Just got back from a too-short trip to Cincinatti. Drove there yesterday and back today. My friend LBB had her baby sometime in the last two weeks, and the baptism was this morning. In an Episcopal Reformed Church. I had forgotten how much I like the Book of Common Prayer. And I so knew the 'Gloria in Excelsis' when we sang it at the end of the service. The timing was a little different than I remember from my Lutheran childhood, but the glory to God is the same.
Spent time with AD too--out having beer and burgers. Then we went to hold the baby and relate to the parents. They were so tired--poor mama and papa. But happy to see us.
This is a quick update on a topic that deserves an entry all its own (but I'm so tired that this is all I can manage tonight)--the man who said he would never court is courting. Well, maybe I can talk her into splitting the difference--I'll call it dating and she'll call it courting. One of my friends told her, "We're just glad someone likes Mike." Right. Uh huh. Thanks for the vote of confidence!
But maybe now we can get these soul-baring late-night phone calls under control.
I've been asking her for pictures so she sent me her old driver's license!
Mr. Coffee is at work, and Mr. Banker just left for breakfast, so I get to play Bryan Adams really loud. I'm gonna Wake Up The Neighbors. 'Cause you gotta know that The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is You.
Ongoing activities:
- sorting through my cd's; need to make a holtonian-like mckay's run
- the flower/herb patch is in serious need of attention
- laundry
- serious, serious considerations of love, life, and love life following a four and a half hour phone conversation on Tuesday night
- sleeping whenever I can
- praying whenever I can
- swimming
- listening to the new Amy Grant cd; it's beauty-licious
Will write more later. Must go get ready for influx of new students on campus.
I watch you sleeping
My weary heart rises up on wings
I hear your laughter
Something deep down inside me sings
Way down here in the land of cotton
You were born on a rainy day
Since then sweet things long forgotten
They just keep flooding back my way
Oh, child
I cannot tell you
How the time just flies
I have had my days of glory under sunny skies
But these days
Your bright dreams are all I want to see
Sleep tight, baby child, you can always count on me
In this cold world folks will judge you
Though they don't know you at all
And I may not be there to catch you
Anytime that you might fall
But you got my hard head and your mother's grace
All the likeness of the loved ones
Right there in your face
I know that in the end you'll be who you will be
Sleep tight, baby child, you can always count on me
--Don Henley
Last night was my last night at the Safari Pub. Josiah, I wish I could continue as your new favorite bartender (we all need a favorite bartender), but it wasn't possible after I made $2 in tips on Tuesday night. That was my breaking point. I just snapped. NO MORE! I will probably stop in there some, since they've got the cheapest draft Newcastle Brown in town. It's always more fun to be the customer anyway, you can leave when you want to. Ironically, I made a good amount of money last night, but it was because my replacement brought a bunch of her devoted clientele. And they drank. A good bit. We didn't sell any food items--it was all liquid.
1. Imagine this moment: Remixes. Perfect weather. Driving the perfect road. In a jeep. Top down. On Saturday with nowhere to be, nothing to do.
2. The singability of the phrase 'Do you believe in life after love?'
2 1/2. Then add in: 'I know that I'll get through this, 'cause I know that I am strong.' It's a dose of empowerment when you may not have the strength to believe in yourself, your self-worth, your ability to keep on going. When you can't find the courage to face what the day brings or what tomorrow looks like, Cher can help.
3. Endurability. She's had popular music in every decade since the 60's. She just keeps on going.
4. To Nicholas Cage in _Moonstruck_: 'SNAP OUT OF IT!'
5. The weirdness of her delivering Sonny Bono's eulogy and completely breaking down.
5 1/2 The weirdness of her singing Bono's song "Where The Streets Have No Name."
6. The moment in _Mask_ when she tells the doctor off.
7. Her explanation of the visual extravagance of her last tour. 'You know, if we didn't do all this, drag queens all over America would be aghast. "Girl, she has lost it. There were no costume changes, there were no sequins..."' And then she told off all the teen pop stars: 'Follow this, b******.'
8. It is just pop music and good for a moment, probably not important, but it's jolly good fun for a second.
9. It's good breakup music. You suck. You treat me badly. I'm too good for you. I'm outta here.
10. It is character-building to like the work of someone who everyone else despises. Builds loyalty.
11. Provides everyone ideas for Christmas presents for you. 'Hey, I found this "beautiful" t-shirt for you on ebay...I hope you love it and that I'm enabling your obsession.'
Sometimes it is 2 o'clock in the morning in my heart when it is only 10 pm in the actual space-time continuum. It is at those moments when all the Cher songs in the world don't help and insecurities unlock their fun little cages so they can wreak havoc on my psyche and I think I'm really seeing reality. I forget that I am to find my identity in Christ and not in another person. It seems that love just can't be found, and love's supply don't meet love's demand.
The night passes in imaginary conversations, and finally I turn to Tylenol PM so that I can get a couple hours of sleep. I guess one of the great things about being in my 30's is that I have learned to function on not-so-much sleep.
This morning I grabbed my journal and accidentally turned to the Fanta bottle labels that I brought home from Romania. And I remembered all the laughter, which is a kind of love, from that trip. All the amazing moments (luggage falling on the road, the stuffed deer, the nighttime discussions and prayers, the Oakster, preaching, trying to sing Romanian hymns, stopping for ice cream) came flooding back. So today I know that there are other kinds of love, and that maybe my life isn't going to include the romantic love I think I need. Maybe I am going to have a different kind of sanctification than most of the people I know. Maybe I am called to show and experience different kinds of love.
Just don't pity me because my life doesn't look like yours. It pretty much hasn't ever, and maybe I am so unique that it won't. The best things you can do for me are: walk with me when you can, answer the phone when I call, let me play with your kids, let me hold your babies so they can slobber all over me, and pray for me. Let me be who I am, going far and fast for God, looking for more grace, looking for more of Jesus, finding the edge, being wacky and vulnerable. Pray for me whose place is not necessarily any place but where God sends me. Be the church, the community of believers that grounds me and welcomes me. Let me see your open arms.
And when I say that it's a big season in Lonelytown, that I'm part of the crowd in the crazy house, that I've been knocked out of the ring, remind me of who I am. Show me tomorrow.