I Lied to Jeri

I don’t really know Jeri. In fact, the only reason I even know her name is Jeri is because I read her nametag while she was scanning my groceries. But I lied to her. I didn’t mean to, it just kinda rolled off my tongue. I mean, Jeri seemed nice enough…very genuine, big smile on her face, her white hair telling me that she probably had quite a few good stories to share. Nonetheless, I lied to her. Without even thinking about it.

Jeri seemed to be very intelligent. In fact, maybe she even knew I was lying. I guarantee that if she had seen me just 15 minutes prior, standing next to the cooler which housed the frozen peas, she definitely would have known. Who knows how she would have responded or how I would have been impacted or how her day would have changed. I’ll never know. Because I lied.

You see, while I was trying to retrieve the last few items of my carefully calculated grocery list, I got a text message. The kind of text message I could do without. Someone passed away. Someone whom I had known for several years through Joni and Friends. Someone who had been told only a month and a half ago that he had cancer. Someone who left behind a young adult with a traumatic brain injury, an amazingly mature and servant-hearted 18 year old and many other friends and family who already miss him desperately. And as strong and “put together” as I like to be…I started crying in the middle of the frozen foods department. Staring at my phone. Digging around in my overcrowded purse for a tissue. Texting a few close friends in an effort to make that “alone” feeling dissipate at least a little. Feeling mad and sad and helpless.

So when Jeri asked the obligatory “How are you today?” question as I took the last of my items out of the cart, I lied. I said “Just fine, thanks,” hoping that she wouldn’t look at me long enough to notice the tell tale signs that I had been crying. I wasn’t fine. I was far from fine. But who actually admits to that when they’re getting ready to pay for their groceries. Apparently, not me.

Here’s the problem…I have no idea how Jeri would have responded. She may have felt awkward that a complete stranger was honest about her feelings. Or she may have been able to offer some genuine words of encouragement that would have ministered to me. Perhaps, depending on her own story, she would have even been grateful for the opportunity to have a real conversation with someone…to encourage them, or to be encouraged. Who knows how it would have ended? I certainly don’t. Because I lied to Jeri.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not implying that we should flippantly offer intimate details of our life stories to complete strangers on a daily basis. In fact, I’ll go so far to say that I’m not assuming I made the wrong choice. Perhaps, in that situation, it was best for me to keep the details of my breakdown amidst the frozen veggies to myself. What makes me sad, is that I realized that even if Jeri had been someone I knew, I may very well have lied to them, too. Why? Because I’m prideful? Private? Or under the false sense that my job is to make sure everyone else is OK…not to actually accept the fact that sometimes I need other people to make sure that I’m OK? Yes. Yes. And yes.

Luckily, I have people. People that will call me out on it. People that tell me it’s OK to feel the emotions that I try so hard to hide from myself and from others. People that don’t pretend to have the answers or even the right words to say. People that I can be myself with…whether I’m feeling goofy, sassy, courageous or really ticked off that cancer can take someone’s life with just a month and a half notice. I’m grateful for those people. Everybody needs those kind of people. And I hope and pray that I can be that person for someone else. Whether a good friend or complete stranger…I hope that people get the vibe that I’m genuine…the kind of person that cares…the kind whose compassionate eyes and attentive ears communicate to others that their stories are important to me. You know…the kind of person Jesus was. I have a feeling that he was always ready to listen and empathize with those who were hurting. (Of course, I’m fairly certain that He had a way of calling people out when their negativity got the best of them…but that’s a different post).

So, Jeri, I’m sorry if I took something away from you in an effort to keep my emotions in check. Of course, if it was for the better, then I’m OK with that, too. At the very least, it gave me plenty to think about as I left the store with my cart containing, amongst other things, plenty of frozen vegetables.

Fact...

Fact: I play the piano.
Fact: I marched in the Concord High School marching band.
Fact: I work with people affected by disability.

Some more facts: I've met and worked with a lot of incredibly talented musicians. Some with a great amount of training, others that just have the natural gift. And I have been inspired by the stories of countless people with disabilities, diseases and other major roadblocks as they attempt to live what our society has determined as a "normal" life.

I know what you're thinking. "So what? Is that really blog worthy?" Probably not. But the story of Patrick Henry is. I'm not sure when this story aired on ESPN, but I came across it for the first time today. What a cool story of determination, perspective and hope. What a dedicated dad. What an awesome way for a young man to impact his community, college campus and the many others who have heard his story.

Fact: I really don't need to say a whole lot more. And if I do, I highly doubt it will make much difference to what you get out of this video. So, this is me shutting up...watch the video.

Not Too Sure...

I'm not too sure if this would really help...nor am I convinced that I will be showing this at my Short Term Missionary orientation for Joni and Friends Family Retreats. However, I think it's kinda funny. Especially when the narrator puts his glasses in his mouth. And the video game guy. And the coffee shop attacks.

11 Things I Observed While Running Yesterday

It's been awhile since I've blogged. It's also been awhile since I've gone for a run outside. So, I figured it would be appropriate for me to combine the two, and blog about my little run that I took yesterday. Aren't I clever?? So, here you have it: 11 things I observed while running yesterday...

1. My breath.

2. A dead bunny on the side of the road, may he rest in peace.

3. Several deer running across the snow covered field.

4. An incredibly beautiful snow/ice concoction clinging to each and every branch of each and every tree.

5. Shelley Flickinger.

6. Quite a few scenes from "Glee." No, not literally, but as some of the songs from "Glee" came up on my i-pod, I could totally replay the scene in my mind.

7. Drivers smiling at me. Not a "Hey, I want to be polite to you" kind of smile. More like a "You are insane to be running in this weather and you look like Rocky Balboa...and by the way, nice hat" smile.

8. A young man shooting some hoops in his driveway.

9. Potholes. Lots and lots of potholes.

10. Renewed perspective, determination, strength,gratitude and joy.

11. My mailbox. My "light at the end of the tunnel," if you will. The thing that I look for and fixate on towards the end of my run. The thing that affirms I completed what I set out to do. The thing that gives me a figurative pat on the back...congrats...you did it. And as you know, we all need things or people like that. Whether we're running 5 miles on a cold January afternoon or just living life...

Here With Us

As with many churches, we have a special service planned for Sunday morning. Music, drama, dance...the whole nine yards. I'm excited about this service for quite a few reasons. This is a program that's been rattling around in my brain for quite a few years. A concept that I felt very passionately about designing a service around...just waiting for the right time, the right people and the right opportunity. All of those things seemed to line up perfectly a few months ago, and in two days we'll see what happens! My good friend, Rob, stepped in to my rattling brain (go ahead and ask him...it's a pretty scary place to be) and wrote the script to line up with the concept and music that I had been kicking around. I'm no expert, but even for a gifted writer like Rob, I'm guessing it was at least a little daunting to be approached with an OCD person such as myself with the following request: "Would you please write the script for the program I've been dreaming about doing for years?" No pressure... But I gotta tell you. Rob nailed it. It's perfect. He created a very powerful journey through the Christmas story, pulled out specific details and emotions out of each character and presented an opportunity to make the Christmas story personal, no matter who you are or where you've been. Add to that the amazing team of tech support, actors, choir members, soloists and instrumentalists...and I'm pretty humbled. What a great team of people to work with. And after several months of writing, tweaking, rehearsing and planning, I'm very excited to see it come all together.

We're in the "last few details" mode, and so I've been spending time this afternoon looking for a very specific video background for one of the songs. I'm not sure what the video actually is. But I'll know when I find it, I'm certain. I'm hopeful, anyway...

While I was looking, I stumbled across this song/video. The music is gripping. The lyrics paint quite a picture. And what a great reminder that God is here with us...no matter what we're facing, how we're feeling or what we're doing. Whether 2009 has been predictably enjoyable or surprisingly difficult.

He is here.
And He has been here.
And He will be here.
The tiny babe and Creator King.
Here.





It's still a mystery to me
That the hands of God could be so small
How tiny fingers reaching in the night
Were the very hands that measured the sky

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Heaven's love reaching down to save the world
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Son of God, Servant King- Here with us
You're here with us

Still a mystery to me
How His infant eyes have seem to gone with time
How His ears have heard an angels' symphony
But still Mary had to rock her Savior to sleep

Jesus the Christ born in Bethlehem
A baby born to save...to save the souls of man

Tapping Shoes, Eye Rolls and Dot-Dot-Dot

Random topic #1 - Tapping shoes. You know...those noisy shoes that annoy the tar out of everyone that has to listen to them? They are awesome. I distinctly remember my first pair of black patent leather "tapping shoes." Pulling them onto my feet, painstakingly fastening the tiny little buckle on the side, trying really, really hard not to fall as I stood up and then...finally...the reward. Tap tap tap. Tappity tap tap. Oh, what a beautiful sound. Who cared that my feet hurt? Who cared that they were slippery as all get out and would be responsible for many a fall on my bum? They were tapping shoes. Like a lady would wear. Which, of course, meant that I had arrived...I was all grown up.

My daughters love tapping shoes. Nope. Scratch that. They are obsessed with tapping shoes. They have tried to sleep with them. They've hid them in their bag when we were going somewhere. They kiss their tapping shoes. The worst punishment they could ever receive? Getting grounded from their tapping shoes. (Hey, it may sound weird...but it works. Don't judge me.)

I was sharing this tapping shoe obsession with one of my very dear friends recently. This friend pointed out the fact that all little girls love tapping shoes. True. Nothing new there. But then this friend pointed out that it really shouldn't be a surprise that my girls love tapping shoes as much as they do. Their mommy (that's me) wears them all the time. No, not the black patent leather variety, but I do own quite the collection of pumps, boots and other various style of "tapping shoes." What can I say? I like wearing heels. They make me smile. I'm a simple girl, remember?

Random topic #2 - Eye rolls. I can roll my eyes with the best of them. Eye rolling is truly an art. And if you don't mind me saying so, I have perfected it. Just ask my parents...I'm sure they would recall those teen years in which they threatened to have my eyeballs surgically altered. But, let me tell ya, I could communicate soooo much without saying a word, which really came in handy at times. And yes, in case you couldn't tell, I'm very proud of my eye rolling abilities. Well, I used to be anyway. Now that my children have decided to try and live up to my eye rolling standards, I'm not as excited about it. Add to that the fact that even unrelated people have noticed the eye rolling imitation, and I'm even less excited.

Random topic #3 - Dot-dot-dot. Actually, to be fair, this part isn't random. At least to me. You see, I've been reflecting lately on the power of observation. More specifically...the reality that my kids observe every little thing I wear, say and do. At times, it's harmless. Like the tapping shoes. The girls see their mom wearing them, and they want to be like mom. That's pretty cute. At other times, it's a little different. Like the eye rolls. Oh sure, other people think it's cute, and sometimes they're right. It's kinda hilarious. But when I'm trying to have a conversation with one of my children that involves discipline and they display their "skills?" Watch out. So what's the dot-dot-dot stand for? What I hope my kids observe in me...

My kids are watching me. And that scares the heck out of me sometimes. Because, to be perfectly honest, I'm not always the best role model. I have moments where I let my emotions, circumstances and frustrations get the best of me. I can be sarcastic. I can be prideful. I can actually be quite a jerk, if I really want to be. On the flip side, I am capable of having moments worthy of observation. And it's those moments that I hope they're paying attention. I want them to observe finding joy in the little things. I want them to observe perseverance in times where it would be easy to give up. I want them to observe strength in the midst of adversity. Patience. A love for the Lord. Kindness. Servant-heartedness. Compassion. A sense of humor. I want them to observe that living a life defined by who they are in Christ is always better than allowing others to define them.

Bottom line? If my kids are going to imitate me, which they will, I want to give them plenty of good stuff to observe. That shouldn't be my only reason for watching what I say and how I react to "stuff"...but I think it's a pretty darn good one.

We're all being watched. Whether by our kids, neighbors, friends, co-workers, parents, siblings or strangers standing in line at the post office. Someone is observing. It's up to each of us to determine what they are observing. And for me at least, I hope I give them more reasons to observe my delight in wearing tapping shoes than to observe the attitude in my eye rolls...

My Thoughts on...The Gift of Music

Music. In my humble opinion, it's one of the most life changing gifts God has given us. Music speaks in ways that mere words cannot even come close to. It can cause every type of emotion to surface, bring back memories, send a message, tell a story, describe a generation. You name it, and there's a song that talks about it. Purely instrumental music, not to be outdone, can do the same exact thing...with a bit of imagination and a receptive ear, it can be just as powerful as any combination of words set to a melody.

Now, perhaps I am biased. After all, I am a musician. My degree is in music. I've performed music with countless bands, choirs and ensembles. I've provided music for funerals, weddings, banquets, fundraisers, recitals, competitions and concerts. I teach private music lessons. I use music as a worship leader and have had my day in the world of musical theatre. Sounds impressive, huh? Not really. Because honestly, I don't think those things matter one little bit. In fact, there are days that I would view my experience as a distinct disadvantage. As much as I hate it, there have been many times that my brain has gotten in the way of my heart when listening to a piece of music. And at those times, I really could care less who I've studied with, what accomplishments my resume boasts of or how many people I've performed for. Because I just want to hear the music. Not analyze it. Not critique it. Not try to imitate it. I just want to soak it in.

Why a post about music tonight? Well, first of all, this is Becky's Blog. And Becky is sort of a music person. And second of all, I don't really know. How profound am I??

Maybe it's because I recently watched August Rush...a beautiful story centered around the power and depth of music.

Maybe it's because a particular song showed up on my playlist tonight. A song I was introduced to a little over a year ago. A song in which the piano introduction alone causes me to weep. Not just cry or get sentimental, but literally weep in a gut-wrenching manner.

Maybe it's because I've caught my daughters singing a lot lately. Ashlyn at the top of her lungs. Camryn in a sweet, soft way that you barely notice. Brooklyn using phrases and words that by no stretch of the imagination make any sense to anyone other than her. And it's beautiful.

Maybe it's because a good friend of mine, trying to find words to encourage me, opted to send me song lyrics instead. Lyrics written by someone else, for someone else...yet they fit my scenario perfectly. And yes, it made me cry.

Maybe it's because a few days ago another friend of mine shared an instrumental Christmas song with me. It was an original song by a composer I had never heard of...yet my friend and I sat there, motionless as we listened. We agreed - it was one of the most captivating things either one of us had ever heard. And she and I have listened to a LOT of music.

Or maybe, just maybe, it's because through all of the other "maybes" listed above, I am reminded that God Himself gave us this gift of music. And He gave it to us intentionally. Even though He knew there would be those who would use music to boost their own images, manipulate others or worship any and every false god out there. He still gave it to us. And I'm glad. Can you imagine life without music to sing along with or dance to? I can't. And frankly, I don't want to.

'Tis the season for gifts of every shape and size. James 1:17 says that "Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows." I would say that the gift of music definitely fits into the category of good and perfect.
It is able to bring healing, perspective, and joy into the hearts of those who listen.

It is able to aid us as we worship our Savior, giving Him the glory and honor that He deserves.

It is able to help us communicate when we've run out of words.

It is uniquely personal.

A gift created by and given to us by God Himself.

And what a gift it is...

Prayers of Thanks

Well, Thanksgiving 2009 is now behind us. For me, it was a pretty uneventful weekend. Which is actually a good thing. We had our normal family Thanksgiving at my grandparents house in Michigan, went shopping on Black Friday, spent time with friends, started getting Christmas decorations out, movies, football, too much food...just the typical stuff. The mental shift from fall to winter has officially taken place, and I've got Christmas on the brain even more so than before. Christmas music is being played, plans for family get togethers are being made and final preparations for a number of different special events at church take up a fair amount of my energy. But, on this last day of November, I think it's only appropriate that Thanksgiving gets a little more attention.

You see, each year, there seems to be something that stands out to me on the Monday after the Thanksgiving weekend. Sometimes it's something major, other times not so much. This year, as I put away the pumpkin decor and start untangling lights, I can't help but recall some of the prayers I heard this weekend:

The prayer of my Dads at dinner on Thursday, thanking God for Godly parents that have made their lives count. Why did this hit me? Because I truly am blessed to have awesome parents that fit that very description. But also because I know that my dad is struggling with the fact that his own parents aren't getting any younger. They're dealing with upcoming surgeries, treatments and the like. We are all thankful for my grandparents, for the lives they have lived and for each day we have with them in the future.

The prayers of my children, which were quite random. Kids really do come up with some of the best prayers ever. Sometimes, I have a hard time containing myself. I'm sure it isn't very spiritual of me to leave my eyes open in order to watch their facial expressions while they pray, let alone giggle, but I do. That's just me. Some highlights from my 4 and 5 year olds prayers of thanks this year:

Thank you that we have a tree that we will have someday when we get a tree and even have our own tree (Brooklyn tends to talk in circles sometimes, in case you didn't notice).

Thank you that I can have a trash can in my room someday (I think that was a hint.)

Thank you that we are having a good time...even Grandpa and Grandma. (not sure why it's such a stretch to believe that my folks were having fun...)

Thank you that Dad isn't going to spank us anymore (and I believe that would be another hint).

Thank you that we have such a great, great world. And a great time on our great, great world.

That last one was my favorite. If you could only see the intensity on my precious Camryns face as she prayed that. It was refreshing. It was innocent. It was genuine. And it was timely. Let's face it...our culture complains far too much. About everything and anything. Good, bad, unimportant...we can find a way to complain about it. And frankly, it's exhausting. Complaining drains the life out of every person it touches. My kids not only remind me to take joy in the little things, like having trash cans, but the big things, too. Like the great, great world God has given us.

I was touched by many other prayers of thanks this weekend. People who are thankful for provision, despite being unemployed. People who are thankful for health, despite facing some pretty tough physical conditions. People who are thankful for friends and family, even though they live far away from those they are closest to. People that are thankful for life in general, despite challenges that they face day in and day out. And while I fully realize that those who say or write their prayers of thanks don't do it for my benefit, I'm grateful that they let me listen in.

Psalm 105:1 "Give thanks to the Lord, call on His name, make known among the nations what He has done."