Kids

No ordinary night

~ Bri Sperry-Renfrew ~ 6 Comments

Between the covers

Tom Petty lies beside me

Rolling Stone issue

It was a wretchedly extraordinary night. I wonder if I wounded Quotidian when I said I couldn’t see her in her name. Did she slink off like an animal? Did Extraordinary smell blood? She seems to be circling.

In the early morning moment when I was jolted awake by my screeching security alarm, it was no ordinary thing. Even in my son’s voice, which I have known from newborn cry to maturing man. His absent-minded distraction is not unusual these day – a girl is in the picture – but that sacred ray escaped my notice under the circumstances. The screeching was picking up speed, even as my fingers froze.

Then the phone. The calm voice wanted my Password. I’ve never used this password. My brain is packed with passwords.

Before long an urgent rapping on my front door brought me face-to-face with a badge on a blue uniform. Extraordinary is unabashedly mocking me.

 But then Quotidian appeared. At my feet. A tender tan-ish blade-shaped leaf unswept from my porch. She is a fragile and dusty wind-blown traveler. Her ancient heirs are innumerable, but the maiden voyage which landed her beneath my distraught gaze, ended with no fanfare.  She lay there. I spied her.

When the badge was gone, I swept her up with the friends who followed her, and with that simple rite, I obtained my bearings. My faith was restored. We are friends again.

Grinding out a prayer

~ Bri Sperry-Renfrew ~ 7 Comments

An author whose blog I enjoy, recently asked readers to identify their 2011 “theme songs.”  Thanks to my friend, Jeanny, I knew exactly what I would choose.  After church last Sunday, Jeanny, who sings with the lilting, pulsating voice of an angel, suggested that I listen to Van Morrison’s version of  Be Thou My Vision.  Be Thou My Vision has long been a favorite hymn of mine, but it took hearing Morrison grind out the ancient Irish poem, to adopt it as my theme for 2011.  This is not Morrison’s  young and cheery Brown- Eyed Girl voice.  It is a voice weathered and rough-hewn like the stone fences that cascade down the green hills in the meadows of his native Ireland.  It is a chiseled plea.

“Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart; naught be all else to me save that thou art – thou my best thought by day or by night, waking or sleeping, thy presence my light.”

Jeanny didn’t say why she liked this version.  She is a quietly exuberant woman, undergoing the Scupltor’s  chisel herself, as she and her husband struggle to maintain their footing on the rocky path of raising an autistic child.  Though her burdens are immense she radiates the light of the One whose presence she seeks.

“Be thou my battleshield, sword for my fight; be thou my dignity, thou my delight, thou my soul’s shelter, thou my high tow’r; raise thou me heav’nward, O Pow’r of my pow’r.”

Jeanny’s son is in elementary school, but four of my kids have or will soon have “flown the coop” – a much better euphemism for the wing-growing process than the gentle, benign “leaving the nest.”  This period of pushing and pulling, pursed lips and prayer poses an assault on my ability to remain dignified.  Addictions, joblessness, car wrecks and college choices. Often I feel like the strains voiced by Morrison’s contemporary, Mick Jagger, “If I don’t get some shelter, oh yeah, I’m gonna fade away.”  The delights (scholarships, rehab successes, good grades and growth in faith)  though thoroughly penetrating when realized, aren’t fully satisfying apart from the power of my Power.

“High King of heaven, my victory won, may I reach heaven’s joys, O bright heav’n’s Sun!  Heart of my own heart, whatever befall, still be my vision, O Ruler of all.”

I think I’m going to stick with this chiseled plea for 2012, too.

Recordings to Hear Before You Die

~ Bri Sperry-Renfrew ~ 6 Comments

I noticed a fantastic phenomenon as my children were exchanging gifts this Christmas: much of it centered around music – CD’s, downloads, band T-shirts, concert tickets, etc.  Though they range in age from 10 to 24, this was common ground for them all.

I also noticed – while I was crying tears of joy over the symphony tickets that three of them gave me (Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue performed by the Phoenix Symphony!) and my husband was perusing his new Rolling Stones book – that the kids were all burbling about bands I’d never heard of.   I love their audacious sense of musical exploration.    In fact, they’ve inspired me to begin an adventure of my own.

Actually, I suppose it would be more honest to  say that my kids have re-inspired me.  I’ve wanted to embark upon this adventure ever since I gave my husband the book, “1000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die” for our 25th wedding anniversary.  I thought we could spend our next 25 years working our way through it.  My husband and I always exchange gifts we’d like to receive ourselves; I give him books, he gives me cooking utensils – with the exception of that particular instance, when he gave me a trip to Ireland.  Utensils or not, his gifts usually top mine.  Neither of us, however, have made any progress in the book.  Until today.

Today is my birthday.  I am now the age my father was when he died.  Not only am I struck, once again, by how young he was, but I’m amazed at how I’ve seen God do so much through a life cut so short.  My siblings and I – the abundant bounty and adventures of our lives – are evidence that God does indeed “restore the years that the locust have eaten.” (Joel 2:25)  Our father’s years were short, but they have been restored through the lives of his children and grandchildren – at least that’s the way I see it.   For me, this has meant a life rich in music and books.  That is why this book – about music – is the perfect capstone for a birthday which is for me wrapped up in no small amount of bewilderment and blessing.

I’ve added a new page to my blog, “Song Journal.”  It is in no way intended as an alternative to Tom Moon’s book.  It is, however, based upon his interesting and inspiring recommendations.  I hope you’ll join me on this adventure.