"The impossible dream..."

"To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go

To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star..."

The girls came home singing the music from "Les Miserable" this weekend, and something about it sparked a memory for me. At first I couldn't put my finger on it -- and then, there it was. Me, not much older than they are now.

It was the early 70s, and our English teacher, Ms. Kazman, decided to take the American Lit class to a matinee showing of "Man of LaMancha." Sitting in the theatre that afternoon I thought my heart would break wide open, and that all my fragile dreams would come rushing out in a tumble of hope -- leaving me naked and exposed in front of my friends.  But they didn't.

At that point, my dreams were safe, intact, and going according to plan. Graduate with honors, go to university on scholarship, become the "me" I dreamed of. Nothing would stand in my way.

Once we left the darkened theatre and walked into the afternoon sun, Don Quixote's out-of-reach quest, and Dulcinea's redemption, weren't themes I wanted to think about. And as much as I loved the music, especially "The Impossible Dream," I couldn't let an old man's story of chasing windmills bring me down. But like I said, I did love that song.

What a difference a year would make.

My next memory of this song is as an emotional lifeline. My dad had passed on suddenly, and my mother, seven younger siblings, and I were left without support.  No insurance or pension, and no one to turn to -- but God.  All former plans evaporated in the heat of our greater need -- to help one  another through what seemed like an impossible trial of our strength.

Suddenly songs like "The Impossible Dream," were not just beautiful, but vital. I can remember countless moments of getting in my car, sliding the bulky recording of "The Man of La Mancha," soundtrack into the 8-track player, and singing at the top of my lungs.

I was usually alone as I drove the 60 miles from where I worked to the old stone farmhouse my family had moved to while I was still in high school.  But I often felt as if the entire cast was in the car with me.  And I can still feel the hot tears of anger and frustration, mixed with hope and resolve, when I hear them sing these lines:

"This is my quest,
to follow that star.
No matter how hopeless,
no matter how far.
To fight for the right,
without question or pause.
To be willing to march into hell
for a heavenly cause.

And I know,
if I only be true,
to this glorious quest
that my heart
will lie peaceful and calm
when I'm laid to my rest..."

Perhaps it sounds heavy and morose, but this was what I clung to. I truly believed that, "nobody wins, until everybody wins." This was my truth.  I couldn't even imagine any other.  It wasn't a noble gesture. It was, simply, the only path I knew I could trust for myself -- if I ever hoped to lie peaceful and calm when I lay down to rest.

So, that was what I did. My quest became inextricably united with that of my family. Making sure that we all survived, were healthy, educated, and safe became a family quest. And over the years, this song -- along with many other inspired songs of hope, hymns of faith, and anthems of courage -- helped us take the next step...and the next, and the next.

Families around the world face these kinds of challenges every day.  We were no different.  And like those families, we learned to find our way through faith, hope, trust, and love.

When I hear my daughters singing "I Dreamed a Dream..." from Les Miserables, I can't help but remember how I was just a girl myself when I dreamed an "Impossible Dream." But it's an impossible dream that has come true.

When I look at my sister's contribution to the national dialogue about prison reform through her book, "Life after Life," I feel like a dream has come true. When I see my brothers' devotion to their families, their work, and their community -- the dream is alive and breathing.

When I consider my sisters' contributions of music, art, community, wellness, education, motherhood -- and so much more -- I feel as if we have collectively dreamed an impossible dream that's come to life in ways untold.

And when I think that our mom is still able to witness and experience her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren's love, health, and happiness -- well, the dream was not so impossible after all.

The Bible asks:

"What cannot God do?"

I can answer, "Nothing, there is absolutely nothing that God cannot do." He can make impossible dreams come true. He gives us strength when we've reached our last ounce of courage, and enough love to go, "where the brave dare not go."

I am so deeply grateful,

Kate

"Ignite the light, and let it shine..."

"...You're original,
cannot be replaced.
If you only knew
what the future holds.
After a hurricane
comes a rainbow.

Maybe you're reason why
all the doors are closed.
So you could open one,
that leads you to the perfect road

Like a lightning bolt,
your heart will glow.
And when it's time,
you'll know...

You just gotta ignite the light,
And let it shine...
Just own the night,
like the Fourth of July."

I'm not much of a Katy Perry fan, but I knew I'd be writing a piece with "Firework" as the keynote, ever since I first heard it on our drive in to school, one day last week.

The perfect match of "story and song" began to percolate the other night at the 'Reef and Beef Benefit Concert' (Heifer International and a Gulf spill relief non-profit were the proceed recipients) last weekend. 

There were so many wonderful acts featured during those two hours, and one remarkably funny emcee (thanks Travis).  But there was one performance that released floodgates of gratitude in my heart.

My lovely, talented niece Lily, poised on the edge of a high stool, and a brilliant singing career, performed an original, amazing composition of the "23rd Psalm" that was arranged by her mom, Laurie. 


The performance itself was inspired and breath-taking. But it was the backstory that had me in tears.   And it is the backstory, that Laurie has given me permission to share here. 

I've known Laurie since we were both newlyweds.  One weekend, long before Lily (or her sweet older sister Kristen) were born, Laurie came for a visit to our home in Colorado.   Her husband was out of town on a coaching trip with his high school wrestling team, so we had girl time. 

Laurie, our daughter, and I spent that Saturday touring the exhibition hall at our County fairgrounds for a Home and Garden show, before going out for a specially-planned English high tea at a local antique gallery.  Translucent vintage bone china, scones, Devonshire cream, marmalade, tiny cucumber and watercress sandwiches, chocolate truffles, and petit fours...it was a lavender, linen, and lace spread, right out of Victoria magazine.

We'd had a great afternoon, and were finally sitting in our cozy little living room, talking about grand hopes, career goals, interests, and dreams, when I asked Laurie what her greatest life desires were. 

I already knew that Laurie loved family.  Seeing her devotion to her husband, parents, brothers and sister...up close and personal...over the years, that fact was a given.  But that afternoon, Laurie shared with me, that her dreams for herself were, quite simply, in this order:  motherhood, playing piano, writing/arranging music.  She spoke of each with such complete focus, humility, and passion, that I couldn't imagine any of those desires not being fully realized. 

In the ensuing years, I was to discover that Laurie is an inspired spiritual thinker, a brilliant comedic writer, a gifted teacher, and a devoted wife and daughter, but it was those three "dreams"...motherhood, piano performance, and musical composition/arranging...that I have never forgotten were the silent desires...the prayers...that Laurie placed at the feet of Christ each day.

Laurie's desires weren't "wants," they were promises from her Father-Mother God.  And I made note that day, to watch those promises growing in her life...like a tender mustard seed taking root...wanting to see, as the years went on, how God would work his purpose out in her life.

Within a few years, Laurie, and her husband, were the delighted parents of two beautiful daughters, Kristen and Lily. 

Laurie is a devoted mom.  She has also played the piano for her daughters' school, her church, at family gatherings, as a teacher, at weddings, in recitals, for choirs, and during the holidays at public venues throughout the city.  She has honored, and celebrated, the musical arrangements of her favorite artists...it was Laurie that first introduced me to Jim Brickman...while developing her own "sound," as a composer and arranger.  Laurie's prayers live in the lives of her daughters, her family, and her music.

Now, for Lily.  I've always wondered if Lily was, quite literally,  born singing.  As a toddler, she could be heard singing to herself in the backseat of the van...at times, much to the chagrin of her sister and cousins.  But Lily was unfazed.  Lily loved to sing...and so she did.  Lily sang while she read, she sang while she walked, she sang while everyone else was playing outside.  Heck, Lily sang while she played outside.  She was a soccer player and a singer.  She was a swimmer and a singer.  Lily just sang.  And Lily still sings...beautifully.  It never mattered what anyone else thought about her singing...Lily sang.  And nothing ever stopped Lily from singing.

So, you may ask, what is this all about.  Well, for me, it is about seeing...watching.  It is about watching someone's desires, living prayers, take form in words and deeds.  And it is about calling attention to this spiritual phenomenon when those divine promises bear fruit.  Like that mustard seed which grows into a tree that birds can lodge in, a realized dream...anyone's realized dream...is a tree that we can lodge our own hopes in.

Watching Lily sing the 23rd Psalm, while her mom played the piano...beaming all the while at her beloved daughter... was one of the most heart-achingly beautiful moments of grace, for me. 

I don't think that Laurie has ever lost sight of her desires...no matter how they played out moment-by-moment, day-by-day. As long as Laurie was mothering, playing the piano, and involved in creating beautiful music...she was happy. 

Lily loves to sing.  And she has never cared who was listening...or if anyone was listening.  If Lily was singing...she was happy.  She lives her truth, her relationship to God, everytime she sings.

Witnessing Laurie and Lily...loving each other, playing the piano, singing a truly beautiful song they had written and arranged together...was a privilege. It was like having a front row seat on the fulfillment of a promise.  I believe that Mary Baker Eddy is encouraging us to trust in God's promises as guidance for our lives, when she writes on the first page of Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures:

"Desire is prayer, and no loss can occur from trusting God with our desires, that they may be moulded and exalted, before they take for in words and deeds."

It was clear to me the other night, that I was being given a precious gift. One that I'd had the opportunity to catch a glimpse of, almost 20 years earlier. 

Neither Laurie, nor Lily, seemed to care where they were performing. They could have just as easily been sitting alone at the piano in their living room, as they were on the stage of Ridgway Auditorium  -- in front of 200 people.  They were not living for applause, they were living their desires, their prayers, out loud...and they were just letting us get a peek at what it looks like to live your dreams...unconditionally.

And while Laurie's love for her daughters, her family, her life, quite literally poured out of her heart on stage that night...I could almost feel that same love...God's love...beckoning to each of us, asking us to embrace our own desires more trustingly. 

Only Lily could be Lily.  Only Laurie could be Laurie.  And only you, can be you.  You are an original and cannot be replaced.  If you are not living your desires...the desires that God has put into your heart... to live and to love...no one else can.  Your "niche in time and eternity" is only yours to fill, and God wants you to fill it...with your love for whatever it is...that you love.


Thanks Laurie for allowing me to witness the fulfillment of God's promise in you, and for letting me tell this story. 

Thanks Lily...you are dearly loved...


Aunt Kate


There is a link in the text, above, to Lily's beautiful performance of the 23rd Psalm, but since I don't want you to miss it, I am share it here again...I had an entire post written about the 23rd Psalm that I had expected to put with Lily's video, but Laurie and Lily's story was much more compelling. The 23rd Psalm speaks for itself. If you would like to read an earlier post about Rabbi Harold Kushner's insights on the 23rd Psalm,"It was Enough" you can click on this link.

*a new post on creativity...that refers to this one, titled "to more than I can be...".  is linked here.

"In mercy, in goodness...."

"In mercy, in goodness, how great is our King;
Our tribute, thanksgiving, with glad hearts we bring.
Thou art the Renewer, the Ancient of Days,
Who givest, for mourning, the garment of praise..."
-     William P. MacKenzie

I think I must have been a pollster in a former life.  And before you "mute" this post because it talks about reincarnation, or get your knickers in a twist, I do not believe in past lives…I do believe in eternal life.   I believe in the seamlessness of being which death neither interrupts nor sidetracks.  That said, I will go back to my original statement…I think I must have been a pollster….

It's not that I love polls.   I love polling.  I love asking a broad spectrum of people the same question and watching patterns emerge.  Sometimes these patterns support a thesis, sometimes they are arrestingly contrary to what I assumed, and often they indicate what works…and doesn't work…in our relationships with one another, our schools, our places of commerce, our businesses, and in our communities of faith.

Over the years, especially since launching my website and this blog, I have had the privilege of talking with many people who have left their faith traditions to explore other worship communities or to go solo in their journey towards a deeper relationship with the inner unseen…the spiritual.

One question, of the many that I pepper my new friends with is, "While you were 'away' from your former faith tradition, what did you miss the most?"  There have been many answers, but the one that surfaces over and over again is:

The hymns, songs, chants…choir…the music about God.   Responses overwhelmingly support the important role that music plays in the spiritual lives of children…men and women.

I get this. 

Readers of this blog know that I left my own childhood faith at 19 after the sudden passing of my father.  At first I thought it was because I was angry with God…"how could You, a loving Parent Yourself, so thoroughly let down a good and kind woman like my mom…a woman who now has to raise eight children with only a teenager (me) to help her?", I fired off in an angry prayer.  But I quickly acknowledged that I was praying, so I still had some faith, and hadn't completely given up on God.  So secondly,  I thought I must be angry, hurt and frightened by the way my parents' church had retreated from our family following dad's passing.  But even that yielded with the realization that the church members really didn't know how to behave when facing a widow with eight young children in their midst…there was really no model in their culture for responding and that if they had known how to do it better, I was absolutely certain that they would have.  

Hmmm…that left me with only one option in considering the cause for my rather tangential journey -one that took me away from my childhood faith tradition - and it was, and could only be, God...since He is the only, omnipotent Cause and Creator.  He had created me to be a thinker who asks a lot of questions.  Someone who loves research and reason, therefore I deduced, my path needed to include a broader exploration of spiritual ideas in order to harvest out what worked for me. 

So, for over a decade I explored many different churches, religions, belief systems and faiths.  I learned so much about humanity and how much we have in common.  I also learned that each path towards a greater understanding of God is perfect for the person who is led to choose that path, at that moment.  The destination, and how we treat eachother along the way, is all that matters. 

And even though my path always felt like hunger and longing, it was rich and full of new landscapes to explore and new cultures to assimilate.  I loved all that I discovered as a Buddhist, a protestant, a Rastafarian…but for me, there was a song that kept calling me home…calling me back to the familiar and well-tested, the proven and foundational in my life.  Quite literally.  It was a song…a hymn that continually poked at my heart when I prayed, or walked past a Christian Science Reading Room, or sought comfort in a moment of fear. 

While I was in high school Larry Groce released an album (yes, Virginia there really were vinyl albums with square cardboard covers once…those aren't just props in a Pottery Barn catalog) titled, Peace, and Joy, and Power, and on it was the song, "In mercy, in goodness". It was a radical departure from the "church music" I was used to.  It was all folk.  Guitar, flute…rich vocals, gentle messages.  And I loved it.  I couldn't get enough of it.  Playing it on our old portable record player with the maroon fake leather finish made me feel closer to my God, the one who made sense to me, more than anything else in my church…or my life. 

When I left my daily practice of Christian Science I somehow thought I couldn't listen to it anymore.  This worked for a while.  I was okay with the gospel choir at the Baptist church I attended with my friend Benita.  I like meditating with a recording of Tibetan monks at the "reformed" temple I visited in LA.  I played tapes by contemporary Christian artists, swayed with "born agains," and moved rhythmically to a Rastafarian beat with my Jamaican friends as we prayed together, but when I was alone it was "In mercy, in goodness, how great is our King…" that played through my heart and made me weep with longing for something I couldn't put my finger on.

And to make matters worse, whenever I moved…which was a lot…I always ended up living near a Christian Science Reading Room.  On the way to the market or to the dance studio I would pass plate glass windows filled with books and imagine that somewhere in the back of a quiet room was a cassette player with a copy of "Peace, and Joy, and Power" just waiting to be played.  And I wanted to listen so badly.  I wanted to walk boldly through the door and right past the woman at the desk and find that tape player and sit in a big comfy chair and just drink it all in.  But I couldn't.

I would certainly think about it.  I would imagine myself opening the door with the little bell attached to the inside.  I would say hello to the Librarian and….well, that was where I would stop.  You see, I was a school teacher and principal during the day…a respectable profession, but a few evenings a week and on weekends, I was a freelance sommelier…a wine expert.  My expertise was in the French reds and the exciting, new world of Californian wines...just beginning to blossoming in the 1970s.  I consulted with high-end restaurants (that couldn't justify a full-time sommelier) on a per diem basis and wine had become my culture, beautiful wineries and crystal stemware defined my world, my perfectly-tuned palate was "a gift". And I was afraid…afraid that if I walked into a Reading Room I could never be sure that the person behind the desk wouldn't be able to detect wine on my breath and then what…what if they knew my family.  What if I brought shame on my mother, a wonderful woman who was still very active in her church community.   So, I would walk on.

This went on month after month, year after year…in one neighborhood, city, state after another. 

It's a long story…most some of it's chapters are buried in the archives of this blog in stories that have already been told.  This post isn't about those stories of how I finally found my way back into my childhood faith community, it is about the power of a spiritual song, a hymn, a musical prayer…to penetrate our fears of rejection or disappointment, reach deeply past hurt, and tenderly touch the heart of one who longs to feel fellowship in grace.

The first thing I asked for, when I did find my way back, was…"can we sing 'In mercy, in good, how great is our King'…"  Really.  My family looked perplexed, but no one hesitated.  And I will never forget how good it felt to sing it with my family and a few friends that first day.  The joy and warmth I felt as the words poured out of our hearts, over and around me and those I loved…wrapping us in a Comforter of fellowship…was priceless. 

Is there a hymn, a song of praise…a spiritual lullaby you've missed singing lately…

…then sing it!  Don't let anything stop you.

Mary Baker Eddy tells us, in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures that:

"Whatever inspires with wisdom, Truth, or Love —
be it song, sermon, or Science — blesses the human
family with crumbs of comfort from Christ's table,
feeding the hungry and giving living waters to the thirsty."

The song you are singing, may just be what someone else is longing to hear.

And if you happen to be one of those generously wonderful and dear person(s)-behind-the-desk at a Reading Room in the heartland…or in a big city…don't hesitate to get up, go around to the other side of the desk, open the door and talk to the person who doesn't seem to have the courage to come in.  It might just be all the encouragement they need.  And who knows…you may just have someone new to sing hymns of praise with!

With Love,
Kate

"Do one thing each day that scares you..."

"...Close your eyes and visualize
Nothing is impossible for those who try
Just dream to fly as eagles fly across the sky
I know we can...

Hold on when all hope is gone
The race may not be given to the swift or strong
It's given to The ones who can endure flaws
I know we can...

See the rainbow around us all
Hear the angels when they call
Find a way to reach Inside
Just dare to dream…."
-     John Legend

I am learning that, for me, the real goal is not in getting it right, but in facing my fears of failing…of falling on my face, of being seen as ridiculous, foolish, silly, not good enough.

But when you've already fallen on your face, when you, without meaning to, find that you have failed in the eyes of others, you discover that you survive it.  You look up and realize that the fall wasn't as far as it had seemed from the self-centered pedestal you had put yourself on.  And that if falling wasn't all that bad, you might as well try being courageous about things that mattered to you...the things you dream to do, but have never dared.

This is not a post about facing down lions on the African savanna or marching into battle with an opponent. This is a little story about facing a demon within. 

Eleanor Roosevelt once suggested that you, "do one thing each day that scares you."  My friend Randall Williams lives this axiom…actually, so do many of my friends, now that I think about it.  But it was Randall who turned me on to this concept and I am trying, to the best of my ability, to do it.  There are a lot of things that scare me.  I'm whittling away at that list day by day.  Last Sunday was one of those days. 

Saturday night my husband was rehearsing for the Sunday service.  Our "regular" musicians were all out of town and he was on deck.  He asked me if I had any suggestion for the mid-service song, and I recommended one of my favorites…an adaptation of the classic folk hymn "The River is Wide".  He asked me if I would sing it with him and it occurred to me that this would be a great time to face another fear.  We had sung in public before, but never in a congregational circle where all of the eyes would be on us…and especially in an intimate family-like group where our regular soloist has a gloriously beautiful voice and is much-loved for her inspiring vocals.   If singing in public was something I feared, being compared to others was something that terrified me.  So, this would be an opportunity to face two fears, all while serving my worship community.  We practiced the song in a key that worked for me and by 2AM I was feeling a bit more willing to give it a try. 

But by morning God made it clear that He had other things in mind.  I woke up early with the same melody we had practiced the night before singing through my head, but with a whole different set of lyrics.  And these lyrics, were amazing.  They were so perfectly suited to the theme of our worship service.  They felt like a prayer in song from a Poet God.  I got up, headed for my computer, typed them into a blank document, asked my husband to take a look at them, and I then I was stuck.  We were going to be singing the new lyrics.  Only they needed to be tweaked.  I had eight verses, we needed no more than five.  Consolidating eight stanzas into five was going to take some time, but I still needed a shower.  Thank goodness for laptops.

I was in and out of the shower in less than three minutes, grabbed the laptop...and the girls...and we were all in the car and headed to church in less than ten minutes. 

But that meant that I only had the fifteen minute drive to make the changes and there would be no time to practice.  But there was also no time to think about it all...this was a gift of sorts, in and of itself.

The service started, I opened my laptop so that we could read the new lyrics, and before long it was time for us to sing.  My stomach was in a knot, I started to sweat and the one thought I had was "do one thing each day that scares you."  "Okay God," I thought, "I love this little congregation and the fellowship I feel here, so let's go."  I looked across the circle into the warm encouraging smile of a friend and mouthed the word, "pray."  He nodded.   Jeff, with his beautiful tenor voice launched into the first verse and when it was time for me to sing the second verse, I bombed.  I mean I really tanked.  Not only could I not find the note in my key, I couldn't find the note or my key.  I was all over the map, musically, within the first line. 

My heart…and stomach…started to twist, and a voice inside my head said, "you don't have to do this, just let Jeff take if from here."  But in the same moment another voice said, "This isn't about you.  It's about the message.  It's about defeating fear…not your fear…just fear.  Go for it.  You don't have to get it right to have conquered fear, you just have to sing."  So I sang.

I'm glad I did. 

After the service I was concerned that my less than stellar performance interrupted the pure flow of the service.  That's when Jeff asked me a question.  He said, "During the service one of the readers lost his place and had to search for the next Bible citation.  How did that make you feel at the moment?"  I thought about it for a few minutes then answered, "well, it made me feel compassion for him, it made me love our sweet congregation where everyone is just doing their best to contribute in whatever way they can, I felt like we were a family just supporting one another."  "Exactly," he said, "and that's what you gave everyone else, the opportunity to feel compassion, to support you, to feel a sense of family caregiving."  I got it. 

And in that safe space of family, they gave me the opportunity to face down one more fear. 

Daring to dream, daring to face our fears, daring to fail, to expose ourselves in the company of family…and friends…is living a life full of opportunity, full of desire for growth in grace, full of prayer...not failure. 

with Love,
Kate

"When You Believe..."

"Many nights we've prayed
With no proof anyone could hear
In our hearts a hopeful song
We barely understood..."

I was sitting at my desk earlier this week when my daughters came in and one asked, "Mom, why are you watching a cartoon movie?"  "Because, " I countered,  "Mrs. Eddy (Mary Baker Eddy, author of "Science & Health") says, 'Whatever inspires with wisdom, Truth, or Love -- be it song, sermon or Science - blesses the human family with crumbs of comfort from Christ's table, feeding the hungry and giving living waters to the thirsty.'  And today it's all about this song for me," I replied.  "Cool," she said, "so this is how you work?"  "Yup," says I.  "I want to work with you," she said, and sat down in my lap to listen.  Her sister joined us.  So, there we were.  Three spiritual thinkers listening to a cartoon Miriam singing to her cartoon brother Moses about hope, and faith, and miracles.

We listened to it over and over again.  Calls came in from those needing help. I took the calls, we listened...and prayed with the spirit of that song.  It was a precious window on my "office" for these daughters who are usually quite willing to read Scripture with me and pray for their friends who are hurt or sad.

It was also a sweet moment of things "coming full circle."  When the girls were just wee ones, I was in a particularly dark place emotionally.  I felt like I was, as Eddy says, "…walking wearily through the great desert of human hopes…" and not even close to anticipating the promised joy, much less finding it, when DreamWorks released "Prince of Egypt."  Our older daughter and I went to see it in the theatre and I had to excuse myself halfway through Tzipporah's singing of "When You Believe."  As I stood in the hallway of the theatre…just outside the screening room…trying to settle my uncontrollable sobbing, I realized that this was what I wanted more than anything else....her unassailable kind of faith.  I wanted to be just like an animated Miriam striving to let hope be more powerful to me than the looming emptiness of the human landscape.  It didn't matter whether that landscape threatened to be an endless emotional, physical, or economic wilderness. The shifting sands of specificity were nothing to a woman with an unshakeble faith in her God who is All-in-all to her. 

For weeks after leaving the theatre I would find myself aching to hear that song again, and finally went out and bought the soundtrack…and later the DVD when it came out.  But there were very scary scenes depicting the plagues on the DVD…scenes that left our older daughter unsettled and shaken. So the DVD was put away and the soundtrack started accompanying me in the Jeep wherever I went.  Clara & Emma from their carseats behind me, quickly learned the Hebrew chorus phonetically and would sing along in full voice.  Some days, when I was feeling particularly in need of its message of encouragement, I would bundle us all into the car, roll the windows down, turn the volume up and we would drive through the Colorado sunshine singing and crying and praying with our whole hearts, and souls, and voices…for a miracle.

And miracles came.

A healed heart, an answered prayer, a cry heard in the darkest wilderness by a loving Father-Mother God.   These were the simple reminders of His ever-present care, sweet moments when Her guiding hand was felt at the small of my back.

Sitting in my office that morning with the girls…singing this beautiful hymn of hope, and joy, and praise…lifting our hearts, hands, and lives in praise to Him, I could almost hear the voices of my babies singing words in Hebrew they didn't even know they knew, speaking and singing "in tongues." They may not have known the meaning of the words, but they knew the spirit of its message in the depths of their being. Something ancient and eternal speaking to, and singing out from, them.

Today it's all about this song…but then it's always about a song with God and me.

Below are the full lyrics and a link to a video of Michelle Pfeiffer and Sally Dworsky's version of "When You Believe" with Hebrew by Ofra Haza.

It is my prayer of hope for each of us,
Kate
[and if you really want to experience this song "in tongues," treat yourself to this video of "When you Believe" being sung in 28 languages at once...it is so remarkable and feels like a virtual moment of "pentecostal glory"]

"When you Believe"
Many nights we've prayed
With no proof anyone could hear
In our hearts a hopeful song
We barely understood
Now we are not afraid
Although we know there's much to fear
We were moving mountains long
Before we knew we could

There can be miracles
When you believe
Though hope is frail
It's hard to kill
Who knows what miracles
You can achieve
When you believe
Somehow you will
You will when you believe

In this time of fear
When prayer so often proved in vain
Hope seemed like the summer birds
Too swiftly flown away
And now I am standing here
With heart so full I can't explain
Seeking faith and speaking words
I never thought I'd say

There can be miracles
When you believe
Though hope is frail
It's hard to kill
Who knows what miracles
You can achieve
When you believe
Somehow you will
You will when you believe

Ashira l'adonai ki gaoh ga-ah
Ashira l'adonai ki gaoh ga-ah
Mi chamocha baelim adonai
Mi kamocha nedar bakodesh

Nachita v'chas-d'cha am zu ga-alta
Nachita v'chas-d'cha am zu ga-alta
Ashira ashira ashira

Ashira l'adonai ki gaoh ga-ah
Ashira l'adonai ki gaoh ga-ah
Mi chamocha baelim adonai
Mi kamocha nedar bakodesh

Nachita v'chas-d'cha am zu ga-alta
Nachita v'chas-d'cha am zu ga-alta
Ashira ashira ashira

There can be miracles
When you believe
Though hope is frail
It's hard to kill
Who knows what miracles
You can achieve
When you believe
Somehow you will
Now you will
You will when you believe..."
- Stephen Schwartz

"Sing, sing a song..."

"Sing, sing a song
Sing out loud
Sing out strong
Sing of good things, not bad
Sing of happy, not sad

Sing, sing a song
Make it simple to last
Your whole life long
Don't worry that it's not
Good enough for anyone
Else to hear
Just sing, sing a song

La la la la la
La la la la la la..."

Okay, it's time to fess up.  Yes, I love Joni, Dan, James, Jackson, Carly, Bob, Jim…all things folk.  But in high school I was a closet Carpenters fan.  Karen Carpenter and I shared the same vocal range.  Low.  Only she had range…I just had low.  So, I sang her songs constantly while I was walking alone in the woods, mucking out a horse stall, or hanging baskets and baskets of near frozen laundry on the clothesline in the bitterly cold January snow and wind.  Might I sense some personal trauma over having ten people in our family and no clothes dryer??? Not to worry, today I actually miss the scent of stiffly frozen towels in my arms after a long day of drying in the winter sun.

Anyway…once I started teaching elementary school and having children of my own, I learned that the above "Sing a Song" could be called up the moment a fifth grade boy decided to describe some disgusting thing in order to gross out the teacher, me…and any other girl with a weak stomach.  It became a joke in the classroom.  If I jumped to the end of the chorus and started singing "La la la la la…la la la la la la…" at a louder volume than the offending student was talking, it was a cue that I didn't want to hear it.  Or that I would be making a bee-line for the girls' room.

Now I have twin fifth-grade daughters who take great delight in describing yucky, disgusting stuff.  And "La la la la la…la la la la la…" still works when I don't want to hear what Billy Joe Bob did with his peas and carrots in the school dining room. 

It's also good for interrupting any endless loop of thinking that gets a foothold in my thought and won't let go. 

Last week my Bible study was focused on a number of scriptural reminders to "sing a new song."  This intrigued me.  How often do I let an old song play over and over again in my head.  Sometimes it is a seemingly harmless "old song" that I find myself chanting almost mindlessly. A little ditty like, "Why get a headstart on that project…you've always done your best work under the pressure of a deadline" or "of course you're obsessed with getting it right, you're the oldest child in your family."  But sometimes it is not as easy to recognize these songs as particularly negative. The old song…is just old.  It's a perfectly good song, but it's one that has become so comfortable and familiar in my head that I am no longer thinking about what I am singing. Often these are songs that were once prayers, but have become more like a well-worn blankie I curl up with rather than a refreshing new perspective on life, love, purpose…being.

Even these perfectly wonderful old songs sometimes need to be replaced with a "new song."   A  song that wakes you up to who you are today…rather than offering you a look back through the softly filtered lens of the past. Perhaps even back to a time when those old songs came alive…perhaps during a long siege – a health, financial, or personal crisis that was eventually healed…and they were fresh and new and brought needed peace, comfort, hope, and comraderie.  And as wonderful as I felt when I first discovered that version of a song, or learned those particular chords, what I need today is the demand of learning and discovering a something new about myself and my relationship to the laws of  music through a new song.

So today I am trying to remember to really listen to what is "playing" in my head…and in my heart.  To be conscious of what I am singing along with as I go about my day.  Am I replacing the endless loops of "old songs" in my head--some of which may indeed look, sound, and feel like beloved old inspiration…well-worn insights, prayers, or perspectives--with a new song?  I want to learn new words.  And when a loved old song starts to play, I hope I can at least find a new way to sing it.  I am looking forward to fresh inspiration about what the lyrics are trying to say today…instead of congratulating myself on already knowing all the words.

"…Don't worry that it's not
Good enough for anyone
Else to hear
Just sing, sing a song…"

Kate