Hearts Song

Hearts Song by Gary A. Lippincott

What can you see, on the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea, a pale moon rises.
The ships have come, to carry you home.

~ Into the West, Annie Lennox

Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where they lead.

~ Louisa May Alcott

All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance.

~ Hebrews 11:13

Hindi

As I put my first Bollywood movie in the DVD player, I had no idea.  It was just a Netflix recommendation. "Since you liked ___ and ___ we think you'd also enjoy Veer-Zaara."  Say what?  What's a Veer-Zaara?  But I figured, what the heck?  Sure.  I'll give it a try. 

So there I was, blissfully ignorant. Little did I know that I was about to fall in love....With the colors.  With the storytelling.  With the spontaneous musical sequences.  (With the obvious lip syncing.)  With the melodrama.  With the heartache.  With the dancing.  With the joy.  With everything.

I didn't understand a word.  But that didn't matter.  I was hooked. 

Thank goodness for Netflix.  I started watching as many Bollywood movies as I could find.  And before I knew it, I started recognizing things:  actors, plots (one movie I found was a reinterpretation of "A Walk in the Clouds"), cultural norms, a word here and there.  Once, I recognized a Bollywood actress in an American movie -- not because of her name or her look, but because of the way she acted.  It was the things she did and didn't do that gave her away. And one day, I actually recognized a word I know from my brief study of Arabic.  It was a pretty funny moment.  Who knew that Arabic and Hindi would have some shared words?  I was so proud that I knew the word before the subtitle appeared! 

My obsession has grown so much that I've actually decided to learn Hindi.  If for no other reason than to watch these films without having to rely on the subtitles.

And then it struck me how similar that was to my walk of faith. 

I want my life to be for other people what that first movie was for me.  Starting with common ground, but giving them a glimpse into another type of story.  A completely counter-cultural story.  One where my origins are given away by what I do and don't do.  One filled with color and music and joy.  Where they don't have to know the language to understand what's going on, but where there's the option of subtitles so they don't even have to worry about it.  Maybe some of the words are familiar (maybe none of them are), but the more they hang around the more they understand.  And before they know it, they want to learn the language too.

Jacabo

"O to grace how great a debtor daily I'm constrained to be."

While playing this song in church last Sunday, my imagination decided to carry me to the land of Monte Cristo and to focus for a moment on the unforgettable Jacabo.  I saw him laying there on the sand after losing a fight to a nameless stranger... 

When Edmond finally breaks out of jail, he washes ashore and immediately encounters a man in trouble.  Jacabo made a bad choice, and he was going to have to pay with his life.  He's given a chance to to get out of his fate by fighting Edmond.  And he probably thought it was going to be a walk in the park.  After all, he's the best knife fighter Luigi has ever seen and Edmond is little more than jailbait.  But he's easily bested.  And Jababo's out of luck.  But then something happens he could never have seen coming.  Edmond offers Luigi a different solution and Jacabo's life is spared.  Cue one of my favorite movie quotes: "I swear on my dead relatives - and even on the ones who are not feeling too good - I am your man forever!"  What else could he do?

Jacabo is indebted to Edmond's grace and their journey begins.  That doesn't mean they're always on the same page.  Cue quote number two: "Why not just kill them? I'll do it! I'll run up to Paris - bam, bam, bam, bam. I'm back before week's end. We spend the treasure. How is this a bad plan?"  I suppose that isn't surprising since when they met Jacabo knew absolutely nothing about Edmond (not even his true name).  The treasure wasn't the point. (There's a thought that could send me on a ramble!) He just knew that one moment he was looking at death, and the next moment his hope and future were restored. 
I'm sure at times that grace felt like as much like fetter as much as it felt like a gift.  But whether he understood or not.  Whether he agreed or not.  Jacabo was true to his word.  He was Edmond's man forever. 

There are days when I'm sure I share a thing or two with Jacabo.  Endebted to a stranger (though I'm getting to know him more every day).  Not always understanding the plan (or the point for that matter).  Wearing different hats and having to wait for the whole picture to come together.  But grateful every day for grace.

The moral of the story:  You never know what the violinist is thinking on a Sunday morning.  *wink*  Thank goodness I can still play violin while my mind wanders on these God moments!

Rearview Mirror

I was minding my own business on Sunday morning.  Greeting my parents.  Grabbing a bit of breakfast.  When out of nowhere the space in front of me was occupied.  Standing there was a very smiley woman.  Just behind her was another.  The first looking very pleased and a bit mischievous.  The second looking happy and hopeful.  The first is a normal part of my landscape.  And there was....something....familiar...about the second.
The bits of information my brain needed clinked together and recognition came.  And in the blink of an eye I turned into a giggly squealy mess as I threw my arms around my beloved friend and greeted her with a massive hug.  Being in her presence was just so unexpected and ridiculously joyful. 

It was quite the three-second span if I do say so myself.  I can only imagine all the expressions that must have cycled through my face. 

That's been happening a lot lately.  Spontaneous reunions with beloved people from my past.  I'll be the first to admit that my exisitence is filled with quite the cast of characters.  But I've also gotten used to letting people go.  Realizing that our paths were only meant to cross for a few precious strides.

But time is a funny thing.  Instead of those nostaligic moments staying...well...far in the past.  They've been reaching out to smack me on the head.  (That sounds unpleasant...but it's not.)  All the distance and space just falls to the side, as if it never existed at all.

The best part is, all the things that made that person special come swarming back to the surface of my memory and edify me all over again: the lessons I learned, the example they lived, the adventures we shared, the valleys we survived, the mountains we conquered.  More often than not, I needed the reminder.  Coincidence?  Not a chance.

"Caution:  Objects in mirror are closer than they appear."

My Prayer for Today

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy;

Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

~ St. Francis of Assisi

Thoughts on Tenacity

Whether it's the perverbial bicycle kick that keeps the other team from scoring, or the rebound run that gives you the chance to shake the twine at the other end of the field... never give up.

I've played a lot of soccer in my life.  In highschool I was a defender who sometimes adventured as a left wing.  Beyond I played in the crazy world of indoor soccer in which the roles of defender/midfielder/offender are blurred beyond all belief.  I know that pit-in-the-stomach feeling when you get beat on a run by a striker, or when you see your goalie having a rough moment.  And in a split second, you have a decision.  Let it go and concede, or run. 

It's a moment in the "Write the Future" commercial, but I've also seen it happen in the 2010 tournament.  A player zoned in on the goal and a goalie who's out of the picture for one reason or another.  The striker takes the shot.  And... a moment from his worst nightmares.  His shot is blocked by an amazing bicycle kick thrown by a relentless defender.  It's the kind of moment that's made for TV.  But it only happens because there's just that one guy who refuses to give up.

At the other end of the field, I know the feeling of tentative hope.  You know the star player has things in hand as he rushes to the goal.  But as a supporting wing you just keep running at that back post, because you never know.  At the last moment, there could be a defender in the way, or a shot that goes off the crossbar or off another player. If you're there, you can make a magical moment happen.  As my high school coach used to say, it's the stuff dreams are made of.  But you'd never have the chance if you hadn't run the whole time. 

Tenacity.

Note to self:  I know sometimes you feel like that last defender...the tiny little hope that's staring down the eye of the tiger in the things coming at you full blast.  Don't be afraid.  Don't be discouraged.  Don't even worry about the pressure.  Just stay with it.  Don't give in.  Don't give up. 

And I know sometimes you feel like you've made that supporting run a thousand times only to celebrate with the other guy.  But run.  Keep your eye open for those opportunities.  You want to be there when the ball comes your way.  When it does, don't hesitate!  Take the shot!  It will be a moment a long time coming.  Until it does.  Keep making that run.  (And remember to celebrate no matter who took that last shot.)

Hula Hoops

Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words.  My thirty-something birthday had dawned bright and busy.  Tucked into a pile of bills I found a card.  The message inside wished me a "Hoopy Birthday," and that made me smile, but the picture on the front was what really grabbed my attention.  Taken back in the early 1950s, the photos showed a young woman in Greta Garbo shorts with eight or nine Hula-Hoops swinging madly around her waist.  'How does she do that?' I wanted to know. ...I looked once more at the girl on the front.  There were so many hoops, but she appeared calm.  Her upper body seemed to be perfectly still, her arms outstretched slightly, as the hoops raced around her waist in synchronized chaos.  Her face captured me.  Looking straight into the camera, she smiled peacefully as though she hadn't a care in the world.  Then it dawned on me -- I saw her secret.  'She found a rhythm,' I whispered to myself.  'She established her center, then let everything move around that.'

Condensed from Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World by Joanna Weaver, pp 99-100

Life is filled with Hula-Hoops.  And while I wanted to be encouraged by Joanna's story, it made me a little discouraged instead.  Here is a woman writing about finding time to balance work, marriage, parenting, being a pastor's wife, and probably five other things I'm forgetting (and I'm too lazy to open the book back up and check).

Right now, I feel like I can barely handle my one hoop.  I don't have to worry about anyone else but me.  And yes, I have my roles...but it's just me.  How in the world do I expect to handle more than that?

For example:  It's partially my fault, but I haven't worked out regularly for a while.  I miss it.  My body misses it.  But I feel like every time I start to get my rhythm back, my hips just lose it and the hula hoop falls back down to the floor.  I may try to frantically save it, or stop the embarrassing rattle of a fallen hoop by spreading my legs out as far as they go.  But it's no use.  It's lost. 

And it's just one hoop!  Yeesh.

I'm sure I'm not the only one.

I think what the picture doesn't show is the journey to nine hoops.