There’s a question that I get asked a lot that I can almost never answer –
“Who’s your favorite artist?”
Part of the reason this is so hard is that I have a hard time picking a favorite of anything – movie, tv show, food, song. I don’t like having a favorite.
But the other reason I can’t answer this question is that it’s almost impossible for me to pick one. I think people who ask me that question probably think, she likes music-she could probably narrow it down to one. Wrong. I like music so this question is inviting me to either give you an “off the top of my head” list of current faves or my “standards.” Either way the answer will always be incomplete, if only in my own eyes.
But recently I’ve been qualifying this question with things like – Top 5 Influential Artists to my taste. Or Top 5 acoustic bands. You get the hint.
So recently I decided to make a playlist with some of my Top Influential Artists. Meaning artists who have inspired my own personal taste in music or inspired me personally. I decided to share it on here so enjoy, maybe look a few of these artists up.
1. You May Be Right by Billy Joel
Billy Joel was a constant in my childhood. My mom loves his music, plus he’s from New Jersey which is where I grew up for a period of my life. So there’d be times where he’s singing about a place and I’d be like – I KNOW WHERE THAT IS! Little pleasures for kids. I remember singing the line “You may be right!? I may be Crazy!?” at the top of my lungs in the car with my family. Each of us pointing at another person.
2. I Want to Hold Your Hand by the Beatles
Another family favorite – the Beatles. I recently inherited some of my Dad’s old albums, including all of his Beatles collection. This band is the cornerstone that my music passion is built on. And this song especially makes me smile.
3. Chasing the Sun by Sara Bareilles.
This is a current fav of this lady. Sara B. is one of the first female artists that I fell in love with (you’ll notice she’s nearly alone on this list). She has an amazing talent for song writing and for making me laugh, reflect and sing out in one album. Every song of hers is golden but this one is particularly great (at the moment).
4. Love Soon by John Mayer
Yes, I’m that girl. I love John Mayer. He’s a great songwriter and I DO NOT apologize for loving his acoustic goodness. This song was an early favorite and probably a reason that if you give me an acoustic guitar sound with a male voice, chances are I will love the song.
5. The Authority Song by Jimmy Eat World
The other dat the Kindergarten Teacher was over and opened my CD drawer and made the comment that there was a lot of Jimmy Eat World CDs. That’s because I used to be obsessed with them. I had a more punky edge back in the day and Jimmy Eat World helped me process a lot of teenage angst.
6. Hey Ya by Obadiah Parker
My first ever acoustic cover. Long before Boyce Avenue and Tyler Ward and other youtube obsessions there was this cover of the Outkast hit. And I loved it (still do.)
7. Dark Blue by Jack’s Mannequin
Andrew McMahon is a writing genius. And most often they release a CD that seems to help me process whatever big even is happening in my life at the time. This song is the perfect late night, windows down song. The lyrics “this night’s a perfect shade of Dark Blue” is almost always on my mind in the summer.
8. Something to Talk About by Bonnie Raitt
My dad loved some Bonnie Raitt. And man, this song was on repeat in our house a lot. I still know all the words and love to sing them out!
9. Melody by Aaron Espe
My friend The Bass Player and I used to say that there was no problem a little Aaron Espe couldn’t fix. And it’s true. The way he writes songs and interweaves his faith with the world around him is amazing. Fast songs, slow songs, songs that hit you in the heart break and songs that make you happy to be alive. He’s got a little of everything.
10. End and Beginning by Jason Stocker
Jason was one of the first people who showed me what it was like to worship God musically. Like really worship. It was with him that I learned to sing harmonies, I found the confidence to sing in front of people and I learned what it meant to sing songs that declared truths of who God was. His worship music is amazing and I love each and every song.
11. See You Later, See You Soon by Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers
This band. Oh man. I honestly don’t even remember how I discovered this band. But I have two of their CDs. This was the first band that I felt like I could call my own – as dumb as it sounds it was my first “grown up” band that I fell in love with. It was hard just picking one song. It’s seriously … seriously.
So that’s it, the tip of the iceberg, but 11 songs my some of my most influential artists. They are the founders of the music I’m into now. The ones I look back at fondly, remembering the early discoveries and branching out of my musical ruts that I tend to get into.
So who influences your musical tastes?
I'm old but I'm not that old, I'm young but I'm not that bold
I’m taking a little bit of a break from my busy week to update this little corner of the internet.
In the midst of preparations for Advent and Christmas Eve, I’m realizing that I haven’t really gotten much chance to enjoy the recent truth that I have a call. I have been called as a Pastor. For so long I’ve lived in temporary terms. As a teenager, as a college student, as an intern, as a seminary student, as an interim – just filling in. I’ve been waiting for so long to finally know where I was going to set down roots. I’ve been dreaming of picking out an apartment, furniture, setting up my desk and find a new normal.
And while yes, some of those things are still in my near future, it looks different. It looks different because I’m getting to stay at this amazing little church that I’ve been at for a year and a half now. So a new routine – not necessarily. Plus the call came in the middle of Advent – the craziest season for those of us called to work in the church. It came in the midst of budget reports, staff evaluations and retreat planning.
But it is joyous news all the same. As of January 1st, I will be Pastor of Children, Families and Administration in my little corner of the world. So here we go.
but it's all our hearts can take
I’ve had some good conversations recently. We all know that the majority of my time in Seminary I’ve been struggling through this notion of grief and suffering in the Church and how we deal with it. I’ve written papers, given presentations, walked alongside others, shared my own experiences…overall I’ve tried to enter into this story that we so often shy away from as a church community.
Today I found myself pondering it once again. I know some people in the middle of a struggle that is hard. It’s not fair and it’s heartbreaking. And the worse part of it all is when I feel like I have nothing left to say and my encouragements of “this too shall pass” sound empty and a lot like platitudes. I have so much faith that God will redeem these hard situations and that his hand is at work even though it feels like He’s not.
And I know this because I’ve been there. I remember being in the middle of the struggle just praying for a bone to be thrown. Praying that the hardship will pass and the waters would calm. And they did. I’ve lived through them and can honestly say that the waters subside and new life begins. And my story is richer because of this.
But I also understand that in the midst, it’s hard to see past the waters crashing over your head. And even as I walk beside these friends and try to hold their hands-I find myself thinking, “I know that this is going to make a great story but right here right now – It hurts.” And I know that if I find myself thinking that, how much more do the others feel it?
As I processed this all with some friends this morning, I was realizing that my heart is much more attached than I thought it was. I have grown attached to these friends, I love them and want their pain to stop defining their lives. I am so angry that they have been dealt this hand and that their lives are forever changed by it.
And then I read this post on The Deeper Family. In this post the author talks about tipping the scale. His wife, the mother of his three children, died suddenly. Life dealt them a short hand, tipping the scale to one side. In this post the author boldly searches to accept this loss and live in spite of it, to choose to tip the scale back to find its balance.
I’ve never thought about accepting that tragedy does define us. We have to stop pretending it doesn’t. It does define our lives, we live in a new reality. But that doesn’t mean we have to let tragedy diminish our lives. We can choose to live into the faith that God will redeem the short hand dealt to us by life.
Once we accept that the scale has been tipped, we can tip it back into balance with the way we live our lives in spite of tragedy.
Beautiful concept, and totally liveable.
if this waiting lasts forever
I have a friend that for the purpose of this blog we’ll call Arkansas. He’d understand why. Anyway, he’s in youth ministry and there was a time in which we were in youth ministry together. Then I went off to Seminary and he got his first full time gig as a youth pastor. He’s starting seminary this fall and wrote this blog about why he is going to seminary. As I read it, it resonated a lot with me.
It doesn’t surprise me that Arkansas and I have similar reasons for being in this thing called Seminary, or that we both struggle with the question of what we come out the other side with – a Masters, a better knowledge of all things biblical, a job (hopefully). It also doesn’t surprise me that Arkansas found a way to articulate these things more eloquently before even taking his first class than I can even after two years. He’s always had a way with words.
This morning I sat across te table from a woman in our congregation and got to hear all about her life. We sat there and got to know each other over breakfast and unlimited refills. It was a slow and easy conversation about the places God has entered and guided our lives. After I left breakfast, I drove over to the church and caught up on some emails, chatted with my coworkers and helped to set up a worship station for service on Sunday. As I drove away from church I thought to myself, this is what my life will look like from now on.
Ministry is a fickle creation. It’s got it’s ups and downs like any other job. I’m not trying to paint a romantic picture of it, it has it’s struggles. And sometimes those struggles hurt more deeply than we could imagine.
But then there’s those moments when it’s all worth it. When you get to sit across from someone and hear how God is working in their life. You get to enter into life with people and dwell in the grace of God alongside of them. It’s magical.
I was asked this morning if I had always planned on going to Seminary. I did my usual laugh and “Oh, no. I never planned on Seminary, in fact I planned on NOT going to Seminary.” Which made me realize, that without Seminary I would not be sitting across from this woman in this particular breakfast place. I wouldn’t be the person who was sitting across from her.
I’m not saying that the girl that worked alongside Arkansas wasn’t good at ministry. Or that the woman graduating from Seminary will be completely ready for anything ministry will throw towards her. All I know is that this road of Seminary was a much needed detour in my life. One that has and will continue to add color to the tapestry that God is creating from my life.
i can't imagine all the people that you know and the places that you go
I was sitting in Church this morning being challenged by a visiting pastor to think differently at the story found in John 4:43-54. It’s a story of a father, grasping at straws for the healing of his son. He goes to Jesus because he’s tried everything, he thinks his son is going to die so in a last ditch kind of effort he goes to Jesus and begs for Jesus to come with him to his son’s bedside and heal him. The pastor was asking us to imagine with him what its like to be a parent trying to hold onto hope out of love for a child. That the love for your child brings about a hope that requires you to have. That’s a bit about what he was talking about, but that’s not what this post is about…
The pastor was calling on moments in his families life that help him relate to this story. He showed pictures of his beautiful daughter and told stories of her struggles and achievements. It was as if he was asking all the parents in the room to imagine with him what the father of this child was feeling in John. Now, I’m all about relating the bible to stories in your own life to be able to identify (well most of the time), but I struggle with this at times being “that girl” whose childhood wasn’t all roses and butterflies. So I’ll be a little honest, I was getting a tad bit grumpy.
Then I remembered this one memory of my childhood. In all honesty, it was probably one of the most defining moments of my pre-adolescence. I was in the 7th grade and was getting ready for this “teen night” at my school that was called Teen Canteen. There’s dancing, sports, refreshments, games…it was the best night of the month to any 6-8th grader at Eric S Smith Middle School. I remember this one particular night as I got ready there was a weird feeling in my house. Something wasn’t quite right. But being the 12-year-old girl that I was – I was more interested in how I looked for my night than to ask what was up with my family. So I left for my night without concern. I came home later that night to my dad sitting alone, in the dark, in our living room. I walked in and saw that he had been crying. I sat on the couch opposite of him and asked him what was wrong. To this day I can almost see the two of us sitting there as he told me that one of my uncles, his brother-in-law, had committed suicide.
I remember thinking to myself “why hadn’t he told me before I left?” I remember instantly feeling guilty for my night of fun because he had been at home, crying. But as I grew up I realized that he knew this news was going to change me. That my childhood would be shifted with this news and that he wanted one more night of normalcy for me before we had to talk about funerals, flights to Colorado, missing a school field trip. I remember having to tell my choir teacher that I couldn’t go see Phantom of the Opera in the city because we were flying to Colorado for a funeral. I remember all the looks of pity my teachers gave me as I got my homework to do on the plane.
I remember seeing the brokenness of my family in real and astonishingly new ways. It was the first funeral I remember attending for someone I was close to. I remember asking really hard questions about why and not getting answers. But mostly I remember that was the last time I remember my dad having strength. Something changed in him too, I can see it now all these years later.
I see this moment in my life as the first time I felt true pain, true brokenness. It wouldn’t be for another few years that I would find Christ and understand for myself how hope and faith flow out of a love that is incomprehensible.
Which I think is why Paul says in 1 Corinthians 13: “So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three: but the greatest of these is love.” (ESV).
eight years old – down by the river was the best place you could be
I’ve been oddly nostalgic today. I’m not really sure why, but it is happening so I’ve decided to go with it, see where it takes me.
Most of you know that I have an older brother. Two and a half years my senior, my brother was always my biggest rival and confidante at the same time. We raised all sorts of heck together as kids. He suckered me into a lot of probably dangerous things in our childhood, things that I look back on now as some of the dumbest things I did as a child. He got me into a lot of trouble with our parents, his motto was always, “send the cute one.” So whenever we were up to something, he would send me in because of course, I was the baby of the family, I could do no wrong. He always thought of me as the little princess that could melt my parents hearts with one smile. I always thought this was absurd. I was no princess and I was never spoiled, he made it all up in his head. (well, probably not, he was probably right).
But growing up as the little sister to a big brother has it’s drawbacks. Without a big sister to teach you how to be a girl you’re stuck playing in creeks with frogs, knowing how to throw the perfect spiral and knowing how to tackle someone twice your size. You become better at Super Mario Brothers than painting your nails, better at applying eye black than eye liner and better at wearing sneakers that are too big than high heels that are too big.
Since becoming an adult I’ve retrospectively learned most of these things that I never learned as a kid. I’ve even held onto those skills that he taught me too. But sometimes I look at my life, the things I love to do and I can draw a line straight back to my brother (and my dad). I look at who I am and think about how it occurred. I still have that wild sense of adventure instilled by my older brother. I still love sports. I’m still oddly fascinated by frogs. I am still the little sister to a big brother.
Even though that big brother is all grown up now with two little girls of his own. And this little sister lives 1200 miles away from him, in a grad program neither one of us would have imagined for me. It’s funny to think back to where we’ve come from in order to see why we’ve become who we’ve become.
The picture above, of course, shows my brother and I in matching Ghostbusters sweatshirts. I mean, duh.
I'm walking on the wire and you're holding me steady
I’ve moved around a lot. I moved as a toddler, as a high school student, right after college, then a year later, then two years later, then a year later… So you could say that this type of lifestyle doesn’t exactly breed deep, long lasting friendships. I grew up in a small town where you know everyone in town and everyone knows you. I moved early on in high school to a school that opened brand new and no one really knew each other. So graduating high school was great, but wasn’t with people I had known my whole life. Back then we didn’t even really have many ways to keep in touch with those people I grew up with.
I have one friend that I keep in touch with from high school. And the irony of that is we didn’t even know each other in high school. We met in a bible study in college. I commuted all four years of college and didn’t make a ton of close friends in Boulder. Although I had close friends that I made outside of school. Then I graduated from college and moved away. I lived in MI for 6 months, then moved home, then to Kansas City where I stayed a year and a half. Then Colorado for a year, and now I’m starting my second year in Chicago.
I should also mention, I kind of suck at long distance friendships. Twitter/phones/blogs/google+ etc makes it a little easier but altogether I’m pretty bad at it. So I have that going against me.
Then add in that I’m probably the worst friend to my closest friends. I know how backwards that sounds but I am flighty at times. I am a text book social butterfly and constantly need to be moving. I’m also a text book non-innitiater. Add those things together it’s super easy for my closest friends to feel the most neglected. So there’s another strike.
But the thing is, I long for those close relationships. I long to have people just get me, understand why certain things enrage me, make me cry, make me laugh. Those are the relationships that fuel me, that make me really feel loved. And I dream of some day being able to say “Oh, we’ve been friends for 20/30/40 years”. I want to have those relationships, but knowing that I’m not very good at them makes it difficult.
I becamse increasinly aware of this and thankful for grace last night. I was sitting on the couch next to my best friend and after a night mix-ups and delays, we were celebrating their 5th anniversary with pizza and their dvr. I remember their wedding like it was yesterday. I remember them meeting a year before that and walking alongside of her while she realized this was the man she loved and wanted to spend her life with. She’s the person who knows the most about me on this earth. As we were sitting there, casually catching up on our weeks, I made some remark about an immature decision I made that week, and she called me on it without missing a beat. With no more than 10 words she gave me about 15 reasons why I needed to walk away from this particular situation. It was amazing. A task only she could accomplish that efficiently.
See, relationships take a lot of work up front. We all know that. It takes dedication and vulnerability. But the long term takes work too. It takes phone calls, email, visits, intentionality. All things I’m less than great at. Which is why I am thankful for the grace of my close friends, you know who you are, who allow me to be forgetful, call me out on it and talk it out so we can move on.
Friendships. When done right are a phenomenon. They don’t make sense that people could possibly love you this much and you them. It’s not logical that we can learn to depend on someone else in a way that we do our friends. It’s not logical to let someone in that far, with the chance to break your heart. And yet, we do it. Sometimes it turns out well, sometimes it hurts like hell. But one thing’s for sure. It’s totally worth it.
Cause like I’ve said on here before, friends can’t actually change things in your life to make it suck less. But they can sit around a table with you, on a roof in Chicago and make you laugh. They can encourage you, speak to your soul, love you when you don’t love yourself and basically, be Jesus to you.
So go out, tell those you love the most that you appreciate them. And try to be Jesus to them, learn to love them better.
you may tire of me, as our december sun is setting, cause I'm not who I used to be
Is it bad that I had to just go back to my last entry to remember my clever(less) little nickname for this January experiment? I’m going to take your silence as “no”… or maybe you responded “yes” in your head as to not hurt my feelings. Either way, that’s how my brain works (er, doesn’t work).
I added to the list the book The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold lended to me by my friend Jill. For those of you who don’t know (read: living under a rock) it’s the book that’s being released as a movie with the same title. It’s told from the point of view of Susie Salmon who is a jr high girl who died and is now in heaven looking down on her family as they cope/try to find answers about her death. I’m already about halfway through.
I’ve also completed 2 other books that are in a series of 4 books that I refuse to mention or discuss on this blog because of the fact that I KNOW I will be mocked my many people. I’m only saying this to feel accomplished to have finished two books already this month.
Which brings me to today. I got back from bible study and immediately sat down in the very oversized LazyBoy chair that has taken residence in my house for a long time. This chair is made of a black leather that has been worn soft and cushy over the years. I call it very oversize because it’s pretty big, it used to easily fit me and my puppy Zoe who we got when I was a senior in HS and who my mom gave up for adoption after I left for MI. boo. (Joey, our new dog, has no desire to cuddle with me). It also fits very comfortably my goddaughter and I when we like to snuggle up and watch TV together. But this afternoon it held just me, all curled up, with a book. I should not neglect to add that this chair was picked out and purchased by my dad and became known as “Dad’s Chair,” meaning we were not allowed to sit in it unless he was not home.
On the end table next to me is my little travel iHome holding my iPod playing mellow music starting with the Swell Season and followed by Snow Patrol.
All afternoon I’ve been curled up alternating between The Lovely Bones and Everybody Wants to Go to Heaven but Nobody Wants to Die (EWHNWD). It’s been a particularly rough day today in my attempts to grieve and not shut myself down. Which makes me think I shouldn’t sitting here reading these two books but alas, here I am.
As I read the Crowder/Hogan book, I came across a passage I’d like to share on here, as it has been running through my mind and needs out. This book is split into various sections that they go back and forth between. One of the sections is called “Conversations” where they put in a IM exchange between the two authors as kind of a running commentary on the parts that immediately proceed it. They also put in italics what they are thinking as they write to each other. It’s fascinating and sometimes hilarious to see where their minds go.
In most of the parts David Crowders thoughts are on his pastor Kyle’s death and the days following. In today’s part (4) he talks about going out for milkshakes with friends after the funeral and being in chilis and hearing a Death Cab song. He reflects on music first, then on this specific song and how he felt in that moment. He says:
How music now invades our
experiences withough permission. How it has
become unavoidable. There is always music
playing. When did this happen? When did we
decide that we need music everywhere?
Didn’t we realize what impact this
would have?Arbitrarily shaping what we feel
and what we will forever associate with this or that
experience? We are hopeless.
…..
I couldn’t believe Death Cab was coming through the
Chili’s speakers. Then. Why then?!
That moment was too volatile. It is reckless to
have this kind of music playing in such a public
space. And it wasn’t the sound of
“settling.” Ben was getting this moment all
wrong. Settling is a quiet and floating thing.
This was the sound of something too terrifically
loud and damaged and crumpled, and it was
rolling over me, and i simply could not believe
what I was having to listen to.
That night. After carrying my
friend in his coffin. After putting him in the
back of a hearse. A hearse! I put my friend in a
hearse!! After taking him back out and setting
him over his grave, Ben freaking Gibbard was
singing in his whiny little voice, and my heart
was tugged ffrom where it hung in my chest
and was suddenly sitting in front of me on the
table at Chili’s. And nothing was settling!
……
No. There was nothing settling in that
moment, yet the music played on, and Ben
kept singing and singing, and there I was,
forced to listen. But part of me loved
the sad, whiny song, even though
he wasn’t playing fair. Why was his voice
pulling my heart out of my chest?
Why would he do this to me? I wanted to cry.
I wanted to cry a cry that wouldn’t contort my
face and scare everyone. I didn’t believe what
Ben was singing. If it was “settling” I could’ve
cried a cry that was less fierce and horric.
The thing that came in waves left me hunched
and caused my body to shake and my mouth
to stretch out and out to the point it looked
almost like I was smiling. You would think
it was a smile except for the ridiculous wail coming
from my gut and out my throat with enough
force to throw wide my mouth. I understand now
the word gutteral. I was tired of this crying.
And Ben freaking Gibbard was doing this on
purpose. He was taking advantage of the
situation. I didn’t want this kind of crying. I
wanted to cry a quiet, settling cry.
I’ve been there all too recently and all too frequently. It’s funny how music is constantly shaping our experiences. I remember the song playing in the ambulance after our accident last February. I remember the song playing when I decided to move to MI in uncertaintly. My friend remembers the song playing just before she gave birth to her only daughter.
Music is everywhere and as someone who loves music, I don’t oppose. But there are moments and songs that seem to rip into our being and we’ll always remember that moment and how that song perfectly fit or how it made us almost fall apart in public.