Wayfaring Stranger
I am a poor wayfarin' stranger
a-travelin' through this world of woe
but there's no sickness, no toil or danger
in that bright land to which I go
I'm goin' there to see my father
I'm goin' there no more to roam
I'm only goin' over Jordan
I'm only goin' over home
I know dark clouds will gather o'er me
I know my way is rough and steep
yet beauteous fields lie just before me
where their vigils keep
I'm goin' there to see my mother
She said she'd meet when when I come
I'm only goin' over Jordan
I'm only goin' over home
I'm goin' there to meet my Savior
to sing his praise forevermore
I'm only goin' over Jordan
I'm only goin' over home
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
An occasional moment
hopelessly she breathes my name
sometimes i like to entertain her for a moment
her seductive touch refined and cool
urgently whispering her bankrupt promises
of desperate escape to a fuller reality
i know everything that she says is a lie
yet on occasion indulge her as she smoothly
peddles the only elixir she has to offer
pretending she's not merely a charlatan
lacking enough substance to obscure her falsity
her thumb cheating the rational balance
as she insistently presses her point
i never forget that she is incapable of seeing truly
and soon grow weary of her myopia
tenderly and resolutely i decide
and once again turn from her anguished pleading
she will eventually have me despite my good sense
but never with my willing cooperation
sometimes i like to entertain her for a moment
her seductive touch refined and cool
urgently whispering her bankrupt promises
of desperate escape to a fuller reality
i know everything that she says is a lie
yet on occasion indulge her as she smoothly
peddles the only elixir she has to offer
pretending she's not merely a charlatan
lacking enough substance to obscure her falsity
her thumb cheating the rational balance
as she insistently presses her point
i never forget that she is incapable of seeing truly
and soon grow weary of her myopia
tenderly and resolutely i decide
and once again turn from her anguished pleading
she will eventually have me despite my good sense
but never with my willing cooperation
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Monday, October 29, 2012
One more on Karen
I feel like saying, Damn, it shouldn't be such a hole anymore, but then I realize that a whole person tends to leave a pretty big empty space behind when they're gone.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Relationships over time
I was someone's brother, once
In retrospect, this recognition of ourselves in relation to others must normally evolve over the course of our lives. For a time, while we are children, it defines us: we are our parents' son or daughter, and sometimes in some of our circles we will forever be known primarily by that relationship. Our middle daughter was lamenting last night at our parish's All Saints/All Souls bonfire that she's mostly known in the parish as "the guitar guy's daughter," which is a shame because she has plenty of involvement of her own. Likewise, I was once someone's grandson, and Shirley's son, and in some people's minds I suppose we remain defined by those relationships long after the person has died. But mostly, as we grow into our own selves, we grow out of being defined by these relationships.
Still, we expect to carry some relationships throughout our lives, not for the purpose of defining us but for the richness of the unique aspects of history and interaction that they bring to us. While there are people who know me primarily as Teri's husband, these know and appreciate that I am a person with my own unique gifts and interests, too. They know my wife far better than me, though, so that is primarily who I am to them. But the value, the treasure of being Teri's husband is not in my identity but in the relationship we share together. While it doesn't define me, it does challenge me to become who I should be. This is one example of a relationship that we expect to last most of our lives. This relationship deserves much more discussion and elaboration than I'm going to give it here, but that isn't the point . . .
We expect the same of our relationships with our children, and there is no hole in our lives that rivals the loss of one of our children. Whether through death or estrangement, no loss is quite like it. No matter how many children we have, our relationship with each of them is different, but in each case it is a person for whom we have been completely responsible for a time and, though many carry it to an unhealthy extreme, the person they become bears a reflection of us. (There's a lot to be careful of there; we can't accept too much credit for who they become, nor accept too much blame.) Yet when one of our children is gone, the loss of that reflection is not the most painful part of the emptiness they leave behind. It cannot be explained, especially by someone who has never experienced it for himself (and prays he never will).
So, too, our relationships with our siblings. I remember my eventual stepfather lecturing my sister and I when we'd argue as teenagers. Oh, how she used to yank my chain! He told us over and over again that the day would come when we would rely on each other as no one else in the world.
When she died, we were just starting to get there.
In retrospect, this recognition of ourselves in relation to others must normally evolve over the course of our lives. For a time, while we are children, it defines us: we are our parents' son or daughter, and sometimes in some of our circles we will forever be known primarily by that relationship. Our middle daughter was lamenting last night at our parish's All Saints/All Souls bonfire that she's mostly known in the parish as "the guitar guy's daughter," which is a shame because she has plenty of involvement of her own. Likewise, I was once someone's grandson, and Shirley's son, and in some people's minds I suppose we remain defined by those relationships long after the person has died. But mostly, as we grow into our own selves, we grow out of being defined by these relationships.
Still, we expect to carry some relationships throughout our lives, not for the purpose of defining us but for the richness of the unique aspects of history and interaction that they bring to us. While there are people who know me primarily as Teri's husband, these know and appreciate that I am a person with my own unique gifts and interests, too. They know my wife far better than me, though, so that is primarily who I am to them. But the value, the treasure of being Teri's husband is not in my identity but in the relationship we share together. While it doesn't define me, it does challenge me to become who I should be. This is one example of a relationship that we expect to last most of our lives. This relationship deserves much more discussion and elaboration than I'm going to give it here, but that isn't the point . . .
We expect the same of our relationships with our children, and there is no hole in our lives that rivals the loss of one of our children. Whether through death or estrangement, no loss is quite like it. No matter how many children we have, our relationship with each of them is different, but in each case it is a person for whom we have been completely responsible for a time and, though many carry it to an unhealthy extreme, the person they become bears a reflection of us. (There's a lot to be careful of there; we can't accept too much credit for who they become, nor accept too much blame.) Yet when one of our children is gone, the loss of that reflection is not the most painful part of the emptiness they leave behind. It cannot be explained, especially by someone who has never experienced it for himself (and prays he never will).
So, too, our relationships with our siblings. I remember my eventual stepfather lecturing my sister and I when we'd argue as teenagers. Oh, how she used to yank my chain! He told us over and over again that the day would come when we would rely on each other as no one else in the world.
When she died, we were just starting to get there.
Musical selections
So we're doing this piece that our director is so excited about. It's a musically interesting piece - though another motet without a guitar part; thankfully she's letting me work up a part for the next one we're doing which just screams for it - but it just doesn't do a thing for my walk.
I know, I know: it's supposed to be a great new take on an old spiritual. It really is kind of interesting musically, especially contrasted against the original spiritual. But there was no meat in it to begin with, and dressing it up with more moving and intriguing music just hides the absence of sustenance under a layer of fancy sauce.
This is the second new piece this year that I've just hated, and I think she gave us a third at last rehearsal.
Listen to the lambs, all a cryin'Seriously? Me too! The verses aren't much of an improvement.
Want to go to heaven when I die
I know, I know: it's supposed to be a great new take on an old spiritual. It really is kind of interesting musically, especially contrasted against the original spiritual. But there was no meat in it to begin with, and dressing it up with more moving and intriguing music just hides the absence of sustenance under a layer of fancy sauce.
This is the second new piece this year that I've just hated, and I think she gave us a third at last rehearsal.
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