Sorry if you've got a Santa hanging out on your mantel with the shepherds and the Wise Guys, but I've always been in the Gag Me camp.
I know some people love incorporating Jolly Old Saint Nick into their beloved creche scenes, melding legend with the holy, but as for me, no no no.
Not to offend anyone, but just the sight of Kris Kringle kneeling in the straw gives me a bad case of chiggers. What's next? Might I suddenly forget the words to Silent Night and burst into a chorus of Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer?
But now that I've seen the video below, I can sorta (kinda) understand the idea. It's Grammy nominated, Dove award winning singer/songwriter Kyle Matthews singing "Everything Santa Knows," a song that has me changing my tune on the Santa front. A friend of Kyle's made the video with his kids and it's really fun to watch. And careful, if you're the tiniest bit of a Santa scrooge like me, it might even get you thinking!
I'm sure I'll still keep Santa a safe distance from the holy babe, but I get the intention. The guy in the red suit is an admirer, just like the rest of us. And I have to say, a bit of a copycat. (Just kidding, Santa. Love you!) Enjoy, friends!
My eighteen year old got his first pair of glasses on Saturday. His reaction was just what I hoped it would be. "Look! Blades of grass! I can see individual leaves on that tree! I can't believe what I've been missing!"
It got me singing this song...
And it got me thinking of the time I taught the words to my kids. We were living in France then and the kids loved the song. I remember one morning when the sun came out from behind the clouds on our way to school. There we were, driving down Cours Sablon, the whole car singing:
I can see clearly now, the rain is gone, I can see all obstacles in my way Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright) Sun-Shiny day.
I do love that song. I've gotta sing a little more. I think I can make it now, the pain is gone All of the bad feelings have disappeared Here is the rainbow I've been prayin' for It's gonna be a bright, bright, bright Sun-Shiny day.
I looked at the weather report this morning and sure enough, there will be nothin' but blue skies heading our way this week, with temps in the upper eighties and low nineties. But I know that with many of us, maybe including myself, we'll still have rain to deal with. We'll still have dark clouds overhead and obstacles that stand in our way. We can see clearly, but they're still there. Today I'm thankful that even when we're standing in the rainstorm with no sun in sight, even when the dark cloud seems to follow us around, God promises to stand with us. We are not alone. It's a hopeful thing!
"...Ive been trying to get down To the heart of the matter But my will gets weak and my thoughts seem to scatter But I think its about forgiveness Forgiveness..."
Do you ever turn on the radio and wonder if God is trying to tell you something? We were bopping down the road on Sunday, headed for college with a load of stuff too big for Sarah's little car, when Don Henley preached me a message.
Hadn't I just been thinking about forgiveness? A couple of teens whom I know and love had come to me, frustrated. I listened to their anger and remembered the time long ago when the veil fell and I discovered that adults were just as messed up as everyone else. That they do things they know that are wrong. That they make big mistakes, give in to their weaknesses, and then they put on their Sunday clothes, take a seat in the pew, and pretend nothing ever happened. Or maybe that's just what it looks like.
I'd listened to the sadness in their voices, the anger at hypocrisy, and I nodded at the feelings I knew so well. I'd said the same thing years ago. What could I tell them?
I reminded them that we're all human, that we all make mistakes. I fed them the line someone told me, (old but true,) that church isn't a museum for saints, but a hospital for sinners. And I said that this is exactly why Grace is so Amazing. It didn't satisfy them or make them feel much better, really.
I finally stopped talking, remembering my own disappointment. It's taken years for life to teach me about grace. In fact, I'm still trying to learn it, to give grace and forgiveness to others, to forgive and give grace to myself. Grace is God-born. No wonder it's so impossible to patch it together on our own.
No worries, Becky. God will teach them how to do it. They'll need grace and forgiveness themselves, and they'll learn to share it with others.
Don Henley finished his song, and then Todd turned on his Ipod. First song? "What Was It That I Just Said," by John Gorka.
...It's not just that my pride's been hurt Not just that my heart's been bruised Fell down on my big ideas It's gotten me a bit confused
Unless you are a true bad boy Your conscience is a constant threat Time for a new idea One to discard regret
Prime time to forgive Prime time to forget What was that that I just said? What was that that I just said? What was that that I just said?
Oh, worry's such a waste of time It's better not to second-guess Maybe I should just pick a town One where I never made a mess
Move along when the crowd is right Stand alone when the crowd is wrong I always had the lone wolf ways Distilled the instinct to get to gone
Prime time to forgive Prime time to forget What was that that I just said? What was that that I just said? What was that that I just said?
Okay, God. I hear You! Maybe I ought to carry around an Ipod when kids talk to me. Do you have any other forgiveness songs to add to my list? :)
Other thoughts on forgiveness? What would you tell my young friends?
Happy Belated Independence Day! And yes, apparently pigs celebrate it too, though I bet that one wouldn't mind a little independence of his own, a chance to stroll his piggy toes freely through the amber waves of grain, untethered by pig leashes of any kind. (Full disclosure: Watch out pigs. I love bacon.)
Did you have a fun 4th? I love the holiday, the small town parades with fire engines and dogs wearing hats, the red, white, and blue bunting and the hot dogs and hamburgers, the pigs on parade. There's just an eensy weensy part that makes me nervous. Okay, two parts, if you count the trepidation I feel as my husband and young pyromaniac set off Crazy Bob firecrackers on the driveway and then dance around with their arms in the air, laughing like mad scientists.
I guess my tummy just starts to percolate whenever people start tumbling God words and GO USA words all together. Does this ever make you nervous too?
I love my country madly. Our four years in France gave me a new gratitude for the American can do spirit, our beautiful optimism, our willingness to reach out our hands to help those in need. I'm thankful for people like my grandfather, who died ensuring the freedoms we hold dear, for people like my husband and my brother in law, who've given years of their lives in service to our country. We have such a rich heritage and live with privileges and rights unavailable to so many others in the world. We've been richly blessed.
But as a Christian, I pledge my foremost allegiance to God, a God who loves all of his children as much as any others. So when I look at the freedoms and the blessings that I enjoy and then survey the world and see the need around me, what do I do with that?
As always, God can help me work this out. Gathering to pray and think with other believers usually makes things clearer. Take a look at the scripture we read in worship.
For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery. For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence,*14 but through love become slaves to one another. For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ Galatians 5: 1, 13-14
Although Paul wrote these words to remind the Galatians that Christ frees them from legalism in their faith, from the overwhelming list of rules on diet and circumcision, the message speaks to us as well, warning us against self indulgence, self focus, perhaps against isolationism and nationalism.
It was a beautiful morning of worship. We heard an awesome sermon, sang O Beautiful for Spacious Skies and My Country, 'Tis of Thee. But when the choir stood to sing This is My Song, voila, my need for Pepto Bismol vanished.
Do you know the song? It's a Finnish anthem, Methodist hymn, and a new favorite of mine. Joan Baez sings a version of the first two verses here, if you're interested. This is my song, oh God of all the nations, a song of peace for lands afar and mine. This is my home, the country where my heart is; here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine; but other hearts in other lands are beating with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.
My country's skies are bluer than the ocean, and sunlight beams on clover leaf and pine. But other lands have sunlight too and clover, and skies are everywhere as blue as mine. This is my song, oh God of all the nations; a song of peace for their land and for mine.
This is my prayer, o Lord of all earth's kingdoms Thy kingdom come on earth thy will be done. Let Christ be lifted up till all shall serve him. And hearts united learn to live as one. Oh hear my prayer, o God of all the nations. Myself I give thee; let thy will be done.
So today as I look at our flag hanging from my porch, I'll thank God for his many blessings, and sing a Tiny Tim prayer for all the nations. God bless us, every one.
Tell me, as you splash around in the morning-after patriotism, how does this strike you? Have you had the same questions? I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Have you seen the movie, O Brother Where Art Thou? The film begins with the escape of three friends, Everett, Pete, and Delmar from a chain gang in rural, depression era Mississippi. Still in leg irons, they set out to retrieve the $1.2 million in treasure that Everett stole from an armored car and buried before his incarceration, and they've got to find it fast. In four days, the whole valley will be flooded to create Arkabutla Lake, and all hopes for riches will be lost.
It's a modern retelling of Homer's Odyssey, and it's hilarious and scary and has an amazing soundtrack that burrows under your skin like ringworm. A gorgeous, soulful ringworm, but still.
We watched it again at the beach last week, and ever since we got back home, I've been singing Man of Constant Sorrow and When I Went Down to the River to Pray. I'm crazy about both of those songs, but my family is beginning to wish they could figure out how to change my channel.
Then yesterday, as I fiddled with this blog, adding photos of our French life to the French Living page, I came across this picture. Yes, that man in the black coat is actually me. (I know it's not fashionable, but I'm a Carolina girl who gets cold in the snow, so sorry.) It was taken during the first year of our French life, during our first visit to Notre Dame d'Orcival, a 13th century Romanesque basilica in the tiny village of Orcival, about forty minutes from where we used to live.
Here's a better photo of the church. Photo by Francis Debaisieux The basilica is indeed a world treasure, but the thing that struck me most about it is what hangs on an outer wall. See it in the inset there?
Here, let me blow it up for you. Photo by Francis Debaisieux Those are leg irons. Leg irons, just like the ones binding Everett and Pete and Delmar. I saw the photo of us standing in the snow beneath the leg irons and remembered that cold day as my brain started singing I am a man of constant sorrow I've seen trouble all my day. I bid farewell to old Kentucky The place where I was born and raised.
Our Michelin Green Guide said that the chains had been hung "in thanksgiving for released prisoners." Ben wanted to know just who was released and if it was really safe to set prisoners free, and Sarah said that maybe they weren't supposed to be in jail anyway, especially if they were the kind of prisoners who care about thanking God.
But the chains got all of us thinking and talking about what it means for God to set us free. And yesterday, as I looked at that picture and sung along with Everett, I remembered this verse: 7 He upholds the cause of the oppressed and gives food to the hungry. The LORD sets prisoners free,
8 the LORD gives sight to the blind, the LORD lifts up those who are bowed down, the LORD loves the righteous.
9 The LORD watches over the alien and sustains the fatherless and the widow, but he frustrates the ways of the wicked.
Psalm 146:7-9, New International Version
It's a lovely scripture, but at first thought, I wasn't sure that it had anything to do with me. I'm not really oppressed (except by my laundry pile, ha ha.) I'm not hungry or in prison, blind or made to bow down. I'm not an alien anymore, nor am I fatherless or a widow.
But maybe it speaks to me too. I might not be guilty of doing things that land me in prison, but I know I'm imprisoned in other ways. Even though I try not to, I do things and think things that keep me from living the whole, healthy life God wants for me.
I envy other people. What they own that I don't. Their talents. What looks like the ease of their lives. I worry too much, and sometimes I let fear keep me from doing things that would please God. Fear of what other people might think. Fear of failing.
I could go on, but you get the point. I'm just thankful that even though God knows all about my sorry failings, He refuses to shut the door on me. God lets me in anyway, unbinding me daily from the chains that hold me back, letting me try to do better, again and again.
I can see why Ben was worried. Is it really smart of God to operate this way? To set the prisoners free, with just their word and a piddly human effort to do better? But that's how God operates. That's how grace operates. No wonder they call it amazing!
I'd love to hear your thoughts. Have you seen the movie? What imprisons you?
Maybe I shouldn't admit this, but of all the characters in literature, Milne's Eeyore is on my Top Ten list of favorites. Maybe it's because I know some Eeyores in real life or maybe it's because I have a small bit of Eeyore in me. Or maybe it's because of amazing lines like these:
"'It's snowing still,' said Eeyore gloomily. 'So it is.' 'And freezing.' 'Is it?' 'Yes,' said Eeyore. 'However,' he said, brightening up a little, 'We haven't had an earthquake lately.'"
"It's bad enough being miserable, but it is even worse when everyone else claims to be miserable, too."
Don't you just want to pat his head, give him a side hug, and say, "Oh Eeyore. How I love you"?
Eeyore always makes me laugh, but I also appreciate him for his nuggets of truth. Within his sad stale chocolate box of poor me's and life is useless that's all there is to it, there are yummy pieces of wisdom. Tasty bits that leave me chewing and thinking. For instance...
"We can't all, and some of us don't. That's all there is to it."
and "A little Consideration, a little Thought for Others, makes all the difference. Or so they say."
and "When trying to rescue friends from a tree, make sure the plan doesn't involve having everybody stand on your back." Hahahahahahaha. Okay, so that one is just funny.
A week or so ago, I reread the book Ecclesiastes, and I was shocked to find that Eeyore has a long lost Biblical brother! Seriously, you should read it again. It's short (in my Bible it's only ten pages long,) and the Eeyorisms and nuggets of truth will stun you and make you laugh out loud and yearn to tousle the Philosopher's hair, give him a sideways hug, and say, "How I love you, you tired old wise man, you."
Check out lines like this: "Life is useless, all useless. You spend your life working, laboring, and what do you have to show for it?...What has happened before will happen again..There is nothing new in the whole world. "Look," they say, "here is something new" but no, it has all happened before, long before we were born."
"Never ask "Oh, why were things so much better in the old days?" It is not an intelligent question."
"If you dig a pit, you fall in it; if you break through a way, a snake bites you. ...If your ax is dull and you don't sharpen it, you have to work harder to use it. It is smarter to plan ahead."
"So remember your Creator while you are still young, before those dismal days and years come when you will say, "I don't enjoy life. That is when the light of the sun, the moon, and the stars will grow dim for you, and the rain clouds will never pass away. ...Your teeth will be too few to chew your food and your eyes too dim to see clearly... You will hardly be able to drag yourself along, and all desire will be gone." I can hardly wait!
But just as with Eeyore, there are stunning truths within the dreariness.
The fastest runner doesn’t always win the race, and the strongest warrior doesn’t always win the battle. The wise sometimes go hungry, and the skillful are not necessarily wealthy. And those who are educated don’t always lead successful lives. It is all decided by chance, by being in the right place at the right time.
For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die...
And another favorite set of verses: "Two are better off than one, because together they can work more effectively. If one of them falls down, the other can help him up..."
Yep, a life lived outside of faith, focused only on ourselves maybe ultimately useless, but let God enter the picture and everything changes. Maybe the Philosopher of Ecclesiastes is even preparing us for the coming of Christ, the One who "came that we might have life abundantly."
So tell me, what do you think of the Philosopher Eeyore and the Philosopher of Ecclesiastes?
Before you skedaddle, I'll leave you with this benediction:
"Go ahead--eat your food and be happy; drink your wine and be cheerful. It's all right with God. Always look happy and cheerful. Enjoy life with the woman you love, as long as you live the useless life that God has given you in this world. Enjoy every useless day of it, because that is all you will get for all your trouble. Work hard at whatever you do, because there will be no action, no thought, no knowledge, no wisdom in the world of the dead--and that is where you are going." Ecclesiastes 9:7-10 Oh, come here, Philosopher, and let me tousle your hair, you sweet thing.
Flickr photo by mollydotcreative commons Hey friends. I'm writing you from my daddy's office in my parents' house, which is a little freaky because as I type, fifth grade Becky (complete with stop sign glasses and crocheted bicentennial vest) is staring at me. I shall not be wigged out. I shall not be deterred. So where were we... Sam and I are taking a mother son get-away for the weekend to celebrate the end of the school year and to soak up the kind of heavy duty loving that only grandparents can give!
We had a great drive home to Raleigh yesterday. Sam set up his IPod to play all sorts of old people (Elton John, Billy Joel, and Michael Jackson) plus a young favorite of both of ours, Ingrid Michaelson. You probably know Ingrid. She's a fabulous entertainer (watch this after you finish reading this post) and I'm still spanking my own hiney because she came this spring to The Handlebar, our local place for live music, and I couldn't get my act together to simply buy the tickets and show up! I tell you, I drive myself crazy sometimes.
So anyway, you may know the song she's most famous for. It's this one.
Sam and I sang it straight through twice in the car. LOUDLY. (Actually I sang loudly and he joined in every now and then, when nobody was in the lane beside us.) After it was over, Sam asked if we could pretty please listen to a different song. "Just one more time. Okay?" I begged, and he rolled his eyes and laughed. Then he patted me on the head and pushed play.
I couldn't help it. I just love those lyrics:
If you are chilly, here take my sweater. Your head is aching, I'll make it better. Cause I love the way you call me baby. And you take me the way I am.
Isn't that the best kind of love, a love that takes us the way we are, with all our quirks and weirdness? Ingrid loves whoever it is back, because really, how could she not?
Whenever I hear a song that touches me or read a novel that stuns me with its beauty and truth, I know I need to take a closer look. I have this idea that when a story or a song or a movie pulls on my heartstrings, that means that it's resonating with something ancient and holy within me. It's almost like our souls are embedded homing devices, set up to detect the qualities of God's nature and passion in our world (His truth and beauty, pain and sacrifice,) and draw us back to their ultimate source: a God who loves us relentlessly.
Does this make sense to you, or do you think I've been staring into the sun too long?
So when she sings
I'd buy you Rogaine when you start losing all your hair Sew on patches to all you tear
I hear it and I sometimes think of a child wanting to return the favor to a God who patches us up, time and time again. You know what I mean. The Bible (and probably your life too) is full of those stories. I think of God calling out Adam and an Eve, right after they'd disobeyed Him with the fruit and were hiding in the bushes, wondering what to do next. God had said that if they ate of that tree, they'd die the same day. But would they indeed have to die? No, this God couldn't bring Himself to follow through, killing off all humankind. Instead God loved them, even in their shame. And not only that, but before God ushered them out of the garden, He sewed them clothes to wear, to comfort those frightened, naked jaybirds.
He sewed on patches, even though they tore the whole thing up. If that's not superhuman love, (or superior-to-human love :) I'd like to know what is!
Have a terrific weekend, friends! I hope it's full of loud, happy singing. But before you go, I'd love to hear what has moved you lately. And do you think my theory holds? Does the art that touches your heart have anything to do with God?
It's funny how attached I can get to the way things are. Is this true for you? I find myself even holding tight to silly, unimportant things like a blog header that an artist made for me two years ago, or where I put the spoons and forks. Would you believe that I moved my silverware drawer back in March, and my hands still reach for the handle on the right side of the oven instead of the left? It's true!
I suppose when we do something over and over again the same way, we program the fleshy computer part of ourselves. Of course, sometimes this is a good thing. I don't want to have to go on mapquest.com every time I need to drive Sam to school, but it sort of scares me when I pull up to the curb to let him out, and I don't even remember the drive. Does this happen to you? Maybe it's human nature. (Or maybe you're glad I don't live in your neighborhood!)
I know I do this on a deeper level as well. I have a certain vision of who I am, the way I behave with other people, the risks I take (or don't take,) and I tend to stay on my route, where it's normal and safe, where I know I won't fail. Where people won't notice and murmur to each other, "What's the deal with her?"
Sometimes it takes a kick in the pants/skirt/capris to realize how much we're missing when we go with what's always been.
Check out these verses that kicked my bahonka the other day...
"So here's what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don't become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You'll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you." Romans 12:1-2, The Message
I'd always read the part that says Don't become so well-adjusted to your culture as meaning the American culture, of which I certainly want to be wary. But now I'm thinking that God might also be saying the Becky Ramsey culture. The culture that I've created for myself. The one I sometimes confine myself to, really out of fear, if you get right down to it.
So I'm throwing everything up in the air, and I'm going to try to do this daily. I'm going to try to toss my Becky Ramsey Way of Living up in the sky, open my arms wide to catch what is meaningful, and let the rest of it fall. And when I find myself in new, uncomfortable places, with my hands reaching for a comfortable drawer and mapquest nowhere in sight, I'm going to remember the line that God seems to say to just about everybody who talks to Him: Fear not. I'm right here. And I just might hum a little Diana Ross, too.
I just had to live And I want to give I'm completely positive... I'm coming out...
So what about you? Do you ever find yourself in a self designed rut, like a comfy couch you want to stay in forever? Do you look for new life directions and throw yourself in, or are you more likely to test the water with a toe first? I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Do tears ever catch you by surprise? They kept sneaking up on me Wednesday. If I hadn't known better, I would've blamed it on my hair-mones, as my daughter used to say, but no, that wasn't it. It just happens sometimes. This particular time, I was picking up dog hair tumbleweeds in the den, while Sam was watching Ellen Degeneres interview the twelve year old youtube sensation Greyson Chance. Before I knew it, I was all afluffle and Sam was doing his nervous laugh that means WHAT DO I DO NOW MY MOM HAS LOST HER MARBLES.
I promise, you might have lost yours too. If you're out of the loop, let me just say that Greyson is a fresh faced, normal boy, gifted with a shockingly incredible voice. He was clearly delighted to chat about "Miss Gaga" and how he knew something big was happening to him because the people at Bahama Ice named a snow cone after him and tons of people go there. Then Ellen went and yanked every one of my heartstrings by showing clips of his principal hugging him and his music teacher bragging on him, and that was all it took. Messy tears. Red face. And this was the second tear ambush of the day!
Just five hours earlier, I was delivering food to a new client on my Meals on Wheels route when the tears surprised me. Mr. Blevens wore slacks and an ironed work shirt with a patch with his first name on it, and as I walked up his front steps, he looked as if he wasn't sure what to do with his hands. I introduced myself and as I gave him his meal, he looked at it and said, "God bless you, ma'am. Thank you. It sure is a good thing y'all do." "You're welcome, Mr. Blevens. We're happy to do it." "Uh huh," he said, trying to find a few more words. "It's awfully nice, but I tell you, it doesn't hardly feel right to accept it." "But Mr. Blevens," I said, searching for what to say, "I bet you've spent your whole life helping people. Now maybe you need to let others do something for you for a change." Instantly, Mr. Blevens' eyes watered up, and before he could catch it, a tear ran down his face. "We really..." he struggled, and his voice got all gravelly, and I felt my own tears come. "We appreciate this. And you." He patted my hand and I tried to walk back to my car like a normal person. I waved and went on with my route, feeling like we had shared something holy.
So what are those ambush tears about? The happy tears and the sad tears that show up when we least expect them? The knot rising up in your throat, threatening to embarrass you at work or with friends or total strangers aren't certain of your mental stability?
Maybe ambush tears are actually powerful messages that our souls say to God, prayers that burst out like sneezes, involuntarily, because our bodies can't hold them back anymore, or because the feelings are so big that our pitiful brains can't keep up. Perhaps the tears pray for us, saying, "How beautiful, thank you God, for letting me see this," or "This is grace," or "This grief is too much for me to bear by myself," or "I'm hurting, please help me." The tears speak our prayers to God before our feeble minds can even understand our own feelings.
But God understands them. God speaks that soul language, and more than that, God treasures every salty drop.
You have kept record of my days of wandering. You have stored my tears in your bottle and counted each of them. Psalm 56:8, Contemporary English Version
How wonder-full that even when we're running around picking up dog hair, just trying to get things done and handle life on our own, knowing God is in the background but not thinking too much about it, God lets our child souls speak up to Him, ambushing us with the prayers He knows we need to express.
You know, I think I'm going to try a little experiment. Want to try it with me? The next time I'm ambushed with happy or sad tears, I'm going to pay attention to those drops in the bottle. I'm going to back them up with a spoken prayer, and try to put words to what my inner soul is crying out for, whether it's thankfulness or grief.
So today I'm thanking God for giving us gifts that we don't even ask for or feel we deserve. For a beautiful voice and a chance to share it, dropped on the lap of a normal boy. For the chance to accept a meal for free, when you've worked hard all your life long. For a chance to be the one who brings the meal, when you had nothing to do with preparing it or paying for it. For a chance to witness the involuntary prayers of strangers and friends-to-be. For holy, salty, messy tear prayers that speak when my words can't.
So what about you? I'd love to hear about the last time you were surprised by tears. Did it carry a message, or was it just hairmones?
Today's Wonder of the World is Soul Train! So why is a forty something white woman like me blogging about a pop music dance show with an African American focus? Because I'm still in love with a documentary I watched a few weeks ago from VH1, "Soul Train: The Hippest Trip in America." And because I wasn't always forty something.
I used to be seven. Around the same time that I saw the documentary, I also found this photo of my second grade class. I don't know about you, but second grade was about the time I started noticing that people came in different colors. It may just be the age that kids start thinking about stuff like that, about their similarities and differences from other people, or maybe it was the measles shot. (A very short story first to explain, and then we'll get back to Soul Train, promise.)
If you were in first or second grade in 1972, you had to line up with the rest of your class in the cafeteria and get immunized for measles. This freaked me out. After Mrs. Elkins walked us back to our classroom, I threw up all over myself. Mrs. Elkins rushed me into the bathroom and told me to take off my shirt, that she'd find me something to wear for the rest of the day. The navy cardigan she brought me had some holes in it, but not in strategic places, so I put it on and went back to my desk. It was then I noticed that Linda, the little black girl whose desk was next to mine, looked different than she had a moment before. I was wearing Linda's sweater. Mrs. Elkins had asked, and she had lent it to me.
It sounds silly now, but I found this very interesting. Linda's skin was brown. I was wearing her clothes. Her sweater felt the same as my sweaters did. It smelled a little different. A nice smell, like her hair. At seven years old, African American hair fascinated me. The Wimberleys next door were African American. Mr. Wimberley had a pharmacy downtown and Mrs. Wimberley was on the school board. Peele was my friend but he was a boy, so I hadn't paid much attention to him. Though I did try to find reasons to accidentally touch his hair. Sometimes I'd just ask him and he'd roll his eyes and tell me to quit.
I was curious. African Americans were in my class at school and in my neighborhood. But not in my church. We were the same, but we were different. But we were the same.
In 1972, black Americans weren't on TV, except on the news. And on Soul Train. It came on after the Saturday cartoons and American Bandstand, and I'd watch a little bit of it, sometimes the whole thing. The dancing was amazing. And I loved Don Cornelius' smooth voice. The live music was the best--The Jackson Five, Aretha Franklin, James Brown, Marvin Gaye. But my favorite part was the Soul Train Line, in which couples get to dance by themselves as everyone else enjoys the music from the sidelines. Nobody danced like that on American Bandstand. So cool. And a few of those dancers became famous on their own. Remember What's Happening? It's Rerun!
So did you watch Soul Train? If you did, I bet you'd really love the documentary. Check out VH1's website for future broadcasts. You can find more about the documentary here.
Do you remember your early impressions and feelings about race? I'd love to hear your thoughts! Wishing you love, peace, and soul! Love, Becky PS. Check out this line dance. If you watch carefully, you'll see Rerun in slow mo! PS. 2. In case you're wondering, that's Linda and me in the class photo, middle row, first two on the left.
These gorgeous ladies from my church circle do. And no, that's not Santa there on the couch, far right. That's me, with the combination of incredibly poor posture and the pinkish sweater that gives me either a nine month old fetus or Santa's jelly belly, which I really don't have. (Not much of one, that is.) I would have used a different photo, but the other one made me look like Santa had replaced the eggnog with straight rum, no ice.
So back to the caroling. I had the best time at our Christmas party last week because guess what we did. No, I'm not talking about the Christmas trees and stars we tore out of paper with our eyes closed. We stood around the piano and sang Christmas carols! Yes we did! Silly ones, holy ones, ones we knew the words to and others we didn't. (Hint: for ones you don't know, just mouth the word watermelon over and over again and no one will know the difference.) Singing carols at the piano was SO FUN! I plan to force my family to do it! You heard right, kids! It's going to be great! Sorry for all the exclamation points, but they're absolutely necessary.
What about you? Do you do this, or does the cheese factor of such a Norman Rockwell moment frighten you a bit? I say, DIVE INTO the cheesiness. Embrace it. You'll be surprised how it fills your heart with Christmas joy.
Before you go, a couple questions. Which carol would you insist on singing? One that drives you crazy? Favorite new one? Old one?
As for me, here's my list of notables: Silver Bells--from the Christmas album my family used to play Little Donkey--taught to me by a British friend during our French life Il est né le Divin Enfant--also from our French life. It's so lovely. Silent Night--no explanation necessary. It's not Christmas without it, sung by candlelight. But in my opinion, you can leave We Three Kings off the list. I love the melody, but my brain won't stop replacing the words with "tried to smoke a rubber cigar. It was loaded and exploded..."
Now it's your turn. Please share! And while you're at it, won't you learn the words to the carol below? It's one of my favorites and nobody knows it. Love, Becky
In the craziness of the Christmas season, I keep trying to call forth the peace and stillness that the shepherds might have shared on the silent grazing fields. But then I remember that the angels came and kind of blew that away with heavenly Joy. Now, if I could just focus on the joy part, and not so much on the nutty run-around-like-a-chicken-with-my-head-cut-off part.
So in the spirit of Christmas JOY, enjoy dancing with Santa's helpers. Maybe when they're done with their fun, they can attack our To Do lists! Have a fabulous Wednesday, y'all! Love, Becky
Can you name this city? I can do it in six notes. I mean letters. (Remember that show?) City hint#1: a most delicious omelet. City hint #2: the mountains. Yes, it's Denver, the first city I fell in love with as a grown up. I'm thinking about Denver today because my friend May recently did a fabulous postconfessing she was torn between two lovers: San Francisco and New York. It made me think about all the towns I've loved before and the lessons each one taught me. Or should have.
And it made me curious about you. I'd love to know where you've lived and loved. Feel like sharing?
I'll go first. I'll try not to be long winded. Thanks to the Air Force, it's not a short list.
1. Denver, as shown above. Lesson I should have learned? Don't be so in love with the mountains and Todd Ramsey that you neglect to ask how much the teaching job pays before you sign the contract. (Still it was fun. Who needs money when you have love?)
That's not my photo, but it's exactly what I remember. Lessons learned? If you live near a corn flake factory, you constantly thirst for milk. And Omaha's suburb Papillion might be spelled like the French word for butterfly, but if you pronounce it that way, Nebraskans will laugh at you.
Beautiful, huh? Our apartment complex wasn't in this part. We lived in a neighborhood which my sweet mother in law once called The Projects. Lesson: When men are always huddling together, trading things in the parking lot of your apartment complex, you ought to move.
Coming home can be beautiful, even while puking into the car's air conditioning vents on the way to your first day of work. Especially if it's because of morning sickness. (But do sell the car. It will never be the same.)
6. Greenville/Greer, SC There are cool people in every town, just waiting for new friends. Small towns are great for kids.
7. Clermont Ferrand, France Life is to be enjoyed. Eat! Drink! Write!
So now it's your turn! Are you king of the road, or loyal to one knock out town? I'd love to hear all about it. Have a great weekend, y'all! Love, Becky
I'm thinking about France today, probably because the sky is a brilliant blue and the weather is finally chilly, the way fall is supposed to be, and Carla Bruni is singing L'Amoureuse in my ear. Where oh where is my chocolate croissant? And the waiter with my café au lait? Shoot. I'll just have to imagine. Tant pis.
I guess I'll just have to stare at the Air France poster hanging on my office wall and pretend. That's it above. I bought it from the guy who sells old books out of the back of his van at the Sunday flea market in Clermont Ferrand, and it's one of my favorite souvenirs of our French life. I love how the New York sky scraper stands shoulder to shoulder with the Eiffel Tower, and that they're flying their flags like twins.
Are you a fan of vintage travel posters too? This one's nice. I love the style. The bright colors. Even the lettering.
Hey, that's Chamonix, the home of one of our very first road trips in France! Where we learned that French inns serve breakfast on china, no matter if you have little Americans used to plastic and a 9 month old baby who likes to grab things. Once we learned to negotiate breakfast, we had a marvelous time! Back to travel posters...
Hi friends. Welcome back to Music Week here at Wonders Never Cease! For this last post of the week, I had a hard time deciding who to feature.Ingrid Michaelson or Lisa Hannigan? Jack Johnsonor my dear friend Kyle Matthews? Or maybe Owl City, a band I discovered a while back because one of the members is the daughter of some friends of mine--and now they're making it big! (Yey Laura!)
But in the end, my heart belongs to Peter. The quote on his websitedescribes him best:
Peter Mayer writes songs for a small planet—songs about interconnectedness and the human journey; about the beauty and the mystery of the world. Whimsical, humorous, and profound, his music breaks the boundaries of "folk", and transcends to a realm beyond the everyday love song, to a place of wonder at the very fact of life itself.
Oh Peter, how I love you and my most favorite song in the whole wide world, "Holy Now," which you wrote. I blogged about the song way back in April 2008, so maybe you won't think I'm repeating myself if I gush on about it again. I can't help it, people, because I'm CRAZY about that song. It's on this CD, which I also love. Ready? Here's "Holy Now."
I love it even more now that I've heard it in person. Yep, Peter lives in Minnesota and doesn't get to this side of the country very often, so when we heard he was coming to Asheville, North Carolina, for a concert last weekend, of course we had to go! The hour and a half drive was a pleasure. The leaves were at their peak, as you can see in this blurry photo.
Hey! That scene sort of matches his new CD. See?
It's exciting to get to meet people who inspire me, so I'm still sort of starstruck. And living off this hug! It's me and Peter Mayer! The singer/songwriter of my most favorite song! I'll stop gushing now. I hope you have the spookiest of Halloweens. Hey, here's the perfect Peter Mayer song to get you started! The singing starts around the 50 second mark.
It's Music Week here at Wonders Never Cease, so come have a seat on the sofa with this lovely couple. Have you met? No? Allow me to introduce you to Jack Conte and Nataly Dawn, the ultra cool musicians of Pomplamoose. My friend Madison introduced me to them through a link on Facebook. I nearly missed clicking on the video, but the band's name caught my eye. Pomplamoose? The word looks like pamplemousse, the French word for grapefruit, but it's spelled so that when you say it, you pronounce it the French way. Sort of. A band named Grapefruit? I must investigate. So I clicked. See what you think.
Isn't that crazy? I totally get the name. Grapefruit. Sweet but sour. Whimsical and sincere. (Aren't all grapefruits whimsical and sincere?) There's so much to love here. Nataly's voice and her beautiful harmonies (with herself.) The wide spectrum of instruments they play. The homemade videos showing their recording process. Plus, they're both so interesting to watch!
Hooked by the first video, I started searching for more. I love Hail Mary...
And their version of Nature Boy.
You know what else? They sing in French! Of course they do. They're called Pomplamoose, after all. They sing one of my favorites, Edith Piaf's La vie en rose. While playing a toy piano and doing hand clapping games. See?
If you like what you see, hop over to their myspace site and find out more. I wish for you la vie en rose today, mon ami! Have a wonderful Wednesday! Love, Becky
Hey y'all! Snapping fingers at the ready? It's Music Week here at Wonders Never Cease! I thought I'd post about new music that makes me happy, okey doke? I hope you'll tell me about your latest faves too. I LOVE discovering something new to listen to.
Have you met Nellie McKay? Her last name rhymes with pie, which is perfect given the name of her latest album. (See above.) I just found Nellie earlier this month when NPR did a feature on that album, but she's been around for a while. Her debut album, Get Away From Me, (a play on Norah Jones' Come Away with Me) came out in 2003, and I can't stop singing her songs. Like this one.
Isn't that delightful? She's clearly having a blast with that song. I've been singing it all weekend, and it's a good thing for Tanner the Slobber Dog that I have, given his latest shenanigans. Want to see? I noticed something strange in the backyard and headed out the door. As you can see, he was in a hurry to show off his handiwork. What's that? Sam's favorite bear and...another $3 container of red pepper hummus. Naughty dog.
Grr. I better put on some Nellie McKay and get happy again. Have a few minutes? Poke around on YouTube a bit. You might fall in love with her too.
