Good News, God's Kingdom, and Music

Just sharing a reflection from my journal about Good News, God's Kingdom, and music. 

I love this word picture I read to describe the Good News.  

"Jesus forms a movement of people who trust him and believe his message.  They believe that they don't have to wait for this or that to happen, but rather they can begin living in a new and better way now....life for them is about an interactive relationship - reconciled to God and to one another - so they see their entire lives as an opportunity to make the beautiful music of God's kingdom so that more and more people will be drawn into it and so the world will be changed by their growing influence."

This is what my spirit yearns for. This is Good News!  Reconciled to God and to others.  Living a new and better way now.  And I love the phrase "They see their entire lives as an opportunity to make the beautiful music of God's Kingdom."

How cool to think of it as beautiful music!  I'm always so intrigued when I consider a person creating a song - creating a new arrangement of musical notes and lyrics.  How beautiful!  How impossible!  Haven't all possible arrangements of musical notes been put together by now? No! It's seemingly endless.  Even when someone does a cover of a song, they can rearrange, add, or spin it to be new.  

God is endless creativity - just like music.  There is no limit to the creative expression we can tap into when we are reconciled with THE Creator!  We can "make the beautiful music of God's Kingdom" and it can be fresh and new every single day.  It can never be stagnant.  

We can enjoy music that has been made and has been passed down and has endured.  We can create new music.  We can certainly be drawn to different expressions, styles and forms of music.  Just like my husband feels his spirit lift while he's by the ocean and mine when I'm on a trail surrounded by trees.  Some will find their spirit lift when music is lyrically pointing them to truth about God.  Some will feel a deep stirring when the poetry in the music leads them to contemplation.  Some enjoy the simple chords and lyrics that invite ease to sing along.  Some enjoy the unpredictable, almost free flowing, unscripted, unchartered route of a guitar riff that you can get lost in and it seems to have no beginning or end.  

For me, music speaks to a part of my soul that nothing else seems to penetrate.  It transcends my typical pathway of assimilating information.  It opens up a new pathway - beyond the cerebral, cognitive, logical, thinking part of my being - reaching deeper, further, wider.  It bypasses the well traveled route I rely on to assess information.  It goes to my spirit.  

So, I really love that he used this analogy - we can "make the beautiful music of God's Kingdom".

It's overwhelming! It's creative beauty that is endless and beyond words, reasoning and logic.  
Yet, I also know that when people study music, it actually integrates mathematics and unwavering rules of the design of the universe.  

Isn't that just a picture of God? Endlessly creative, yet somehow woven in to a particular structure that is set and enduring and even predictable.  

It's a paradox.  I love it! Truth always seems to involve paradox.  It stretches me.  Is music boundless, creative and ever evolving, or is it somehow restricted to unchanging rules of mathematics?  YES!  BOTH! 

So intriguing.  So beautiful.  So mysterious.  My appetite is insatiable - for new music - and for seeing God in new ways.  

Poems

 April is National Poetry Month. 

A while back, I was reading a book about poetry and I realized that actually attempting poetry is super vulnerable for me. It goes to such depths.  It's emotion on paper.  It's admitting the depths of awareness, feeling, emotion, uncertainty, confusion, delight.  Trying to express the transcendent.  And, if you don't know me well, you might not know that I prefer thinking to feeling.  Poetry exposes my feely side and I'm just learning to be OK with that part of myself. Plus I have no idea how to write poems.  

But, what the heck.  I have jotted down a few poems in my journal over some years and thought - why not share them here?

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Round and round we go

Where is the clock?

Nobody knows.

Stop!  Did you hear that?
A snowflake just fell.

Through the tick and the tock,

I could hardly tell.

Another.  Another. 

Does white carry sound?

Perfect stillness rests

I hear it clanging all around

The morning has broken

The morning in mine

The tick tock, the stillness

The gift of time.

It's there.  Or is it?

It surrounds us, and yet...

With tight fists I grab hold, 

And with open hands I get. 

Stop.  Go.  Stop.  Go...

In motion tremors thrill

but in the ring stands fighting

the desire to be still.

Who will be the victor?
Who takes home the prize?

Can you measure these opponents?

Will they score based on their size?

Run.  Accomplish.  Fight.  Win.

Then worthy you will be.

But stop, reflect, surrender, lose

And victory you might see.  

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Too much pain

Disconnect

See the smile

Shut down the heart

Too much pain

The dagger is a threat

I can't let it puncture

Shift, dodge, scroll, move

Keep moving

The blade finds willing flesh

Their words ooze from the wounds

But not me

Keep them all inside

They are my oxygen

My lungs swell

Exhale

Controlled, alive, protected

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Woosh.  Woosh.

A friendly dragon breathes in the morning sun.

The breeze carries it away.

Woosh.  Woosh.

My heart lifts!  

I know this.

I remember this!

It is colors.

Rising on a breeze.

Saying yes to the trees...and then no

Lifting with each exhale

But I lift with each inhale

We're breathing together

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Colors

Sounds

Creamy blue palette

Green rustling and swaying

How can I hear a breeze?

Only as it catches what impedes it's path.

How can it be so beautiful?

It's invisible.

Yet, my breath catches in my throat.

Branches sway and leaves dance. 

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A lifetime of training

Lean in, not away.

Open arms for an embrace

Answer yes, it's OK.

What are you protecting?
Why is it so hard?
Others make it look so easy.

Let down your guard.

Not sure when it happened.

But training works that way.

I think I'm one of them now

there's nothing I need to say.

Stop

Recoil

Don't

Not safe!

There's an enemy among us

we must not make mistakes.

That person isn't the enemy

Defeat is in the space between us

Resist the desire for closeness

Retreat to self protection is a must

Stranger on the street

Move away and nod discreetly

Hold your breath and speculate

Wish the categories lined up neatly.

Us and them

Nothing makes sense

Do I make exceptions

in my line of defense?

Can I?  Should I/

Who do I ask?

Knowing right and wrong

Has become and impossible task.

What felt like selfless and loving

has become a selfish act.

Do you want to be part of the problem?

All invitations you must retract.

It won't always be this way

Don't let it harden your heart

Grieve the temporary loss

And let perfect love do it's part.

There's no condemnation in love

No judgement, no keeping score

No fear, no worry, no envy, no pride

And when it runs out, there is more!

My Dad

It's been 4 months since we lost my Dad.

We had the opportunity to get up and share at the funeral home during the visitation for my Dad.

I jotted down some notes.  Here are a few things I talked about.

We joke about how he walks. One arm swinging.  Leaning forward.  I remember my Mom saying I could always keep up with him - even as a little kid with my short legs.  
Sometimes Timm says "pump the brakes Harold" to me when my pace is high speed.

Not sure who remembers when he had to try the skateboard in Florida and wiped out.  Sometimes when I'm moving faster than is safe, or I try something I probably shouldn't, Timm might say "easy Harold".

When I injured my pinky finger playing basketball and I just wanted to go home, but Timm insisted I go to the emergency room. Now I have a bent pinky, just like my Dad.  And when I had torn a muscle pretty bad - that time he didn't even have to say it - I know Timm was thinking "you're just like your Dad."

He might be poking fun - but I love to hear someone say I'm just like my Dad.

I hope so

I posted a picture of him on Facebook saying I'll miss his smile and several people commented that they see his smile in mine.

I hope so.

I hope I can carry on his spirit.

Over and over as I made call this weekend, or sent texts, I would get the same response "Oh No! Not Harold.  He was so happy and friendly and helpful and kind."  Most people added  - "and I just talked to him!"

He wasn't always a patient man.  I put him over the edge more than a few times when I was a sassy, spunky, energetic kid.  Sometimes I think I slowed him down with all of my questions and "yah but's".  But as he aged, he grew more and more patient.

With my kids and all of the grandkids, he welcomed them into whatever he was doing.  My girls loved to go out and pick sugar snap peas or cucumbers.  He would let them do it themselves while he carried a basket, and they felt treasured.  

I see the kids next door.  How he invited them in to learn about farming and gardening.

In Florida, any time I talked to him he would be doing something for the condo or for someone else.  Always asking everyone how they're doing...and then listening.  And then offering help.  Or inviting someone else to help him.  I hear he has an apprentice recently doing some of the plants with him.  Now he has someone who can step in and take some of it over.

That's pretty much what I shared at the funeral home.  But, I'd add:

Our motto in our home is "Live 360".  It's our mission to try our best to always have 360 vision - looking all around and asking God to give us his eyes to see people.  And not just to see people, but to love and care for them.  

And I'm not sure if I ever fully realized that's how Dad lived.

He didn't go out and find kids in need and create a program where the kids would come and work in his fields.  No, he saw the neighbor kids and he invited them.  It can be that simple. 

He didn't go looking to volunteer with big brothers, but I heard several of my brother's friends say that my Dad was a father figure to them and they learned so much by being around him.  They said they always felt welcome and treated like family. 

He didn't need to arrange elaborate programs at his condo, he just saw every person and learned their name and their story.  They all knew he was interested in them.  He cared about the grounds and worked to improve the landscaping.  He watered plants, replaced some that needed it, and talked with the hired crews to ensure the work was done well. 

He wasn't a hospice volunteer on a team, but when his sister was dying, he talked with her every day and was there to love and serve her - and then to take care of everything when she passed.  

His neighbor in Michigan shared that not only was my Dad the best neighbor, but also the best man he'd ever met.  

All of the grandkids shared the he made each feel like his favorite - and was always interested in their lives.  He supported them in whatever they did, even if he didn't fully understand it. 

He was available to everyone who crossed his path. He lived 360.