I don't wanna be a blur in a picture.
I don't wanna be a busy girl.
I don't wanna be wrapped in the trap of a chaotic world, no, no.
As my fifth album begins to take shape in my head, I found myself singing this song in the car the other day. I wrote it several years ago as a personal reminder to reject the chaotic lifestyle so many of us lead, to discover and rediscover simple joys, to "dance, sing, lay in the grass."
This summer had many such moments to be treasured and I'm so thankful for camera's remembering eye.
But a new season is upon us. The sparse summer calendar has been replaced by a dense forest of lines and circles forming tiny words and numbers that suddenly redefine our lives. For example, every Thursday box through May looks like this: 8:30 this, 2:00 that, 3:15 this, 7:30 that. Every commitment carefully considered, prayed over, agreed to by the family, but multiplied by 5 of us, and I begin to wonder if we will not soon feel like a blur...or worst yet, slaves to the schedule.
It is not a good feeling to be a slave to anything but Christ. You know when you have given up your freedom...it becomes a tightness in your gut; you snap, crackle, and pop at your kids while putting on a carefree face to your peers, you scramble to sweep up the marbles of your day that spill and scatter across the floor.
The litmus test is food. The slave grabs for salt and sweet and caffeine to keep her going. She feeds her family overprocessed, undernourishing foods for convenience.
She lets her quiet time with God slide so she can respond to one more e-mail and google one more thing. Her house is disordered. Her kids fight. Her husband is lonely.
OK, that was hard to write. The mirror is a brutually honest friend. My interior is scarred from balls and chains.
I am not at that point, however, nor do I have to get there. No matter the level of commitments, I can keep the lens in focus by asking myself a few questions each day.
Fill: What time do I need to rise to meet with God?
Nurture: Who needs me the most today?
Nourish: What am I going to feed my family today?
Order: What are a few things we all can do to get the house in order?
Refill: When can I "lay in the grass," even for the briefest of moments?
God, my shepherd! I don't need a thing.
You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
you find me quiet pools to drink from.
True to your word,
you let me catch my breath
and send me in the right direction. Psalm 23, The Message
When that angry, controlling knot of an attitude begins to tighten like a noose, I can pause, lean into the truth, lighten the yoke, and come back to the greatest of all commands: Love. Love Him. Love them. Love the least of them. It's what sets the slave free. It's what brings the subject into focus and let's the rest pleasantly blur.
These are the words that spilled from my mouth in response to my daughter's comment. I paused, thinking, how would that sentence be interpreted as a stand-alone? So I typed it into the title bar of my blog and laughed.
What are banned s-words on Sundays?
Sin...selfishness...stress...scorn (and, of course, the s-word you were thinking!) These are words with a negative connotation, worthy of consideration and examination, but ones not to be acted out on Sundays...well, any day, if we can help it.
For fun, I opened my Bible index and scanned the s-words, in search of positive replacements. Salvation, sanctification, serve, share, silence, song. And my favorite: seamless. It reminded me of a powerful blog by Ann Voskamp called A One-Piece Life.
The Gospel, Jesus, comes to say life is meant to be all one piece. Jesus embodied the human and the divine. I can live a one piece life, an ordinary life that is wholly sacred, because the Holy Spirit resides within, this body now being the very house of God. Jesus very first miracle, turning the ceremonial cleansing water into wine for a wedding feast, thundered truth and shattered myth: there is no divide between holy and sacred. -Ann Voskamp
Really, friends, take the time to read her entire blog. It is transformational.
Are you wondering what s-word my daughter said to stir up such a response in me? She said, "Mom, you have a Stain on your skirt." Every mother neatly dressed for church who was ever trying to hurry the family out the door so they might only be 5 minutes late knows this word is dreaded. What? I have to go change my entire outfit? I don't have time!
But grace swept in. I looked down at the "stain" to find it was just a bit of pancake flour, easily brushed away. We giggled as we headed out the door with something resembling Serenity.
I'm holding a new CD in my hand. When I picked it up at the bookstore and turned to browse the songlist, I caught my breath and knew I had to have it. It was another one of those Moses moments that I blogged about recently, where you've returned to the beginning to worship, and feel the urge to remove your shoes right in the middle of the store.
The album...Re-creation. The artist...Steven Curtis Chapman. The song...More To This Life. You see, this is the song that gently, slowly turned my heart of stone into a heart of flesh. It asked a simple question of my skeptic's mind so many years ago: Are you waiting for lightning while he quietly whispers your name? It was like John's voice in the desert, preparing the way for when I would, most certainly, discern His quiet whispers.
Back then, in college, the CD was a gift from my heartsister, Tracy, in hopes that it would plant a seed. This time, the CD, which contains many remakes of songs from that anointed disc, was a gift to myself. A memorial stone. The cabin of my car, a music-filled altar.
Now for the cherry on the top....my friend Karmen managed to get us the last two tickets to: Steven Curtis Chapman, Re-Creation, live in concert, Rochester, Minnesota! With, pinch myself, Andrew Peterson and Josh Wilson, two of my favorite songwriters.
And if Mr. Chapman chooses to sing More To This Life on that night in October, I will, indeed, take off my shoes.
