Otherworldly.
September 21, 2009
My first seventeen years were somewhat exclusively written in Orlando. My stories were all interwoven with the heat and traffic, the crime and commercial zoning. We didn’t vacation much and I really don’t remember ever wondering how other regions of the country (or the world, for that matter) were different. Movies set against the backdrop of the Colorado Rockies or the shores of Maine might as well have been Narnia. Read the rest of this entry »
Benchmark Moments.
July 25, 2009
Sometimes life can so easily blur between days and duties and the details that get us up in the morning. But often it is the little benchmarks along the way that offer us a little bit of “scrapbook-able” distance to see the difference between then and now. Christmas pictures. Journal entries. Distinguished annual events. For me, it is this trip to the Michigan lakehouse. Because this cottage is plopped on a quiet lake in the middle of a miniscule town in the middle of nowhere, you don’t have the easy vacation distractions of tourism, commercialism or any of the other -isms that chip away at creativity and invention. There is silence. And nature. And wonder.
Ten years ago, Read the rest of this entry »
The Market. (2 of 4)
May 22, 2009
One of the transitions of moving from Lynchburg to Nashville is getting used to the common idea of self-proclamation. On every corner is a phone pole stapled to death with posters and flyers advertising concerts, shows and productions. Everyone you meet drops names of whose album they played on or who they toured with. So the theory everyone keeps repeating is that you have to rise to the top by having more money, knowing better people or just yelling louder into the general marketplace. So we all become clowns with flourescent colored clothing and crazy hair, juggling balls and swallowing flaming swords if we might perhaps convince you to listen to our demo or hear our 30-second elevator pitch. Read the rest of this entry »
Remedy For This Heart.
April 1, 2009
Every day I see someone bundled beneath a clump of dirty blankets on the city steps. Every day I see a man crumpled against an old dusty building, trying to sleep off a hangover and a bad life. Every day I see lines at the soup kitchen and lines at the shelter. Lines of grimy fingernails and unkempt hairlines and tattered clothing barely cutting the icy wind. Barely crawling through another day in the city. Read the rest of this entry »
The Day the Music Died.
March 31, 2009
It’s been the best of days. It’s been the worst of days. Sometimes you see the storm on the horizon. Sometimes the lightning strikes your feet before you look up. Today has been that day. Read the rest of this entry »
Broadcast.
March 24, 2009
Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete. John 16:24
(NOTE: I believe in the power of praying God’s words back to Him, so have embedded alot of scripture in this post!)
(NOTE B: bold text is afterthoughts added later)
It’s funny how when things are going well, we are so quick to broadcast our blessings to the world, but when the well dries up, and the doors all seem closed and God’s voice is silent, we follow suit and become silent as well. Read the rest of this entry »
ENFJ.
January 3, 2009
I recently picked a dusty book off my bookshelf that analyzes personality types. At the time I was browsing only for a leisurely skim, not knowing that this small slice of text would revolutionize my self-perception and life-goals. Maybe revolutionize is a tad strong. Mature?
I actually took a personality profile a couple years ago and tested out as a blend of choleric (leadership) and sanguine (social). Both extroverts. But the last couple years since then have dealt some bitter friendships and betrayals, and more recently I find myself standing on the wall at parties. I often curiously stir my drink with a straw as to avoid any unnecessary chit-chat that might lead me to unwittingly sell my sanguine soul to some devil in stilettos. Hmmm. What happened to that girl whose laughter entered the room long before her red shoes hit the welcome mat?
Well, this book was to bring more questions than answers. But perhaps that is what good texts do. I began digging further into the Meyers-Briggs theory, Spiritual Gifts profiling and even Love Languages.
On one hand, I am just interested in people and what makes them tick. (Hey, don’t blame me. It apparently is typical of my personality!) But furthermore, I am at a point personally where I want to live with intentionality. I want to embrace the calling(s) placed in front of me and attack them with a calculated fervor that maximizes my contribution and resources.
I read an article a couple weeks ago titled “The Likability Factor,” which outlined what we should be doing to win people over to ourselves and our causes. I was intrigued by the neatly outlined formula, although a bit dismayed to see how much I was failing at listening, encouraging, helping and supporting other’s dreams and beliefs. When I relayed all of this to Dan, his advice was simple: “You still have to be who you are. And ‘likable’ may not be it.” In his concise, still-waters-run-deep way, he helped me turn a corner in this journey, as well as offering me a comfortable space of unconditional understanding in which to do it.
I think I have spent my entire life trying to be that sweet, best-friend kind of girl. But somehow the red in me always bleeds through the pink, and the road abruptly parts with a loyal friend (rare) or a devoted enemy (often).
Mindy Russ was my first “frenemy.” It was third grade and Mindy always wore dresses. Her nails were often painted soft pink and her genteel blond curls were always held back with a coordinating bow. I wanted to be like Mindy. But it wasn’t long until my worn red tennis shoes sprayed mud on her lacy dress as I raced across the playground to prove something to someone somewhere. And that was the end of our short-lived friendship. And this pattern has continued to define my friendships (or lack thereof).
There was the girl who convinced my teammates to vote me off of captain so she could take my place. (I quit the team and won class president instead.) The girl who erased my name from our group table at Prom in lieu of the girl who would take everyone to Disney the next day. (I chose to gather up all of the Junior class rejects and we formed our own table…warts and all.) The friend who spread a horrible rumor about me around the school so she could win over the guy I was crushing on. (I’ll never forget being confronted by the principal as to its truth.) And the friend who point-blank sold me out because she was “exchanging one friend for three.” Somewhere along that journey, I stopped trying to be sweet and instead developed a drink-stirring habit.
But it was in each of those moments that I was learning to stand on my own two feet. To own the red tennis shoes and be the ring-leader of the Reject Table. And just now – at twenty-eight – I am realizing that my greatest strength may not be likability. But I am a visionary. A creator. An artist. A leader. An advocate. And I am seeing that God has me right here for a reason. And that I won’t move into the next chapter of life until I own the character that He has written me to be…warts and all.
So you can call it what your want. ChlorSanMel. ENFJ. Crazy. But it feels good to sink into the couch of today and absorb whatever takes shape – irrational moodiness or a genius creative burst. A bold assertment spoken too soon or the defense of someone without a voice. A great idea that succeeds or a great idea that fails and empowers someone else to try. No matter what comes, that I can own the cards that God has irrevocably placed in my hand.
I wrote this song as I was navigating this path. Hope it makes you laugh and inspires you to live as you with confidence. Cheers to the Junior Class Rejects! (the recorded version is now posted at our music site!)
Life deals the cards
Some advance and some eliminate.
I am a player.
You may think that you know me
Overlook all my pretention
Just keep the spotlight here on me
Not on you.
You’re the competition
Validate me with your kudos
But from arm’s length you can’t see
The center of attention
Overlook all my pretention
And keep the spotlight right on me
Not on you.
Not on you.
You’re the competition….
Say my name.
Who am I without You?
So take the spotlight off of me
Turning the Corner.
December 3, 2008
We are going to look at houses today. Houses to rent at least. The kids will have to switch schools, but I really, REALLY believe that this is all temporary and that by summer our music will be on the stage. This is just the tight squeeze as we turn the corner.
I don’t think that going back to Lynchburg is an option. We have sacrificed so much to get here, and to go back would be nullifying all of that. Walking away from almost a decade of police work. Liquidating our retirement. Emptying and selling our house. Moving across state lines.
I would forever regret abandoning my dream to return to comfort. It would be like going back to live with my parents in highschool. Yes it may be easy, but there would be a price tag. And I think Dan would feel the same way about going back to the PD. He knew what he was choosing when he handed over his gun and badge, and it was a permanent decision. There are other alternatives to making this work. I can get a temporary no-brainer job. While it is a wash of my other abilities, it may be the only option until people decide that my songs or stories are worth paying for. But the bottom line is that we will do what we have to do so that we can stay in Nashville and follow through on the music.
It’s crazy how there are two different worlds here. When we are with all of the established and elite musicians and industry executives, they are really positive about our music and future. They tell stories of going to lunch with this band and their meetings with so-and-so CEO. It’s like we are within fingers reach of getting the break we need. And they don’t know how much we need it! We have had multiple people whisper of partnering with us, but they’re all waiting to see if we can deliver on stage. It is a whole different world when we are there, where we are confident in what we are doing and pursuing and sacrificing. But it is hard to remember the sights and smells and dreams of the big city when I am confined to this space out in the wilderness.
When I step away from the computer keyboard, I can see that we have been through much more difficult circumstances than this in the last 15 years. But what readers here don’t realize is that back then I just journalled with a pen instead of out here for the world to see. Those times were much darker and thorn-filled. I cried many more tears for the sorrows of those valleys than for where I am at today. But they were kept in God’s bottle. And perhaps those moments were for me to walk alone. But today I am compelled to write and live with my heart spread out on the table in front of me. Perhaps it will help someone else who feels alone in their burden to know that they are not. It only takes one person to take the mask off to release everyone else from the charade. I know that tomorrow is another day and that God is bigger than this. But I am still emotional by breed and a roller coaster by temperament. And I believe that sometimes it is okay to be human and acknowledge how we feel, even if it doesn’t change reality.
If we can hold on a little longer here in Nashville, I believe that there is going to be a dawn just around the corner. Here is an exerpt from my reading yesterday…
There is something to be said for looking at yourself in the mirror and facing who you really are, for better or worse. It is at least a place to start. And maybe when we accept who we are (and aren’t), we can begin to meet others where they are.
If this is what I am called to learn in this place. So that I can fulfill whatever I am called to around the corner. Then so be it. Hope for today. Hope for tomorrow. And so I will walk on.
