On Six and Legacy

I remember six.

What it was to go down to my grandfather’s basement and sing at the top of my lungs while he played guitar.

I remember chords and burning and the life and longing that only comes with a great song.

I remember faces beaming and proud looks screaming “legacy”. I remember the look in his eye…the song in his fingers….the bliss of a guitar fully freed.

I remember.

Tonight my five year old wrote a song. I haven’t taught him the language of music yet. I haven’t showed him. Yet he brings me this.

I’m transported back in time to notes played freely and voices ringing loudly…to no inhibitions. Just me and my voice and the voice of one who believed in me.

And I wonder…can legacy exist when no one is looking?

But I am looking. I remember. So tonight I stare at the random notes written on unseen bar.

I flail at the night and remember who I am. And in that, I find my children and see the light.

It travels freely through the darkness, unhindered.

Because legacy is greater than us. It sweeps through the fragments of the soul and finds a home in the unhindered.

So tonight I write, I dream, I awake in the morning in memory and hope. Because the future is brighter and God is working.

I am a puzzle piece groping for truth. I hold life and I, only, know how to let it out with word and song so I keep going.

Light and life are worth the effort.

Ripples

I wonder what ripples my life will leave after my drop in time has passed. Will they grow to be a wave strong and forceful, or will they fade slowly into the others unnoticed? Such is the nature of life, a drop in the bucket of eternity and it’s gone in an instant.

You welcome a new one into the world, crying tears of wonder and amazement and then you turn around and they’re off and running. You’re suddenly planning a wedding and watching them fly away.

You write a song and sing it timidly only to hear that another is singing it wildly, holding onto it as if it held their hope and you are humbled. You wonder when your words cross paper and find the eyes of a reader if they will mean anything. You wonder if you’ve done enough. You wonder if you can do more. You wonder if you’ve been wasteful.

Then you realize that your wondering is a gift, an opportunity to live tomorrow free. Wondering what was should propel you to create tomorrow. Craft each moment with deliberate hands. Decide to embrace the seconds, the good and hard and sorrowful. Decide to live your “now” with everything you’ve got. Decide to leave a legacy. Decide to live with purpose. Then at the end of the journey you can look back and see the tide that swelled with one touch of the finger of God into the river of life you allowed to flow through you. As you cross the shore, you can smile as you listen to the crash of the waves that began miles away with a ripple.

 

Time

Worn

Time, that slippery substance

Catching and tripping through our fingers while we brace and hope for more

Time, that present wonder

Existing here, already gone

That blip between eternity future and eternity  past

Over so quickly while we sleep

In waking we ask ourselves if we’ve missed the moment we’ve been waiting for

We watch as hair grows gray, as creases deepen from smiles and worries long forgotten

We watch while young ones grow taller

Love blooms in babies who yesterday sat wobbly on our knees

Now eyes glimmering with the promise of tomorrow

We smile at the milestones

Mourn as the hour of passing comes swift while we ponder legacies and what the future will be like without them with us

We walk on steady or limping

Mainly because there’s no way to stop moving,

No way to capture the moment still

except memory

We know the path will lead on into the fray

Through the tempest

Through the cold and shadow and light of joy

We know the clock will tick tomorrow and we hope for wisdom

Time, illusive tyrant

Fleeting friend

Giver of hope

Great mystery

Can you stop just long enough for me to take it all in?

With that, here wakes another morning

Sing me a Song

I’ve been singing and playing music in church most of my life. I wrote my first song when I was three and my mother insisted that I sing it for everyone. I clearly remember refusing to do so unless she held my hand…she did. It was my solo debut. To answer the most commonly asked questions, yes, I still remember the song. No, I won’t sing it for you, but here are the lyrics (bracing for the embarrassment…remember I was only three)

Jesus, I love you

Jesus, I want you to be my friend

Jesus I’ve heard about you

How you hold the future in your hands

Jesus, I love you

Will you live inside my heart forever more?

I’m guessing it was adorable! That was all it took for me to decide I was meant to sing and sing I did…constantly.

We lived in Houston, TX for a while when I was four in a pretty rough apartment complex. I remember three things about Houston: my boyfriend whose name was Jesus (he thought all of our songs were about him), the SWAT team coming through frequently to collect whatever maniac was wielding a firearm that day, and getting up at 6 AM every morning, standing on the balcony and loudly singing to the world “See the bright light shine, it’s just about home time. I can see my Father standing at the door”. For the record, the neighbors didn’t think I was quite as adorable as everyone else did.

I was the “song leader” for my Daddy’s church when I was six primarily because we didn’t have microphones and I was the only one who could sing loud enough to be heard above everything else. I have always loved to write music. I am working on two new songs right now. We just played a new original of mine in church last Sunday. I’m not trying to toot my own horn here, just laying a little groundwork to let you know that I am very passionate about worship and music. It’s a part of me.

What I’ve realized, however, is that the thrill of operating in my calling is absolutely nothing compared with watching my daughters operate in theirs. I mean NOTHING! They are now teenagers (13 & 16) and play in the youth band at church and are on the worship team with us in ‘big’ church. Sunday, as we played the newest song I’d finished writing and my daughter’s bass guitar was ‘rockin’ it’, I was caught up in the moment. It’s a great thing to operate in your calling. It feels amazing to let God take over and use the gifts He’s given you to minister to others. It feels even more amazing to see your children or others that you’ve poured into, use their giftings to further the kingdom of God.

Proud Mama

My pastor has told me many times that I should always work myself out of a job. The best thing we can do as believers is to find someone to come alongside us that we can pour into, mentor, minister to, teach and encourage. After all, the things that will matter in the end are the legacies we leave behind. What footprint did we leave on this earth? Did we use our time to further our own agendas or did we use our time to leave a lasting impact on another person?

Parenting gives us a unique opportunity to impact another human being. Sometimes the impact our parents make on us is positive, sometimes…not so much. As I think back on my life, some of the most profound influences and inspirations in my life were people other than my parents. There were the sisters in Christ who arranged “gigs” for me throughout my teenage years. There was the pastor/worship leader who would push me to reach higher, sing louder, let go and go for it. There was the dear sister who told me the phrase I still think of every time I step out to lead worship or write something a little extra personal; “Don’t hold back”! My grandfather inspired me to play guitar. My best friend has spent countless hours with me writing and playing music, polishing lyrics and trying to discover new chord progressions. My parents definitely inspired me, but these people spurred me on into my calling.

As I think of the impact I make in the lives of others, I’m forced to evaluate how important it is to me to take the time to make a difference in someone else’s life. It is taxing sometimes to spend hours on the phone with a friend whose heart is breaking. It is hard to put work and household duties on the back burner to go have coffee with someone who wants to get to know you better. It takes an effort to teach a guitar or vocal lesson or read over lyrics or poetry written by someone you barely know and give honest feedback that will encourage them to keep going. But these are the things that matter. The encouraging words spoken today may grow into faith in the soil of another heart. The time spent just being there for someone may make all the difference. The prayers shared together may bring just enough strength in a moment of weakness. The honest critique may birth wisdom. The lesson may inspire greatness.

We may never fully know the impact we make, but even if we aren’t afforded the opportunity to eat the fruit that springs forth from small seeds we’ve sown, we are rewarded for our faithfulness to the author of life who inspired life within us. That alone, is worth more than anything.