More Faithful

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.

a thought to break the silence

the following is something i wrote on christmas night...

i grew up singing. i don't remember life before i began singing on stage.
mom says when i was nursing, i would hum "jesus loves me"...
i don't remember that.

it's become a catch phrase between us, though... a saying. if we are talking about something that happened before i was born, and i don't remember it and don't know why i don't remember or don't realize it was before my time, mom says, "that was before you began to sing..."

my dad was a leader of a country music round up band: basically, a bunch of musicians who loved to play but didn't quit their day jobs. they put on a show every saturday night, and as soon as i could hold a microphone, i was up there with them. the first song i ever learned was this cheesy cajun song "don'tcha mess with my toot toot"... it must have been popular at the time, and it had easy words to remember... and i know i sang it wrong because in my head, the words have always been incorrect...

((correct words: "you'll be born in a birth suit"... my head said: "you'll be born in a Bert (as in sesame street Bert) suit..."))

the first "real" song i sang was an Elvis classic - Wooden Heart.
do you know the words? they're simple...

can't you see i love you? please don't break my heart in two.
that's not hard to do 'cause i don't have a wooden heart.
and if you said goodbye then i know that i would cry...
baby, i would die 'cause i don't have a wooden heart.

there's no strings upon this love of mine - it was always you from the start.
so treat me nice, treat me good, treat me like a lover should.
'cause i'm not made of wood and i don't have a wooden heart.

we stopped the saturday night performances when i was 9. the venue wanted to bring in another band to rent the building b/c they thought they'd make more profit, so they came up with some shammy reason to kick us out... that sucked. still, we got together on holidays and just randomly to sing and catch up - and we played a few shows together each year until i was about 12.

i sing everyday. i sing to express myself... i make up silly songs and i sing to cheer up my mom or to pick on matt...i identify with elf when he sings, "i'm singing! i'm in a store and i'm singing!"

this is going somewhere.... i promise.

since my dad died, it's been bittersweet to hear songs we sang together... or to remember the songs we made up together... and mom and i still sing them, we cheer each other on. we have a few tapes of dad singing, and sometimes we listen to them and reminisce.

dad always sang johnny cash songs. i could always tell when he was pumped about a show because he'd go all out and dress in all black, complete with black cowboy hat. he played bass guitar and it sounded more like a stand up bass than i've ever heard an electric bass sound.
he sang other artists, too, but johnny was his favorite because they had the same vocal range, and the crowd really got into that.
he would make jokes about how johnny always said he'd put his best side forward, then dad would turn around with his back to the audience to start the song...

i miss my dad. especially this time of year... especially now.
he died on december 29... just a few days from now.

i've wondered for years how i would incorporate my dad's memory into my wedding without changing the whole focus of the ceremony. m and i discussed his walking out to a recording of my dad singing johnny cash's "i walk the line." it felt like a good idea but... it still didn't feel like the "right" answer.

tonight my mom and i were making a list of things to do before Sunday, and she brought up ceremony music. we got to talking about finding a recording of dad singing "i walk the line" and she said my brother argued that dad never performed that song. i told her that he did, and reminded her of how he would sing it - demonstrating how he would start out humming...and got lower each verse, just like johnny. she laughed and said we should have a recording of me singing it like dad...
we talked about recordings of me singing with dad...
and then, the perfect idea walked through the door and sat down in my lap.

i have a recording of a concert. my dad is talking and he says, "There's not a performer here tonight who loves this more than our next performer does... she's going to sing Elvis Presley's classic, Wooden Heart, for you tonight. Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Miss R... G...." and then, in my little 9 year old voice, i begin to sing.

and so it is, that my dad will not be there to walk me down the aisle... but he will introduce me at my wedding... and i will walk out to little me singing... "there's no strings upon this love of mine - it was always you from the start."

i am so... pleased. i know inside of me that this is EXACTLY the perfect way to make my Dad apart of my special day and to acknowledge his importance in my life.