I need to tell you about my amazingly creative friend, Michaela.
Michaela and I have been friends most of our lives. In fact, she has a birthday card that I sent to her for her first birthday. (yeah, I'm that good... or, my mom is anyway!)
We were the type of friends who could be completely goofy together. I mean, sing-into-a-hairbrush-while-holding-a-glass-of-soapy-water-to-pose-for-a-picture goofy. Yep, I just admitted to that. Oh well.
Anyway, in Kindergarten, Michaela and I began dreaming about the day when we would be in high school and in the cool music group that performed for the whole school at the end of the year, hamming it up. We just knew that when we were big kids, we'd sing "Eternal Flame" by the Bangles for our big number in the group. I guess that's where we got started scheming about this bit.
Fast forward to our senior year. Michaela, who had a huge soft-spot for oldies, decided that this song HAD to be our big performance of the year. Being best friends and all, naturally I jumped on the band wagon with her. Our friend Jera jumped on the wagon, too, and amazingly we talked a guy friend into wearing a leather jacket and riding a bike (although my memory is telling me it was a tricycle) around the stage, completing the effect. Don't worry, we had awesome matching outfits, classic bob wigs, choreographed dance moves - we went all out. That is why, to this day, I cannot hear this song without a big smile and fond memories of the amazing powers of friendship.
I remember the day so clearly, like a movie I've seen a hundred times.
If I concentrate, I can walk through it again in my mind.
The weather is warm, and sunny. Not a cloud in the sky.
Though I am not enjoying the sunshine; I am inside. Waiting.
I spent the night before sleeping in a window sill. Trying to sleep. Both of my parents were snoring, and although I desperately wanted it to, my personal cd player would not drown them out.
When the doctor walked into the room, the 3 of us were ready for some answers and a new plan of action. My dad had been diagnosed with stage 4 melanoma two years earlier, and each time he had surgery and "got it all" it had resurfaced in another area of his body. This year he'd had it removed from his lymph nodes under his arm. We thought they got it all this time, but then his mood changed and the doctors thought it was worth further investigation.
"Brain tumors," the doctor said. Five of them. Non-operable. "There's nothing we can do."
This wasn't the news we expected.
Truth be told, I don't remember much about my parents' reactions.
I do remember feeling that I needed to give them some space to react to this news together, without worrying about me.
As I walked into the hallway, I felt so numb.
I stepped into the day room next door and fumbled through my cd case.
Music has always been my coping skill of choice - listening, playing, singing - it was what I knew.
I don't know why, but I didn't want to hear a song I knew and loved...
I think I was afraid of tarnishing it with the memory of what had been said, fear of what may be around the bend.
So, I put a random disc in my cd player, one a friend had given me that I hadn't bothered listening to before.
I hit shuffle and took off walking, aimlessly at first, out of the hospital.
As I stepped into the sunlight, for the first time I heard these words:
All the things my feet thought to be firm are falling with urgency, tearing back my false sense of security. Some say things change, nothing stays the same, but this sweetness in my ears - safe in your arms, say the words I long to hear:
You have been more faithful than the morning sun. You have been more faithful than knowing night will come. You have been more faithful than the changing of seasons.
At this point, I began to cry, remembering all of the times God had been faithful to me.
Not faithful as in protecting me from all harm and not letting anything bad ever happen, no, but in always staying by my side, seeing me through, providing for me, saving me from my sins - from myself. I couldn't think of one time that God let me down, that was true. Could God be faithful to me, to my family, through this diagnosis? The song played on...
All the things I thought that I used to know are falling down again. Our disillusionment is how we grow. Some say things change, nothing stays the same in a world of inconsistency, everything's a lie. What could cause my heart to believe?
You have been more faithful than the morning sun. You have been more faithful than knowing night will come. You have been more faithful than the changing of seasons.
After hearing that song, I walked back to my Dad's hospital room with stubborn determination that everything had to be okay, no matter how it felt or seemed to me at that time.
In retrospect, this began a deeper understanding and internalization for me of patience and perseverance in the face of trials and adversity... and this song is just as true and dear to me today as it was the very first time I heard it.
Everyone has a year that feels "bigger" and more important than other years.
The first year that you're old enough to go to overnight camp. The year that you started dating and got your drivers license. The year that you got married, or had a baby, or bought a house.
This is a big year for me because it is a decade marker for some significant events in my life.
Highschool graduation. My first date with Matt. Freshman year of college. The loss of my dad.
Lately I've found myself thinking a lot about 2001 and the events of that year, and the things that I carry with me from that time in my life. Some things I'm ready to let go of, while others I'm beginning to cherish in new ways. I want to write about these "10 year memories" but haven't been sure where to start. Until today.
Maybe it's because my K-12 grade music and piano teacher recently passed away, leading me to take note of just how important music has been in my life (and how I owe much of that to her,) but I've really been thinking lately about how different songs have shaped me, and I realize that, like many people, I have soundtracks for various stages of my life. What better way to revisit these ten year memories than with a visit back in time, to my 2001 soundtrack?
I won't be posting songs in chronological order, as with any soundtrack, I'll need to balance heavy and light... but we'll start off with something good, pure, and worth holding on to...
Frail - by - Jars of Clay
Many people love this song, and there's no doubt why. The haunting melody, the beautiful instrumental intro, the painfully honest lyrics. I hear this song and I'm transported back to the summer of 2001, listening to this song with Matt, reading the lyrics, finding myself in the middle of it all.
"Convinced of my deception, I've always been a fool.
I fear this love reaction just like you said I would.
A rose could never lie about the love it brings,
And I could never promise to be any of those things.
If I was not so weak.
If I was not so cold.
If I was not so scared of being broken growing old
I would be...
Blessed are the shallow - depth they'll never find.
Seemed to be some comfort in rooms I try to hide.
Exposed beyond the shadows, You take the cup from me.
Your dirt removes my blindness. Your pain becomes my peace.
If I was not so weak.
If I was not so cold.
If I was not so scared of being broken growing old
I would be ... frail. "
You see, the truth is that I was frail... and broken... and weak.
I had been hurt, I had hurt others, and I was hurting.
Hurt: same story you've heard a thousand times - dated the wrong guy for too long, something happens and you realize what an idiot you've been while the rest of your friends and family stand by sympathetically (or waving big "I told you so" banners - I got a little of both.)
Hurt others: (see above)
Hurting: By the end of May 2001, my dad's cancer had gone from being in remission to terminal in a matter of months.... and my world felt like it was falling apart.
I would like to tell you that everything worked out quickly and that this song was a big turning point for me, but life doesn't really work like that.
The truth is that my life is even better now than I'd hoped it could be in 2001, but it's been a long journey.
The reason that this song is a keeper for me is because it signifies a time when I was a broken mess of a person and God broke through my darkness to show me his love... through a song that put to words just how I felt, through an understanding and sympathetic friend who didn't know what he was getting himself into, and through a season of being broken and being made new.
