Cody Johnson and the Cost of Being a Christian

 Tonight I listened to the new tracks released as part of Cody Johnson's Leather Deluxe Edition, and I thought, "Oh, hmm."

It's a very interesting mix of songs, and some of them I found underwhelming.  "Overdue" was very country, but nothing in the lyrics really caught me.  "How Do You Sleep at Night?" was more clever than it appears on the surface, but the chorus really dragged on.

I really liked "The Fall," and I think I was one note away from goosebumps.  I love how the chorus drops down at the beginning into the lower notes, and then slowly rises.  I will admit that after hearing "worth" nine times in the chorus, I was starting to question what that word actually means, but I was also tired so I'll chalk that one up to me.

Cody Johnson didn't seem like the solid family man that he usually appears to be on a lot of these tracks, and that was kind of weird.  I know that an artist's songs don't always reflect their actual life, and I'm sure that's especially true in his case since he doesn't write many of his songs, but it still felt unbalanced.  I often think of him in the same vein as Luke Combs, but I think of Cody Johnson as being even more established and mature, and it was odd not seeing that reflected in the music.  "I Wished It Was You" was particularly frustrating.  But "Over Missin' You" seemed more true to life, and was also extremely well-written.

Okay, why the freak did I start writing this at 11PM.  It definitely wasn't so I could ramble on about every single one of the thirteen tracks that were for some reason added onto a twelve-track album.

The last of the original tracks is called "Make Me A Mop," which I believe I've mentioned on here before.  Interesting title, right?  Interesting song.

The last of the new tracks is called "The Mustang."  And it's also very interesting.

If you're used to Cody Jinks or Zach Bryan or Miranda Lambert, or basically anyone, you'll think that song is about something entirely different than what it is.  It's probably an ode to freedom, to wildness; it probably acknowledges the conflict and the pain that comes with that, but is almost proud of that price.

Let me back up for a second, and actually step away from music for a moment.  I was talking to someone recently about nominal Christianity vs. true faith in Christ, and about how the difference is seen in what you're willing to sacrifice.  Nominal Christians in the South often see their faith as part of their "brand" or identity.  A true Christian is willing to give up their identity for Christ.  They are willing to be changed to look more like Him, even when that is painful.

Morgan Wallen is a great example of nominal Christianity in song.  And I say that not because I want to bash, but because he's one of if not the most popular artist in country music right now and that message is very much out there to be consumed.  "In The Bible" describes it perfectly.

Cody Johnson's music is actually the perfect example of the opposite.  And in particular the two songs I mentioned: "Make Me A Mop" and "The Mustang."

Key lyrics from "Make Me A Mop":

Make me a shovel, make me whatever

A handle on a cup you glue back together

If breaking a man just makes him better,

Then do what you gotta do

The rest of the lyrics follow the same theme.  It's a song full of genuine humility and submission to God.  It is so far removed from the secular mindset, it's almost shocking to hear.

"The Mustang" is, in my opinion, even more shocking.

The start isn't that odd.  It sounds very typical Gospel-y, he was saved from his wild ways, etc.  There's a mustang comparison, but it's easy to not take the metaphor too seriously.

I used to run just like a mustang

With my head down in the wind

At a pace too fast to recognize

The places that I've been

Living up my years of freedom

Like the words to a song

I found myself believing

That I can make it on my own

Then he's saved out of that, and finds himself free.  The only thing that might give you pause is the last line before the first chorus:  I surrendered all I had, and let the master take the reigns.  If you don't like thinking of Christ as Lord that might not go down incredibly easily, but it's still a very normal Christian concept to hear.

The second chorus, however, takes the mustang metaphor and pushes it further.

Often looked upon as beauty

When the mustang runs and bucks

Some criticize the ones we ride

And pull behind our trucks

But they were put here with a purpose

That the wild ones have yet to find

Like me, they just need breaking down

To open up their eyes

And the chorus:

And see I'm free

I'm not scared and I'm not running

I'm right where I'm supposed to be

Yes I'm free

I know from over there

It might look like captivity

But on this side of the fence

It feels like free

Of course there are undertones of this theme in much of country music.  Songs about giving your life to Christ and stepping out in faith.  Brantley Gilbert actually has some of the most sincere expressions of faith in mainstream country music, and has talked a lot about faith and alcoholism.

But I have never heard a song that subverts these specific expectations.  Because he's absolutely right: we do see the wild horses as the most beautiful, and see it as a shame that they get broken and lose their wildness.  There are songs specifically about that, and ones that describe people the same way.

I think there's also a stigma about acknowledging that the Christian's life has to include giving things up.  People want to focus on what it adds, and the joy and the peace, and it's so true that Christ is worth more than all the things we could ever give up for Him.  But we tend to avoid saying anything that could indicate that Christianity has unpleasant parts.

The fact is, true faith in Christ and all that it entails will not be appealing to someone whose heart has not been changed by the Holy Spirit.  Certain aspects will, but not the whole package.  I think that is what is so shocking to me, that he and one other co-writer wrote a song designed for mainstream consumption that I'm not sure non-Christians can even relate to.

To unbelievers, it looks like we're in captivity.  But in Christ, we can see the freedom we have.  Freedom from sin, from guilt, from fear.  Freedom from trying to find meaning in all the things that have no meaning apart from God.

So I guess you could say I liked the song.

Fall Album: KING by Tucker Beathard

 Well, it's my first post of the year, and it's already fall.  I'm sitting outside in what basically amounts to perfect weather; cool enough for a light jacket, but not cold, and a little breeze every once in a while.

I don't have a favorite season (no season is consistent in North Carolina anyway), but I love when summer turns to fall.  I love being able to ride with the windows down without sweating through everything I'm wearing, having more options as far as comfortable clothing goes, seeing the leaves turn warm colors, and being able to spend time outside going on walks, or sitting or talking with friends, or just watching the birds wheeling around against giant blue skies.

I also love being able to break into my fall playlists.  It's not that I can't or don't listen to them at any other time of year, but they never hit as right in July as they do in October.  I listen to individual songs that seem to suit the weather and the mood of fall, but what I really treasure is when I can find a whole album that fits the season.  I have a couple, but for me the dark horse that I've been able to come back to over and over again is KING by Tucker Beathard.

I say dark horse because I have never heard anyone in my circles talk about Tucker Beathard.  I typically listen to the independent guys, the Texans, the Appalachians, the ones who don't have a label and don't need one, because their fans are absolutely crazy about them.  Cody Jinks, Charles Wesley Godwin, Sturgill Simpson, etc.  I read Saving Country Music, and I watch Grady Smith videos on YouTube.  I haven't intentionally listened to the radio in probably a year and a half.

Tucker Beathard is a Nashville boy, born to industry songwriter Casey Beathard.  He was signed to a label when he was 20 years old, and those who would call it nepotism are probably partially right.  Tucker's never really seemed to take off.  He has 74.7k monthly listeners on Spotify.  If you compare that to Kody West, who unlike Tucker doesn't even have a Wikipedia page, it shows how bleak that number is.  Kody has over 388k monthly listeners, and only tours inside Texas.

On the surface, it looks like Tucker Beathard was set up to succeed, and wasn't good enough to.

"20/10 TN" came up on one of my Spotify daily mixes before I had premium, and I don't think I gave it too much thought initially.  This is pretty normal for me, sometimes it takes me a couple listens to really let a song sink in.  It turned up a couple more times, because Spotify didn't really know what to do with my tastes.  And at one point, it caught my attention in a big way.  It was not a normal song.

Music-wise, it was pretty standard.  Mainly guitar and drum, a good melody but nothing crazy.  The lyrics, though, start with "Hey, it's me, I'm just wondering where you are?  I woke up late, I think the game's about to start."  And then we get a second phone call, and he talks about what's happening in the game.

I mean, that's weird enough.  It could be a song just about football, something like "Boys of Fall" but focusing even more on the actual game itself, and I would respect that somebody cut a country song taking football seriously, instead of just using it as an item on a list of things a country boy loves.  But then the chorus comes in with a new intensity.  "And by the way I meant to say that I'm sorry 'bout last night.  I didn't mean to make you cry.  But did you really mean goodbye?"

I mean, where did that come from?  I thought we were just talking about the game!  The chorus ends by him saying that the miracle he's watching (Tennessee beating Alabama) is evidence that he can change.

More football.  More apologies.  The game ends with a Tennessee win, but the girl is still gone.

It's a song of dichotomies.  The game on one side, the relationship on the other.  The courage and intensity of Tennessee beating one of the best college football teams in the country, and the passivity of the man sitting on the couch watching them do it while he pleads with a woman who is driving away from him.  His competing desperation and excitement.

Because Spotify realized that I liked that one, it sent a few more my way, and I listened with varying degrees of interest.  At one point, I realized I just needed to listen to the album.

I can understand why KING isn't pulling in the streams on the same level as Dangerous or American Heartbreak.  It doesn't have any clear big hits.  It has variety and a lot of charm on certain songs, but nothing seems to punch through that minimum level of infectiousness required to win over the populace.  I kind of think that makes it a better fall album though.  Fall is not as loud as summer, or as dreary as winter.  It exists in the in between, and that's where KING tends to settle in.

What else makes it a fall album?  Well, there are a couple clear references.  We've already talked about "20/10 TN"s football theme, but "You Would Think" says "You would think this time of year, when the leaves begin to fall, that you would think of fires and flannel shirts, and I'd be worth a call."  As far as I recall, the album doesn't contain any references to any other seasons.

But there's also a general atmosphere.  It's not an entirely slow or sad album by any means, but the there's a strong tinge of melancholy on many of the songs.  The last song, "I Ain't Without You," clinches it.  It is actually a joyful song, but it's about the effect his brother has had on him, written in the wake of his death.  Fall is all about beauty from death.

I don't need to justify this being a fall album, but I just did.  So that's out of the way, in case it was in anyone's way before.

Another very interesting theme on KING is God.  I've wondered, given the fact that no song on the album seems to supply the title, if King itself is actually referring not to Tucker, but to God.

"Only," by far the darkest sounding song on the album, describes in self-loathing fashion the brokenness of his condition, the ups and downs he goes through without any self-control, the vices and coping mechanisms that he uselessly seeks comfort in.  He says, "I just need to run to the open arms of the only one who knows me," and if you're not listening carefully you'll think he's talking about a woman, but he's not.  He's talking about God.

"Find Me Here" gets in on the self-loathing, and paints a picture of a man lying in a hotel bed after a one night stand, watching a preacher on the TV and hoping that Jesus doesn't come back at that moment.  It uses details like his cross tattoo and the Bible he's using as a coaster for his beer to show the hypocrisy, so we can understand the shame and the fear he's feeling in this moment.  It's interesting to note that this is by far his most listened to song.

On the other side of the spectrum, "Can't Stay Here" is the most fun song.  It's cathartic after so many immature and difficult situations to finally hear him firmly shutting the door on an unhealthy relationship, and it comes with a chorus that's easy to sing along to.  I was very excited to hear this song come over the speakers at a mini golf place earlier this year.

The last song that I want to specifically point out is "Faithful."  There's a modern mindset that we see everywhere that people should follow their hearts.  Indeed, that to not do so is in some way morally objectionable.  It's a cliche at this point, the couple that files for divorce because, "We fell out of love."  People use it as an excuse for adultery all the time, and the effects are devastating.  "Faithful" says, "Let's do what everybody swears is just too hard to. [...] Let's be faithful."

Again.  What a weird concept.  Not, "I'll always love you," or "Marry me," or "You're the only girl I see."  

"Let's be faithful."  Let's make a commitment, and stick to it.  How incredibly cool.

Tucker Beathard is a weird dude.  KING is a weird album.  Go give it a listen.  

Happy fall, y'all.

Living for the Night vs. Living for the Morning

 Sometime in the last few days, I took a departure from my steady diet of alt country and indie Christian music, and pulled up Niall Horan.  It started with "On the Loose" because I had all the windows down and was feeling pretty dang good, and continued from there.  I'm not big into pop, and every time I listen to it the charm wears off quick, so I knew I had to make the most of this time.  I tried to queue up "You and Me," but I guess what I actually added was "On My Own."  And that was a fascinating listen.

I know I've heard it before, but as much of a lyric listener as I am, I had never actually taken note of the words that he sings.  It starts:

Everybody's got somebody
I just wanna be alone
Well I don't need no one
Have too much fun
Out here on my own

And that's it.  That's what the song's about.  There's no big character arc, no moment of realization that he needs people around him.  He gets drunk, kisses girls, gets in fights, and goes to sleep.  It's a dream life.  The song doesn't even mention friends, he seemingly remains socially alone all the time.  Here's the beginning of the chorus:

I'll drink 'til it's empty
Stay out 'til it's late
I'll wake up at midday and marry my bed

Now, I'm not trying to say that this is Niall Horan's actual story.  It took five writers to bring this thing into existence, after all.  And the fact that the character has a shallow and short-sighted viewpoint doesn't mean that it's a bad song either; after all, the best songs don't try to teach us a lesson, they just tell the truth.  I think of "Head Case" by Cody Jinks, where he questions his sanity as he grapples with thoughts of artistry, mortality, and faith in God' (it's a solo write, by the way).  It doesn't give us a solution, it just captures a tortured moment honestly.

And I do find "On My Own" relatable.  Maybe a little too comfortably relatable, and maybe that's what bothers me about it.  I find the message expressed to be one that leads to misery in the long term.  But nothing in the song indicates that it's a bad thing.

So, maybe that's being nit-picky.  Maybe I should just let the song be a song, and not criticize it based on things like that.  After all, didn't I just say the best songs don't try to teach a lesson?

Fine.  What else do I have to say about it?  Well, it's too one-note, content-wise.  Not very dynamic in terms of what it has to say.  So then.

Now let's compare this to a song I heard again today (technically yesterday), when I was listening to Flatland Cavalary's Wandering Star album.  As you can see, I was back on the country, and good thing too.  Otherwise I wouldn't have heard "Mornings With You," Cleto Cordero's duet with his wife, Kaitlin Butts.  Three writers worked on this song, and Kaitlin was not one of them, which makes sense because I actually found it surprisingly impersonal given its nature.  But impersonal or not, it's a solid song about Cleto finding his joy in the simple things in life now, like getting to enjoy coffee with his wife in the morning.  Here's the chorus:

I used to think the good life was burnin' up the night
But runnin' with the devil is a dark and lonely ride
Sometimes it takes an angel to change your point of view
Now I live for mornings with you

Still not a perfect song, but boy does that hit the spot better than "Your company is fine, but I get on better with mine."

One is mature, one is not.  One is self-concerned, one is not.

I don't really have a lesson.  It's just an interesting juxtaposition.  That's all.

On Productivity: A Ramble

 I have always lived in community, intimately and integrally.  Now that I've moved out, I find the hardest part is the lack of that community.

Some would simply adapt, and their world would shrink without too much trouble.  I hope that I do not do this.  I long for another community, to feel the joys and sorrows with, to identify with and support and be supported by.  I long for a family to live life alongside.  Now that I am moved out, I seek not further independence, but an appropriate codependence.

As I was sitting on my bed this morning, letting YouTube shorts suck my soul dry for two hours, I came to ask myself why I was doing this.  I had thought that once I was out and fully responsible for myself, it would make me feel more motivated, not less.  But without my family, it all just feels so empty.  So meaningless.

When I was at home, I cared about my own happiness, but that happiness was connected to the status of the home and family.  Now, my own individual happiness feels pointless.  Shallow.

It draws me back to the catechism question: What is the chief end of man?

The answer: To glorify God and to enjoy him forever.

For as long as I can remember, I have known this catechism question and answer.  I have considered it, but I have considered it mostly theoretically, because I have never seriously had to grapple with what this means on a day by day basis.  It was all laid out for me as a child.  Glorifying God means obeying my parents and loving my siblings and following God's commandments.  That's hard enough, isn't it?

But as a single woman living apart from her family, learning how to glorify God is a new challenge.  It's no longer about not spending all my time watching TV because my parents wouldn't like it, or keeping my room clean to serve my sister, or staying joyful so I don't bring the mood down for the others.  It's just me and God.

---

I began this post on May 31st, and haven't come back to it until now, a month and a half later.  It feels much longer than a month and a half.

I had my wisdom teeth taken out on Monday (it's Thursday now) and so I sort of temporarily moved back in with my parents so that my mother can care for me in my convalescence.  I've been on several meds, taking either Ibuprofen or Tylenol every four hours, a steroid for swelling several times a day, an antibiotic every 8 hours, a strong mouth rinse twice a day... I've been pretty out of it.

Monday I slept, did some work, watched two movies, cried when the pain got too bad, and generally spent almost the whole day on the sofa, which I don't think was a bad use of my time considering the circumstances.

Tuesday I spent a lot of the day on the sofa, working some, but also watching political commentary on YouTube, and then went to see Sound of Freedom with my parents in the afternoon.  And then I think I just watched more YouTube.  Honestly, I have no recollection of that evening, but I feel like my week has been inundated with YouTube.

Wednesday (yesterday), I watched Sound of Music in the morning, and then went to see a buddy fly an airplane for the first time, got taken to Cookout by my parents for milkshakes, video called Sister #3 in the afternoon and got to talk to her and my nephews, one of whom referred to me by the exact sound he uses to say "banana" and the other of whom just barked at me like a dog, and then some friends came over and we watched High School Musical together.  Phenomenal movie.  Then I stayed up until 2:30AM watching YouTube videos.  Like a chump.

Today I watched some YouTube videos (I know, shocking), and then me and my dad went to my apartment to pick up my bathing suit, I came home, lazed around, made some tapioca pudding, and then something happened.

Maybe it's because I'm largely going without pain meds today for the first time since the surgery, or maybe it's just because I've developed more discipline since moving out and am used to being more active now, but sometime around 3 o'clock, things shifted.

I told my mother, "I'm going for a walk.  I'm not bringing my phone, so just holler if you need me."

"You're not bringing your phone?" she asked in obvious surprise.

"Nope," I said firmly.  "Just holla."

And off I went, down to the pond, and then back up to the shop where my dad was working on a project for Sister #1.  I helped him move a piece of plexiglass, and then told him I was going to continue my walk.  He said, "You know, you could bring the four wheeler on your walk."

Obviously, I scoffed at this and said it wouldn't make for a very good walk.  But when I started to pass the four wheeler, I thought, "Why not?"

I changed out of my little sandals into my thrift store Vans that are literally falling apart because I played soccer in them after my cleats fell apart, and spent a while zooming around.  I went up the driveway and down to the pond, and back in the woods and around again.  It was freeing and invigorating.  

I came inside.  I stretched for forty minutes while listening to Ben Shapiro.

Let me use the next few paragraphs to lay out my theory for you.  

When I was living at home, I was never bored, but I wasn't exactly productive.  I spent my time, but I didn't really redeem my time.  I never quite had the energy or, frankly, the need to.  And as much as I would love to claim that I was self-motivated, the evidence says that I was not.

Living on my own (you know, for the long month and a half), I've had to learn to enjoy doing the things that are productive rather than comfortable.  Cooking, grocery shopping, doing laundry, budgeting, etc.  And now that that part of my brain has been activated, I can't exactly turn it off.  So, I want to be productive...but I've learned what that means when I'm at the War Groover Hermitage (my apartment).  I haven't yet fully learned what that means when I'm living at the Ancestral Hall, especially not when I started this stay as an invalid.

My subconscious answer to this dilemma has been to pour my attention into something that feels important - politics.  That's why I've been consuming all the YouTube commentary.  Because even though it's not actually the most helpful thing I could be doing, it still feels productive because I'm thinking about things that call for action.  Not that I'm actually providing that action.

I don't really know what the takeaway is here.  Yet again, I'm up late at night finishing a blog post that I didn't really think through all the way.

I don't have a neat ending to tie it up.  But I'm tired.  So I'm going to do the productive thing, and go to bed rather than spend more time on this.

The Darkness of the Cave

 There is a wealth of discouragement flooding my mind right now.  I feel...well, I feel too much, and all of the wrong things.

And yet, even as I burn with frustration and disappointment, I am conscious that it could be much worse.  That even though I feel overwhelmed and broken and a bit hopeless, I am not, in a true sense of the word, depressed.  The light does feel as if it has been choked out, but I know it is still there, just behind the branches and the thorns.  I know that in the morning, the wind may shift and blow those obstructions to the side, and I will soak the sunlight up again.

And so, I have only to survive tonight.

When I was in my LACE year of camp, the hardest year, meant to test me and prepare me for staff should I return, I had to crawl through a winding section of cave that was maybe two feet high and three feet wide.  Being far down in the cave, the only light was from our headlamps.  I don't know how long we had to crawl, but it seemed nearly unbearable at first.  

My claustrophobia rises if my socks are too tight, and this was a deal more constricting.  If I at some point got hit with a panic attack, I would need to crawl backwards as far as I had come forwards before getting to a place where I could stand up, and it was still quite a long way to the surface.  But ye olde human resiliency revealed itself (thank you, Lord!), and I found that I was capable of more than I had thought.  As I army-crawled through that small space, going first left around a corner, then right, then back again, like I was crawling through a giant snake, I told myself that just around the corner was a big room.  I knew that this was most likely not the case, but I had to trick that raw, instinctual part of my brain into not fighting and not fleeing.  So every turn, I said to myself, "It's okay, there's a big room right around the bend."  And when there wasn't, I just said, "Oh right, it's around the NEXT bend."  It worked.

I could say that's a good metaphor for where I am right now in life, but it's not.  The truth is, right now I'm crawling slower because I don't know what's around the bend.  A big part of me wants to just go back up to the top, even though I know I'm supposed to keep going forward.

But tonight.  Let's talk about tonight.

I was struck with a giant wave of insecurities this evening, right around snacktime.  I did not have a snack at snack time.  Perhaps if I had, I would have carried on quite at ease.

But alas, three o'clock passed, and with it my peace of mind.  I felt rather productive at first, because I was getting some good baking done.  I made cranberry coffee cake AND Fragilite (I can't figure out how to put an accent over the "e", so just imagine it).  But then I tried to watch Hamilton, and it was buffering about every ten seconds, and it basically wrecked the feeling of productivity I had tentatively captured.

It is humbling to think not only about just how frustrated this experience made me, but also how easy it is to normalize it.  Entertainment is such a seductive, addictive thing, and it has strong effects on the mind.  I use entertainment to escape.  That's something that I realized through therapy.  It doesn't do a whole lot for my feelings, but it's a wonder for shutting the door on pesky thoughts.  And I'm so used to using it in this way that it's often the first place my mind goes when I'm stressed about something.  I don't even think about it, I just grab my phone and go to YouTube.  Take a mental sedative.

It used to be that when I finally came out of my stupor, I felt quite ashamed, but also oblivious as to why.  In my mind, I was too tired and stressed to actually do anything useful, so why not enjoy something?  I had tricked myself rather effectively.

When I got back from my recent Europe trip, I was shocked by how many things I found myself wanting to do, and able to do.  I realized how sick it made me feel to bury my stress in my phone, and how much I wanted to be involved in the physical things around me.  I realized that I really did want to be responsible with how I used my time, and that I'm much less miserable when I am responsible.

The question was - would I allow my feelings about work to drive me away from the progress I'd made?  And unfortunately today, the answer was yes.

I don't believe this was a complete relapse.  At some point, I realized that I was wasting time waiting for Hamilton to load, and I just needed to try again later.  I was actually able to turn it off and do something else.  But I still had that awful self-loathing, and it began to pick on insecurities that I had been doing a pretty decent job holding off.

My weight for instance.  I'm short and squat in my opinion, and my weight has definitely begun to grow more within the last year.

Another lesson from camp: one of the questions in our private devotional time that we were supposed to work through was, "Can I stand in front of a full-length mirror in just a bathing suit and say, 'I am fearfully and wonderfully made.'?"  I struggled with that question then, and there has never been a time since when I have had a satisfactory answer.  I know that I am fearfully and wonderfully made, but it somehow doesn't sound very convincing when I look at myself without any clothes to hide behind.

Additionally, since I came back from Europe, my checking account has been pretty dry.  Now, I haven't been paid since returning, and there were many expenses on this trip, so this is to be expected.  But I hate the feeling of not having a safety net (although I really do have a financial safety net still), and it makes me feel like I've done something terribly wrong.  It even has me questioning whether I should have gone to Europe in the first place.  And I definitely should have.

Here's the really important part though.

Sure, I could be more frugal financially.  Sure, I could eat smaller portions and healthier food and exercise more.  Sure, I could get more sleep and treat my friends better and spend less time on my phone.  And these are all things I should do even.  But when I fail at them, I cannot allow myself to think that defines me.  I am not earning my way to heaven.  I am not bribing God to love me.  I am not trying to prove I'm worthy of being his child.

I've already failed.  Horribly, too.  I fail every day.  Yet God never looks at me and says, "She's three pounds heavier than last Tuesday, and she just had a bowl of ice cream instead of going on a walk.  She's hopeless."

I am just as precious in God's eyes as I would be I was a perfectly fit neurosurgeon.  I dishonor him by seeing my worth in those things instead of in Christ.

There's plenty more I could say, but it's late and I'm tired.  The Lord is with me.  He has made me and keeps me even now.  Bad days are just that - bad days.  The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places.

The End of the Day

 It’s 3:12 AM.  My hammock is hanging next to our creek, and I can hear the steady, splashing sound of the waterfall.  I can see the light in the cabin where the boys are going to bed and hear their voices, but not make out what they’re saying.  The light flicks off, but they continue to talk quietly.

The peep frogs peep in the pond.  Crickets chirp.  The moon is just strong enough for me to see the outline of the trees above me against the paler night sky, but not much else.

There have been at least two interpersonal conflicts tonight.  There was an interesting visit to Waffle House, and even now, there’s a Jeep stuck deep in a ravine up by the power lines, that no amount of elbow grease from our weird little crew could compel to budge.  Quite a lot has happened since my mom said “Don’t do anything stupid,” and went to bed.

But on Wednesday one of us is moving, and we probably won’t see him for a long time, so now is the time to be cramming eight people into a vehicle made for five, and plowing through overgrown clear cut on street tires, and standing out by the hammocks talking about I don’t even remember until stupid times.

With “goodnight” still in my ears from the ones in the other hammocks and the ones in the cabin, I remember hearing Taps played years ago at camp, and the words we sang as we went to sleep, knowing that the next day would be another one packed with activity and full of memories.

Day is done, gone the sun;

From the lake, from the hill, from the sky.

All is well, safely rest;

God is nigh.

Emotions, Community, and Obedience

I was in the middle of writing a Music for the Masses post, but some things came to my attention and forced me to change course.  Where to start?

Tonight I drove from the off-site office where I was finishing up work to the store to drop off some pants for a new team member.  I grinned at everyone and said hi, and came inside, and grinned at everyone and said hi, and generally was an enjoyable person to interact with.  Nick came up.  We said hello, I rather cheerfully, he rather dubiously.  "You've been weird lately," he said.

"Oh, how?" I asked.

"Like...happy," he said, or something to that effect.

And my heart sank, because I knew exactly what he meant, and I had just about fooled myself into not thinking about it.

Let's talk about Community.  I've been watching a lot of Community lately, because it's good and because I'm a binger.  I feel a bit like Abed, but I'm afraid that might be very mainstream of me.  Everyone probably thinks they're Abed.  In reality, I worry that I might also have some Britta in me; the awkward selfishness that worries more about what image it's presenting than about other people.  But back to Abed.  I relate to two particular traits of his.

First, he doesn't really understand other people's emotions.  He doesn't get social cues.  People have to tell him what they're actually thinking and feeling, because he won't just pick up on it otherwise.  I'm like that, and sometimes people make me nervous because they seem so unpredictable and impenetrable.

Second, his perception of reality warps based on his own emotions.  [Spoilers ahead]  When Christmas brings up memories of his mom leaving, he sees things in Claymation.  When Troy is leaving, he sees the floor as lava.  He can't process reality, so he avoids it.  He changes how it looks in his head.  I don't take it quite to that level, but sometimes I do change how I perceive reality so that I can put off handling harder emotions.

I hate unpredictable emotions.  They make me feel undependable.  Out of control.  Sometimes it seems worth it just to put on an act so at least I get some facsimile of consistency.  And because I'm so lost in my own head and I feel inscrutable to myself, I assume I'm also inscrutable to others.  But I guess Nick noticed.

I've been pushing negative feelings down with books and shows and friends, because I don't feel like I have time to process them, and I don't want to just feel them.

I feel stuck between a rock and a hard place.  I don't want to fake being happy, but I hate it when I act like myself and people think something is wrong.

I am tired of feeling happy some days, and sad other days.  I want to get to a point where I've just leveled out and I'm content.  But that probably won't come.

I'm scared, because I know there's been some depression in my family, and I don't want to spend years of my adult life going through that.

I'm stressed because I don't want to do what I'm doing for work right now for the rest of my life, but honestly I don't know if there's any job that I wouldn't eventually feel trapped in.

On a smaller note, I'm scared because I feel like my hearing is worse than it used to be, but I'm not sure how to actually measure it, so I don't even know.  And I'm twenty, so if it's going now, that's really not good, and it's almost certainly my fault for blaring my music at extraordinary volumes.

There are days (most days) when I wish that someone would just put their arm around my shoulders and let me cry for a little bit.  But I don't have a person that I really want to do that with, and it seems like a waste of time to cry by myself, so I put that off until a later date.

I can take pressure, and I can take pain.  I know I can, because I've been doing it for years.  But I also know that historically I don't notice when I'm starting to stretch close to my breaking point, and there is a breaking point.  It just comes and snaps me out of nowhere, and then I spend two months sitting on my back porch feeling nothing and talking to no one.

I'm certainly not unique.  Everyone goes through things like this, and many hurt worse.  I don't think it would be false to say that every single adult has felt worse than I'm feeling now at some point in their life.  That doesn't mean I want to keep feeling this way.

Truth is, I am tired of being happy.  I am emotionally exhausted.  I am tired of putting effort into smiling at my friends because I know I'll seem unkind if I don't.  I'm tired of breaking up my alone time because other people want to spend time with me.  And I'm tired of being tired of it, because I know I'm being selfish.

I don't know how to get the rest I need (want?) and to also love others.  But I know that even when I don't feel like it, I have to put others before myself.  I know that to love my friends, and my enemies, is to love Christ.  And I know that love is only partly an emotion, and is primarily choice in action.

So until I reach my breaking point or God shows me how to balance these two things, I will keep making the choice to be kind to others and put their needs before my own.

But it might be worth looking into redefining kindness.  Do I have to smile and joke around?  Is that kind?  Or is that my way of avoiding actually engaging on a deeper level, because I don't trust people anymore?

Well, there's a whole can of worms.

What does it mean to engage with others in a Godly way?  Here's what I know: it has to start with the heart attitude.  I can talk as nice as I want, but if I'm thinking badly of others, I am not actually obeying God's command to love my neighbor.  Another thing I know: God did not create me to be exactly like anyone else, but I am called to be like Christ.  I can't measure my kindness by putting my words up next to someone else's and seeing how they compare.  But my attitude should be the same as Jesus'.  Yet another thing: this whole struggle is a part of my Christian walk.  God didn't promise me that walk would be easy, but he did promise to never leave me or forsake me.  His Word describes him as my strength, my fortress.  He is my Shepherd, and my Father.  I may struggle with this for the rest of my life, but I will never struggle alone.

Welp.  I don't want to spend my whole life putting a mask on for everyone else and then settling back down with a sigh of relief when I'm alone, which is what it feels like I've been doing lately.  And I don't want to be dishonest about who I am with those around me.  I do know that on one important level, I am what I do, so the fact that I can act a certain way means there is some truth in that.  But there's another level on which it's clear that if I'm exhausted and people are saying I'm not acting like me, there may be a gap between appearances and substance.

I think that as a Christian I shouldn't give free rein to negative emotions, by which I mean negative in a theological sense.  Not like sadness, which can be perfectly appropriate though unpleasant to feel at times, but things like envy, or anger in almost every situation.  But I do need to recognize that if I'm feeling those things, they're coming from somewhere.  Sins so often travel in packs, and emotions spring from thoughts and mindsets.  It's good to do some self-examination and be vulnerable.  Not only because the truth is important, and knowing it can help me get to the bottom of what's causing these things, but also because there's great value and comfort in being able to come to God with these things and confess and be held.

Anyhow, even if I don't come to any conclusions about anything, even if nothing is fixed, it's at least good and healthy to process some of the unpleasant emotions that I've been pushing under.  So praise God for that.  And thank God for Nick.

Emotions are good and natural, even though they are corrupted by the fall like everything else in this life.  It's good to feel them, and it's wrong for me to try to control them so tightly.  But it's also wrong to dwell on them for too long and with too much emphasis.  At the end of the day, I am not to follow my emotions.  I'm to follow God, and even when I can't trust myself I can trust his Word.

Now, I present to you a collection of memes that relate to our topic this evening.

[I gave up after getting tired of looking at all the dramatic, self-obsessed memes that people put out there and thought this was funnier, even though it in no way relates to the topic this evening.]

Music for the Masses: Parker McCollum, Morgan Wallen, and more

I’m never quite sure when the itch will hit me, or, more importantly, when the itch will be strong enough to break through everything else on my mind and to-do list, and claim priority. But I’ve been feeling it strengthen for the last couple weeks, fed largely by the new music I’ve been consuming and enjoying. New to me, at any rate.

There’s been a slew of good music released this year, and I haven’t listened to close to half of it. But with that being said, here’s what’s been on my heart to share, or at least to write down, for the benefit of myself and anyone who may happen to stumble across this post.

And just for fun, I’m going to rate each of these artists on scales of 1-5 for Marketing/Style, Songwriting, Vocals, and “Countryness”. Understand that I am not a professional in any way, shape, or form, and these are all my personal opinions which I will proceed to double guess at great length.

Cody Johnson

Marketing/Style - 3
Songwriting - 2 (this is not a songpicking score)
Vocals - 5
“Countryness” - 5

Human
The title track off of CoJo’s new album, this song is one of those confessional, bittersweet songs that I love, especially since it focuses a lot on restless tendencies, something I strongly relate to. It’s a love song and an apology, a self-derogatory assurance of growth, and straight down the middle country. I love some of these lines, from the “I’m sorry if I get kind of careless with your heart” in the first verse, to the chorus’s crowning, “Well I guess all I’m sayin’ is forgive me, if I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m still learning to be human.” Some of my favorite words, and the most interesting, are these in the second verse: “Bless your heart for never trying to fix me, or quit me, or slow me down.” CoJo doesn’t write all his own music, and he didn’t write this one, but he can pick the best of them.


I Always Wanted To
In this song, Cody Johnson sings the words of a 95 year old man who’s stubbornly hanging onto life, despite not being able to drive or change his own sheets, and reflecting on all the things he’s always wanted to do but never did. I think of it almost as a parallel universe to “‘Til You Can’t,” another song on this album, which basically says do all the things you can today, because someday you won’t be able to. In “I Always Wanted To,” he didn’t. It’s an incredibly sad, well-written song that cuts right down to the heart. “I guess even pictures we never take, memories we never made still fade. I never did all the things I wanted to do, but I always wanted to.” I find myself prone to paralyzed indecision a lot. This song is kind of a wake-up call.

By Your Grace
Cody Johnson’s Gospel offering finds some of his biggest vocals on the album, solid enough not to be overshadowed by the choir eventually backing him. When he sings, “Please take my chains,” he uses a vocal agility I honestly didn’t know he had to extend and escalate that last word, until he brings it down gently with, “and set me free.” But it’s the words that I echo as a prayer, finding them more and more applicable. “You’ve already paid every debt I owe.” “Let me not take for granted the depths of your forgiveness, because the only way I’m gonna be a better man is by your grace.”

Parker McCollum

Marketing/Style - 5
Songwriting - 3
Vocals - 4
“Countryness” - 4

There’s something incredibly attractive about Parker McCollum, and it’s not just his face. Unlike Cody Johnson, McCollum does write most of his own songs, and they tend to be self-deprecating songs, full of longing, regret, or often an emotional weariness, and heartbreaking resignation. He’s a feeler, and that feeling isn’t usually happiness. But he’s also (at least in his songs) tough and reckless. His fashion is the modern-day country equivalent of the old-time greasers, unbuttoned short-sleeve button up shirt over an impeccably white tee, jeans, and cowboy boots, topped off with a flat-brimmed ballcap, giving a cultivated bad-boy image that probably appeals most to teenage girls. What has music critics on board is the intelligence of the songwriting. His lyrics are fresh, well-crafted, and fit with hooks that are catchy enough to get stuck in your head, but contain too much depth to be annoying. He has mainstream appeal, and his music may be more on the modern side, but it’s also definitely country, which puts him above 75% of “country” artists you hear on the radio, even without the other benefits listed above. His style won’t appeal to everyone, but, as you may have guessed by now, it appeals to me.


Hold Me Back
This was not released this year, but I don’t think I’ve talked about it before, and it is my all-time favorite song of his, and one of my favorite songs of all time. The theme is similary to “Human.” He says, “There’s gasoline all over this ground. I strike a match and drop it down. I need someone to hold me back.” It’s a slow, gorgeous ballad about needing someone to help subdue his most reckless instincts.


To Be Loved By You
Also not released this year, this was the first song that actually got me listening to Parker McCollum. I had just gotten out of a quasi-breakup, and the best way to describe the feeling of this song is angry to tears. It fit the mood. Originally, this paragraph ended with the last sentence, but on the way home tonight I heard this announced on the radio as Parker McCollum’s new single. It’s interesting that after being out for probably about a year, it’s now getting pushed to country radio - and it looks like it’s getting traction.


Dallas
This is off of his current album, Gold Chain Cowboy, and the hook on this thing caught me the first time I listened to it. “If I don’t leave Dallas, I guess that means that I should be alone,” he says, with signature longing permeating his vocals. Stay or leave? Love or loneliness? It’s not far from a cliche, but it’s written with originality, and sounds great.


Never Loved You At All
The most truly fun song I’ve ever heard from McCollum, this has him at a honky-tonk and thinking, quite simply, “I wish that I had never loved you at all.” With the twangy guitar and rollicking piano behind his vocals, this one is kind of a guilty pleasure for me.


Why Indiana
One that caught my attention when I heard it, and continues to grow on me, McCollum looks for the humor in a breakup, asking why she had to break up with him over the phone while he’s in the middle of nowhere, instead of anywhere more significant.

Morgan Wallen

Marketing/Style - 5
Songwriting - 3
Vocals - 5
“Countryness” - 4


What a guy. What a reputation. What a songwriter. Let’s dive in with some quick looks at the artist who has gone from one of the ignored offerings of mainstream radio to one of my most listened to artists.


Wasted On You
When I listened to “To Be Loved by You,” I usually followed it up with this song. But please, whatever you do, listen to The Dangerous Sessions acoustic version of this, and not the studio version with the poppier production.


Wondering ‘Bout the Wind
In this song, the wind represents this girl’s wandering, and the way she’s always blowing in and then leaving out again. He’s not blaming her, instead he describes it more as just one of those unknown things in nature. Where does the wind come from, and where does it go? He doesn’t know. It’s poetic and existential, and does almost have a gusty feel to it.


Sand In My Boots
This tells the story of a trip to the beach and a fling that ends in nothing. Instead of taking her back to TN with him, he comes back with just some sand in his boots. It’s beautifully written, and contains this wonderful set of lines: “Yeah, but now I’m dodging potholes, in my sunburnt Silverado.” A picture may be worth a thousand words, but these ten words give a pretty clear scene.


Neon Eyes
Morgan Wallen is an adroit storyteller, and he shows it in this song about showing a girl the darker things in life, like jukeboxes and cigarettes, using the color of her eyes as a metaphor for her growth out of innocence.


Livin’ the Dream
“Mama don’t pray for my success anymore, yeah, but Mama still prays for me.” Morgan Wallen has had great success, but it’s come at a cost, and one that he feels. “Livin’ the Dream” finds him on the bottom of the highs and lows that come with fame (or at least that fame allows access to); drinking, partying, traveling nonstop. It’s honest and well-written, but again, please listen to The Dangerous Sessions version.


Don’t Think Jesus
One of Wallen’s unreleased songs that I stumbled across recently on YouTube, “Don’t Think Jesus” is humble and confessional in it’s approach. Echoing the previous song on this list, he starts by quickly describing his rise, but focusing in this song more on the vices, and the disapproval from those back home. Then, with raspy, rising vocals he describes what he would say to himself if he was in Jesus’ position, ending with an acknowledgement that he’s not Jesus, and Jesus doesn’t do it that way. I hope this ends up on the next album, because it’s really a beautiful song, and shows a side of Morgan that I wish he exposed more often.

In Came You - Mikele Buck

I first heard Tyler Hatley’s of this song, which was endearing in a sly, quirky way, but Mikele Buck’s original rendition has a more full-bodied country sound, which gives this fun, interesting song more bite and depth. It’s a very enjoyable listen. It’s also funny, because most songs of this type (“I was living life all wrong before I met you”) are semi-believable, but also feel exaggerated. I tend to think, okay, maybe you were drinking too much, but I’m sure you still had good friendships. The stretch from bad person to “good” person doesn’t seem so far. But this one is impossible to think that about. He’s drinking non-stop, fornicating flagrantly, feeding addictive habits with people he thinks are his friends, and “feeling pretty good about some pretty bad living.” Not only is his lifestyle terrible, he’s not ashamed of it.

But as a Christian, I’m reminded that this is the path we would all go down if left to our own corrupted human nature, and it would get even worse. The only thing that keeps us from it is God’s grace. And by his grace, we are changed when he saves us, fundamentally all at once, and gradually grow more and more like Jesus in every way. “For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works.” (Titus 2:11-14)

In came you, indeed.

Hardy

Marketing/Style - 5
Songwriting - 5
Vocals - 4
“Countryness” - 3

Hardy has written a fair bit of Morgan Wallen’s songs, so they often have a similar sound, and I would guess that a Venn diagram of their audiences would almost just be one circle, but Hardy has kept some of his Hardy-est songs for himself, songs that use smart writing to talk about those cliches that people who hate country music complain about. You know what I’m talking about: trucks, girls, beer. You’re going to find all that in a Hardy song, but it’s going to have more detail. Hardy doesn’t just make bro country. Hardy makes bro country cool.


A Rock
This is my favorite song by Hardy. He takes the idea of a rock and moves it through life with the simple refrain of “A rock, a rock.” It’s both simple and profound, both down-to-earth and surprisingly sophisticated.


One Beer
“One Beer” is not just a good song, it’s an interesting story. It tells about an unplanned pregnancy that leads to a shotgun wedding and a family being formed. It’s not anything too surprising in this day and age, but the way it’s told is impactful. One beer sets this massive snowball of events rolling, but this is life. Things change. It’s not about fighting that change, or trying to control it, but rather learning to accept it. And it doesn’t turn into a perfect life either. The last line of the song is, “Here we go again, drinking alcohol.” Yet life goes on.


If you’re interested in Hardy and would like to know more, I would highly, highly recommend watching Grady Smith’s video, “How Hardy Hacked the Bro Country Code.” It is a tremendously informative and well-made resource, as is most of what Grady Smith makes.

Flatland Cavalry

Marketing/Style - 2
Songwriting - 4
Vocals - 3
“Countryness” - 5


Life Without You
This is the inverse of a previous song featuring Kaitlin Butts called “A Life Where we Work Out,” where a broken-up couple take turns imagining what life would be like if they had stayed together. Now married to lead singer Cleto Cordero, Kaitlin Butts is back to help imagine not being together. Cleto describes it as, “A Tuesday at the motel by the Denny’s on the dingy side of town.” Simply depressing. And yet the silver lining in this song is that the fact that they’re singing it proves they are together.


...Meantime
The harmonies on the chorus are what set this aside for me. Also a duet, this one with Hailey Whitters, "...Meantime" discourages anticipating the future at the cost of enjoying the present.


Tilt Your Chair Back
Everyone needs some time to rest, and get out of the grind, to “let your worries for tomorrow fall amongst the leaves.” This is a beautifully written and sung call to do just that, with simple instrumentation that almost makes you feel like you’re sitting on the front porch in a rocking chair, letting your cares go.

Cody Jinks

Marketing/Style - 4
Songwriting - 4 (this score would have been higher in years past)
Vocals - 4
“Countryness” - 4


If you’ve read my previous music posts, you know that I love Cody Jinks. I’ve never related to an artist more, despite the obvious differences that he’s a 30 year old married man with two kids and a full-time country music career out of Texas. His latest album, Mercy, is not my favorite of his, but it has some solid songs.


Roll
My favorite off of Mercy, Roll says, “Yeah, I know life ain’t easy. Man, believe me, I lose more than I win. You just gotta roll with the flow and the punches.” Despite the whole “life’s not fair,” message, this is one of the most relaxing songs I’ve ever heard from Jinks, and just plain enjoyable.


How It Works
Despite seeming more like rock than country at some points, the rhythm and love story behind this song make it well worth a listen. Cody’s love songs are often expressed in negative terms, like in my favorite one, “No Words,” where he starts the song by proclaiming that he no longer believes there’s good in every man. In fact I believe the only love song he has that doesn’t turn negative at any point is “Dreamed With One.” “How It Works” shows the doubts of everyone around, asking how his relationship with his wife works. And yet, it does.


Nobody Knows How to Read
This song is both discouraging and smartly written. Jinks takes a hand at vague social commentary, talking about agendas being sold to the masses, and being cut into classes. It’s the final lines of the chorus that really show the strength of this song though. “Keep your ear to the ground, there’s signs all around, and nobody knows how to read.”


I Don’t Trust My Memories Anymore
You would almost think this is an old Merle Haggard song. Unlike “How It Works” this song doesn’t venture into the rock realm, and instead remains squarely, steadily country, with steel guitar and dobro swelling at key moments to elevate it to sounding like a modern day country classic. This is one of the things I love about Cody Jinks; he may have his love for the rock genre, and take some of his own music in that direction at times, but he also sincerely loves real country and takes the time to show it.


Birds
This is from a few years back, but I wanted to include it because I’ve started listening to it in the past few months with renewed interest. When I first heard “Birds” I didn’t think much about it. It didn’t have the emotional heft for me that something like “Heavy Load” or “Head Case” did. But my anxiety has been a steady theme for the past year, and it’s been a comfort to hear the patient guitar, steady drum, and sympathetic steel guitar behind this solo write by Jinks. “I know one day there’ll be solace, so I’ll just live ‘til then. If I could only leave my worries with the birds of the wind.”


Blacksheep
Off of Jinks’ 2013 album (EP I guess?) of the same name, this song depicts a black sheep giving his wool away to different people, including his family, a dead man in an alleyway, and Jesus Christ. It’s one of his most incomprehensible songs in my opinion, but also one of the most interesting from a lyrical standpoint. It moves slowly, but if you listen to the words, the repeating chorus of “I stand naked and cold as a crowd gathers ‘round,” packs a real punch.


Other Cody Jinks songs to listen to:

- Fast Hand (from Black Sheep)
- Thunderheads (from 30)
- Prairie House Redemption (from 30) (very interesting sonically)
- Give All You Can (from I’m Not the Devil)

- Tell 'Em What it's Like (from After the Fire)

There's only so much I can say...

This post is far longer than I thought it would be, and even if I kept it going for another three thousand words, I wouldn't be able to list all the music I've had the pleasure to listen to in the last year, or even the last three months.  I love music, and I hope this post helps at least one other person find at least one song that means something to them.

So long,

Anna

Friendship: A Ramble

 Yes, I'm still alive.

There's something inherently uncomfortable about starting this post.  I've been changing, and I don't think for the better.

I mean, ultimately, yes, I'll look back at this time in my life and see it as a necessary piece in the puzzle.  But it's not a fun place to be.

Where do I even start?  I've gotten out of the practice of being honest with myself, looking myself in the mirror and accepting that who I am is who I am, even if it's not who I want to be.  I drive so I won't think, and I listen to music so I won't feel.  Spend hours watching YouTube and browsing Pinterest, stay up hours past when I want to be awake, because I feel like there's too much to do that I'm not doing.

My thoughts revolve around me while I run myself ragged, staying out hours past I get off work being with friends who, to be perfectly honest, I have a hard time caring about.

That's not to say that I don't care about them, just that it takes a lot of intentional effort, just like it always has for me.  It doesn't help things that I don't take the time I need for myself to be home with my family, and get my emotional strength back.

For me, friendships are like running.  It's not enjoyable, but I'm better for it (...not that I actually run...).  I'm starting to come to the realization, mentally at least, that there are benefits other than feeling good, or being comfortable.  A friendship shouldn't make me feel bad, long-term at least, but that doesn't mean that it has to be super affirming or cushy in order for it to be good for me.  The very nature of friendship is antithetical to my personality.  It requires collaboration and compromise.  I like to do things alone, and the way I want to.  Yet unfortunately, that's not the model laid out in the Bible.  "Two are better than one," the Lord says in Ecclesiastes.  And in Job 6:14, "He who withholds kindness from a friend forsakes the fear of the Almighty."

I think that's significant.  It doesn't just say you're a bad friend, but in essence, to not love your friends is to have a low view of God.  

Are my friends created in God's image?  Yes.

Has God put them in my life?  Yes.

Has God redeemed me and freed me from sin?  Yes.

If I am unkind to my friends, I have a low view of God's holiness, his sovereignty, or his grace.

The problem is, I've committed a classic blunder.

I started caring more about the friendship than the friend.

Let's do some philosophizing, shall we?  It's been a while.

A friend is a person.  A friendship is the relationship between two people, and there are initially two ways that can be visualized.

But the more I think about it, the more I start to see another model emerge.

And in this model, the friendship includes wherever the two come in contact.  That means words spoken to and about each other, physical touch, observations about each other, actions that affect each other, anything that comes from one and impacts the other.  There's a lot to be unpacked there that I really don't have time to right now, but the important thing to note is that the relationship of necessity doesn't exist without the two parties and that's why I think this is the most accurate model.

Friendship always includes yourself, and so I think that to really care about the friendship makes it impossible to be truly selfless.  That's not to say that it's wrong to care about friendship (we're not called to be ascetics), but it is a call for wisdom in what we care the most about.

It is wrong to care about friendship at the cost of the other person's good, or at the cost of submission to God.  A dysfunctional relationship is not glorifying to God.

Not that I'm saying my friendships are dysfunctional.  I'm just trying to point out that while we're not called to preserve a relationship at all costs, we are called to love even our enemies.  

Look at the second model again.  The blue isn't really friendship, strictly speaking, it's relationship, not just what two people may be in relation to each other, but the acknowledgement that they are something in relation to each other.  Sometimes that's friendship.  Sometimes it's not.

God doesn't have an explicit call to friendship in his Word.  But it's an understood assumption that we will have friends, and he gives guidelines within that.  Have wise and righteous friends and love them.  He does, however, give an explicit call to be in relation to each other for Christians.  "How good and pleasant it is when God's people live together in unity!" says the Psalmist in Psalm 133:1.  We are to sharpen each other as iron sharpens iron.

A quick search for the word "friend" in BibleGateway turns up some interesting results.  While a discouraging number of verses are talking about the failure and betrayal of friends (Job 12:4, 16:20, 19:4, Psalm 38:11, 41:9, 55:13, Proverbs 16:28, 19:4, Jeremiah 20:10), God says not to return evil for evil, and to keep being a good friend to those who are friends.  He allows for hurt, but not selfishness.  There's a warning to not put trust in friends (Micah 7:5), but not to be hard in heart (Deuteronomy 15:10, Proverbs 28:14).

But as much as the Bible talks about friendship and our relationships to others, it spends much more time talking about our relationship to God.  Being a good friend is good when we love God with all our hearts, bad when we love our friends more than we love God; friendship falls into the backdrop of our relationship with God.  Loving our friends is worth less than nothing if we don't love God more, but it's consistent with love for God.

Which brings me to the next step of this process.  My first problem was that I cared more about the friendship than the friend.  But the second, and really the first and biggest, and in some ways, only, problem is that I don't love God enough.

Friendship is assumed, not commanded.  My relationship with God should be my first priority, and from then on to live in consistency with that love.

Whom have I in heaven but you?

And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.

My flesh and my heart may fail,

But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forevermore.

A Pile of Dishes

 The guests are gone and the food is put away.  I've loaded the dishwasher, but the sink is full of flour-crusted bowls and cheese-covered pots, spoons and knives and a pair of scissors for good measure.  Patience went to bed, but William is asleep on the sofa behind me, and through the crack under my parents' door I see only darkness.  My mom is sleeping by now, and I'm sure that in Washington, DC my dad is doing the same, trying to get as much rest as he can before he flies out early tomorrow morning.  Where he's going is a mystery to me; I only know that this is his first time back to work in months, and his being gone now says that it really is a new year.

I turned off the classic country hours ago, but the sad Italian music only started floating through the kitchen after everyone was gone and it was just me and the piles of dishes and uneaten food.

When I get up tomorrow, I'll start the morning by washing dishes.  New Year?  Sure, sure, but it's the same life, and we just have to keep on going.  And when we celebrate, we'd better make sure we know what we're celebrating, or all we're left with is a pile of dishes.

I happen to know what I'm celebrating, though.  And it's worth a pile of dishes.

Still America

Sometimes it feels like 2020 jumped into the biggest truck it could find and ran over the population of the entire world.  I had to think hard to even remember that there had been Australian wildfires, because so many terrible things have happened since.

But today (or yesterday, I suppose), we Americans celebrated the 4th of July.  Hundreds of years ago, our ancestors willingly put their own lives in danger for the sake of our great nation.

There is no country like ours.  It is unprecedented and, in my opinion, unequaled.  Nowhere does opportunity exist like it does here.  But it's easy to lose sight of that when it's all you've ever known, which is true of most of the people I know.  Especially when debates are happening daily about how much of a place the government has in the private lives of citizens, and it seems like events in general are cancelled this year.

So here we are, on Independence Day, and there are no public firework displays.  No giant picnics or concerts.  No parades.  Everyone is left to fend for himself.  Do we Americans even care that much about celebrating this holiday if it's not handed to us on a silver platter?

Tonight I went to a cookout, where we ate good food that everyone had contributed and then watched $500 dollars worth of privately purchased fireworks be set off in a backyard.  Over the mountains of upstate New York, we could see, but not hear, the colorful explosions of similar celebrations in every direction.

Then, driving home, there were fireworks all around.  Some right beside the highway, some off across the river, or farther into the cities that we passed, lighting up the sky, in celebration and remembrance.

And I remember that what America has always been a symbol of is individual freedom, expressed and fulfilled on a larger scale by communities and governments.

Without the fireworks shows, there are still fireworks.  Without the picnics, we are still together.  Without the parades, we are still patriots.

Though the country may shake, we are still America.

Probably Not Worth Your Time

I just posted about twenty minutes ago, but I had a thought as I was reading my sister's old blog posts.  She wrote for an audience.  Which isn't a bad thing.  There are two kinds of people, those who write for an audience, and those who write for themselves.  (I'm not going to link my Maggie Stiefvater post here, but you should read it.  Also, typing on a touchscreen is FREAKIN' HARD.)

I happen to be the other kind of person, the kind that writes for myself.  As evidenced by the fact that I will spend hours working on blog posts that I know no one will read.  Which sounds kind of sad, but doesn't actually bother me that much.  It's here if anyone wants to read it.  Besides, 1) I have enough vanity to believe that someday people may discover this blog and go back and voraciously read all the old posts, and 2) if somebody ever wants to get to know my brain really well, I'll just point them here.  It's a treasure trove for that purpose.

If you're reading, thanks.  I'm glad that you're enjoying this.  Or hating it, if you're just reading it to hate something.  That's fine too.  And if you're enjoying it, I hope it is better for the fact that I only wrote it to understand things that I did not.

Goodnight.

In Which I Talk About Myself, and Too Much

So.  There's a person I'd like you to know of.

This person is a girl, and she's a reader.  She spent her childhood taking turns reading and running out her wild side, and the reading won out.  Now she's spent years in her head, turning ideas over and over in her head, driven on by curiosity and a need to feel unique.  A need to discover something that no one else has before.  A need to have ownership of something intellectual, and to be respected for it.

She has friends, but she doesn't really feel comfortable with most of them.  She loves her family, but she's a grouch, with a sharp sense of sarcasm, and it comes out most when she's with them.  She's loved and accepted where she works, but she feels like she puts on a mask when she goes there, and takes it off when she gets home.

Because she doesn't feel like her life is at work.  She doesn't feel like it's anywhere, almost.  In fact, the only place where she feel like her life is legitimate and true to her, is at home. 

Narrow, but deep.  Bordered, but rich within.  She's only comfortable surrounded by the same things she's always known and sees every day. 

Physically, at least.  Mentally is another story.  She spends her days in her stories: taking them in through music, and movies, and shows, and books.  And then, with much more pain, but satisfaction as well, she pulls stories out of her head as though they were knotted string on a sticky spool.

And she is content doing that; sometimes happy, usually restless, always thinking.

She philosophizes, because that's what life is to her.  She tries to be better, but feels that she is not.  She loves her friends and feels pain because she forgets they even exist, and feels pleasure because that pain is a writing tool, and feels guilt because she should be better than to use pain she's earned for pleasure.

She hoards the diamonds she finds in her own mind, and expects people to know she's rich.  She feels her mind has too many pieces for them all to hold together.

And...shocker.  This girl is me (as if that wasn't obvious all along).

The reason I've described myself in such dramatic terms is that it tends to be how I think.  I have a tendency to wallow in dramatic generalizations about myself.  It's quite pathetic really.

But it points to something true about myself.  I've spent my life discovering reality through the lens of books.  And books, while good and lovely and useful, work not by describing all of reality, but by taking conflict and condensing it into a digestible form.  Words are meant to be a translation of truth.  I happen to speak and write in English; it's the only language I understand (with the exception of a wee bit of Spanish).  So when I'm talking about compassion and kindness for someone who doesn't deserve it, I make some sounds with my mouth that people understand as mercy.  And I spell it that way when I write it out, putting those lines and curves and spaces together like that, because everyone else knows this system that we use to express ideas.

But the idea of mercy existed before English did, and all the forms and systems and rules that we use to judge whether something is "correct" work not as truth, but as a carriage for truth.

Does that make sense?  Language is the tool, not the craft.

And it's very useful, and it can be used very beautifully; and by beautifully, I mean well, as in it efficiently and accurately communicates those amorphous ideas that swim around in minds, so that when I say, "Your hat's hold on your head is tenuous," you understand that I am saying that your hat is coming off of your head, and that I am giving you advice, or possibly a warning, and also that I have some measure of competency when it comes to vocabulary.

And when I said efficiently up there, I didn't mean you only say the barest amount, or use the shortest words.  Look at the example up there: I took over three times the amount of words to explain what I had said than to actually say it.  I used the words I used because they conveyed exactly what I wanted to say: no more, but also no less.

That's efficiency.  It's getting the right effect for the proper price.  And of course, the only way to know what the proper price is, is to know the market.  And that's why having a good grasp on how to use your language tools is important.

But I digress.  Like, all the time.  But specifically right now.

So, me.  I read book people more than I read real people.  And book people are condensed and effective.  They confuse us, but only when they're calculated to (if it's not calculated, we say that their book is a Badly Written Book).  They are supposed to be condensed, in order to convey a deeper message about people and circumstances.  We're supposed to fill in gaps in our heads, and most of us are quite good at this, and have no idea we're doing this.

Unfortunately for me, it is possible to read so much that one believes that book people are the full, expanded thing, because one doesn't have many real full, expanded things to compare them to.  And that's the boat I've found myself struggling to get out of.

The trouble is, you have to get the boat to shore, and then you have to actually step onto the shore, which isn't nearly as relaxing as the water.  And then you have to trust that you can walk away and come back from time to time, and the boat will still be there and working.

Because, to be honest, sometimes it isn't.  But boats also tend not to be very livable long-term.

This metaphor has kind of gone overboard (I hope I'm not throwing you in over your head; I can sea how it's easy to drown in all these ideas).

Well.  (That's a deep subject.)

OKAY.  WE ARE GETTING BACK ON TRACK NOW.

What I've been trying to say this whole time is that it's easy to confuse the tools for the craft.  So the way I described myself up there is, in a way, my attempt to understand who I am.  It's me trying to take all the pieces and condense them into a few manageable ideas.

But I am far from manageable.

So what I said up there is truthful to a degree.  But it's certainly nowhere close to being the whole truth.

And in the spirit of being truthful, even the tone is deceptive.  It paints my life as rather dramatic and intellectual and intense.  And my life may look like that from certain angles.  But I was describing it as though I felt that way myself, and I don't feel like that at all.

In fact, words I would use to describe my mental state more than half the time are as follows:

Muddled.

Clotted.

Cobbled.

Overwhelmed.

But imagine if I wrote like that.  It would look like this:

have to-Alexa and Max would but (fountain pen ink) not Ranger and Erica------->future (2 years?)                           [what song] {Wythin} I need to clean my room=disaster | please stop eating, Anna - where did my papers--goodness, I didn't know we had doughnuts {RIVENBARK}--> Theodore was the original source of my genius, I'll never [melancholy shift] get that back //// just keep writing - belltower?  (flower?) [[thought you had my back [lack, sack, hack, rack, track, TRACK], our trains on the same track]] <--too plebeian. (snob) [is funny]                        (dirty room)) LET'S WALK [where to go?]  loneliness is my lot in life [Britta and Jo?] [tired of driving

And that would be exhausting, and it may communicate something, but it's not easily digestible.  It's also not fun (that was the hardest writing of this entire post, by far.  I've been sailing).

So instead, I've been trying to use the gifts God gave me to put something out there worth somebody reading sometime.  My ability to analyze.  My strange sense of humor.  My flair for the subtly dramatic (boy, I hate describing myself in those last five words).

And I guess something else, maybe.  My desire, if not talent, to be vulnerable.  To make myself understood. 

It's all a show, of course.  But it's supposed to reveal something deeper.

What a ride this has been.  I have a feeling I've done even more rambling than usual, and I'm not quite sure what I've even said.  But hopefully there's something good up there in that mess of words.

It's been fun anyhow.

A parting note: the patterns, the truth, the forms, make no sense without God.  This would all be a whole bunch of gibberish without my King.  There is no commonality or basis for reality without him.  So I know I didn't say much about that, but seriously.  Think about it.

Also, I NEVER edit these things before posting them.  I don't read it or anything.  I just decide I've said what I want to say and hit the publish button.  So you're welcome.

Hello New Year

True to form, I already started this post earlier, on New Years Eve, didn't finish it, and decided what I had written wasn't really worth keeping anyway.  So I erased it all, and started again on a blank page on this first day of the year, and of the decade.

In a way, it seems kind of symbolic.  We've been told, and maybe we actually believe, that the New Year is a time of change.  Of improvement, and even of starting over.  A time to shed the things in your life that weigh you down, and to carry on without inhibition.  Because it's the new year.  And new is somehow...different.

But of course, I've always had trouble seeing the passage of time as an indicator of any kind of practical change.  I wrote a post about that, many years ago on my birthday.  I talked about how numbers simply quantify time, they don't define it.  The river keeps on going; it may be flowing past different mile markers, but you could move the mile markers and the river would be the same old river.

The mile markers aren't special because they make us come farther.  They're special because they remind us of how far we've come.

2019 was a strange, dramatically subdued year for me.  I look back and it seems at first glance that I've accomplished absolutely nothing this past year.  I still have no idea what I'm doing with myself.  I'm still struggling with many of the same sins.  I have fewer friends than I did twelve months ago.

It's only when I look long and hard at the last mile marker that I understand just what this year has meant in the grand scheme of my life.

There are many things that I could look at and point to and say, "In at least some small ways, this thing has changed me."

I have a job.  I have several new stories that I will someday finish.  I have a nephew, the sweetest little three-month-old who loves to smile at Aunt Anna.  I have ideas for things that I want to do.  My room is a little bit cleaner than it was the other day, and will likely continue to improve.  I say likely, because I've decided that that is worth my time, and so I will not simply hope for a cleaner room; at least not without then walking back into the house of action and getting to work.

But one of the most important ways in which I've grown is in how I take pain.  I'm not good at pain.  It's just so uncomfortable.  But this year I've learned that there are things that I can't control, and I've learned to accept the consequences of these things.  I cannot overrule God.  And while this sometimes leaves me feeling lonely, it also helps me see that I can live, and I can live well, without many of the things that I didn't think I could lose.

I don't know what the coming year holds.  I don't know a lot of things about myself and about my life.  If I'm being honest, there's some apprehension doing its rounds in my heart.  There's so much left behind.

But look--there's so much river ahead.

My Favorite Books Through the Years

12:24 AM, December 25th. Good morning and Merry Christmas.

It’s my dad’s first Christmas at home in about five years, and the first Christmas that my little nephew has ever experienced. True to form, I procrastinated on my Christmas shopping (though not as much I usually do) and spent much of yesterday thinking about what a suitable gift for a baby’s first Christmas is.

I’ve known ever since I really started thinking about it that a book is the way to go. The right book is welcome before they can read, and is loved for a lifetime to follow. And so I thought, what book should I get for Nephew?

Nowadays, if you ask me what my favorite book is, I’ll tell you it’s The King of Attolia by Megan Whalen Turner. The whole series is fantastic, but that one in particular (the third in the series) stands out to me as a well-thought-out, tightly plotted novel with incredible character development.

And I would tell you The Scorpio Races. There’s so much texture and character on every page, understated and warm, and, again, containing such beautiful character development.

These are my top two. They are books that I have read many times, and will never grow tired of. And they would be terrible Christmas gifts for Nephew.

Nephew doesn’t know the first thing about character development. He couldn’t even tell me the role of conflict in a story. Nephew is just starting to learn to hold his head up on his own.

But these weren’t always my favorite books. I worked my way up to them, as all readers must.

And so, when I was young, what were my favorite books?

I took a look at my shelves, and I found some that I loved as a child. Books that I read over and over again, starting from when I was rather young (six or so), that I still smile thinking of.

Before The King of Attolia, I loved the All the Wrong Questions series by Lemony Snicket. I still think that Daniel Handler has a very distinctive voice, and such a unique grasp on word-choice. It’s a matter of preference for me, and I’m about to give you a spoiler. I don’t like sad endings. End spoiler.

Pride and Prejudice has always been well-loved by me. I’m not sure when I first read it, but it’s always been able to grip my attention; I’ve found that every time I read it, I find more that I’ve never noticed before.

While I wouldn’t say these have ever been my favorites, I’ve always loved the Gregor the Overlander series by Suzanne Collins; and if that name sounds familiar it’s because she wrote The Hunger Games, which I happen to think is an inferior product next to Gregor.

Redwall was my favorite series for a very long matter of time; several years, in fact. Probably from seven to about twelve years old.

This next paragraph I wrote a bit later; I figured if I didn’t turn out the lights and go to sleep lying down, I’d end up doing it sitting up, and then I’d spend Christmas trying to work the crick out of my neck. So now it’s 5:04 PM. The sun is setting and the gifts that we opened this morning are scattered around the house.

But as for Redwall, I devoured it. I read every single book, and today most of them sit on my shelf. Martin the Warrior was my hero, weasels my enemies, and Redwall Abbey my home. I explored that world, the woods and high seas. It was the energy and the adventure that drew me in. There was so much possibilty to explore in the world of Redwall. I haven’t read a Redwall book in probably four years, and I think that’s a shame. I wish I had more time these days to devote to rereading the books that first fed my love of reading.

But while Redwall might have been my greatest obsession as a young reader, it was not my first. That status belongs to the Hardy Boys books. I vividly remember pulling The Twisted Claw off of the shelf that sat behind our sofa, and looking at its cover curiously before opening it up.

I went on to read and reread all of the Hardy Boys books that we owned. I discovered Nancy Drew in my sister’s room and enjoyed them, which isn’t surprising given the similarity in form and content. But there was something about the Hardy Boys that was always more attractive to me. The writing was lighter and funnier; more outrageous in some ways, but less dramatic. It was boyish.

There are other books that stand out to me; standalones that weren’t able to take over my life to quite the same degree, but have settled solidly into place on my favorites list.

Years ago, on one of our long family roadtrips, perhaps to my aunt’s wedding in TX, we listened to the first audiobook that I ever remember listening to. I remember hearing of a woman eavesdropping on the same men who were looking for her, as she hid upstairs in an inn. I remember her realizing that the dirty Jewish peddler is actually her husband. Years later, I borrowed that book from the library. It was, of course, The Scarlet Pimpernel, and it’s one that I return to from time to time to discover with Marguerite the man she really married beneath the facade he hides behind.

The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle was where my addiction to independence met my love of reading. There are few books that have showcased to me so clearly the struggle to be free and the consequences of succeeding. Or the way that the fight to survive can change a person into someone completely different. In so many books, the hero doesn’t understand the choice they’ve made until afterwards. Confessions is stark and thrilling in its simplicity. The setting and the short cast list give plenty of space to see clearly the choices set before her, and the consequences of them. But there would be no enjoyment in the fight, of course, if we couldn’t see what she was fighting for. I didn’t know until Charlotte stood on the top spar of the mainmast, with the wind in her hair and nothing but ocean for miles around, how good freedom tasted.

And so, on this Christmas of 2019, my love affair with books continues. This year I got Stephen King’s On Writing and Greek Philosophical Terms: A Historical Lexicon by F.E. Peters. Neither of these are fiction, but I recently raided a bookstore, so fear not. There are so many stories out there to read, and so many characters to get to know.

But a good book is a good book at any age. Good writing somehow goes beyond the age and the context of the reader to get to something deeper. I learned more about myself from the books I read in my youth than I did from what my friends said about me. I learned what it feels like to open up whole new sections of the world, all at once. And believe me, after writing this post, I have some rereads planned. I’d like to remember that feeling again.

Yet after all this, none of these books were right for Nephew. It’s hard to find a good book for a baby.

When I looked on my shelf last night, I pulled out a book that I used to read often, as evidenced by how beat up its paperback cover is. I wondered how old it was, so I looked inside.

The first surprise was that the book itself was printed either in 1988 or 1992 - probably the latter. I had always thought it was given to me new. I found the second surprise when I opened the book.

Christmas 2005
To Anna - This looked fun!
We love you,
G’pa Tony + Marnie

Not only had I not known who gave this book to me, I hadn’t realized that it was given to me when I was only four years old.

I don’t know how many times I’ve read Mr. Popper’s Penguins. It’s been in my life as long as I can remember. It’s strange and funny and delightfully old-fashioned. And I think it would make the perfect gift for my nephew.