunger of our bodies
for food and shelter, health and human touch.
Satisfy the hunger of our spirits
for dignity and freedom
in giving and receiving.
Satisfy the hunger of our minds
to understand our world,
the reasons for its pain,
the ways we are connected to each other.

Satisfy the hunger of our hearts
that all who share this loving earth with us
shall share our satisfaction.
And satisfy the hunger of our hands
to help you make it so

Through Jesus Christ,
Amen.
- Christian Aid

And this one:

Cornflake grace
O Lord, grant that we may not be like cornflakes: lightweight, empty and cold; but like porridge - warm and comforting and full of natural goodness.
- From Scottish Churches House

Yes and amen. There will be snacks.

Limping Out of 2008

Today was the second day in a row that someone asked me why I was walking with a limp. It seems that my usual uneven stride is a bit more pronounced because I fell marvelously on some ice just four days ago. The fall left a bruise on my hip that is a breathtaking piece of purple artwork. I wish I could show it off, but it might be a strike against my virtue to whip off my pants for any old Joe.

Something that makes this bruise so peculiar is that it is sharing skin with a scar. When I was just a little baby Bobbi Jae I had surgery to correct a congenital condition called hip dysplacia. The orthopedic surgeon's work of temporarily placing a pin in the troubled hip left me with a scar that has stretched as I grew and walk that is a bit out of step.

This year, 2008, has left me limping a bit as well. There has been loss, there have been mistakes, there has been failure. I have had some unexpected falls.

But there has been life, and that life has placed its warm hand on my bruised scars. I have known healing, I have had adventure, I have worked to take care of myself, I have risked, I have welcomed, I have asked questions, I have stood for justice, and I have eaten well. I have begun to roll around in the love of God again and I wonder if, in this new year, that love might take my breath away.