Singing Along the Journey
Thoughts about faith and wholeness set to the soundtrack of life

There are years, and then there are years….

I am, frankly, always looking for a better framework to guide me through the days of my life.  Because everything I do is freelance at this point, I don't have the regular boundaries of an office and a work schedule, and, well, sometimes that is a problem for me--particularly when the days are cold and and the darkness comes early.  And, I'm certain that this lack of framework would come as a suprise for some who know me, because, well, when the task is clear and something needs to be completed, there are few as motivated and disciplined as I am. But that is why I'm always on the look…
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One year ago today…

One year ago today, I was baptized at the Calvary Baptist Church in Washington, DC.  I thought about this anniversary all day yesterday -- I can't quite decide whether I should commemorate the anniversary as the third Sunday of Advent, the Sunday of Joy, each year, or whether I should stick to the actual date, which is  today, December 13.  Perhaps I shall just commemorate both from now on, as it is a choice and a date that I will choose to celebrate and remember all my life long. If you want to read again or for the first time about my experience of baptism, you can do so here. …
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Reading ahead…

I find myself, because of another project I am working on, reading ahead in the lectionary texts and commentary (I know, church nerd).  And last night, as I was relaxing and winding down toward sleep in preparation for a big Sunday of Joy, I was reading Isaiah 63:7-9: 7 I will tell of the kindnesses of the LORD,    the deeds for which he is to be praised,    according to all the LORD has done for us— yes, the many good things    he has done for Israel,    according to his compassion and many kindnesses. 8 He said, “Surely they are my people,    children who will be true to me”;    and so…
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I woke up this morning…

...and realized that, if I were to blog every day until the end of the year, I would end 2010 with 100 entries.  As I'm always looking for methods of discipline to spur myself on in my creativity, I think I'll follow that thought.   Okay, some entries may turn out to be, well, less than stunning, as happened during our 30-Day Blogging Challenge earlier this year, but, as a writer, it never hurts to work on the discipline of actually creating sentences and crafting prose.  So, I have decided to write my way out of 2010. As is my custom, I try to use the waning days of one calendar…
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Over my head, I hear music in the air…

The past few months, something has changed. I have been doing something that, really, I haven't done in years. I have been listening to music. You might be saying to yourself right now --WHAT?  Of course she listens to music, she's a musician!  But there is a big difference between listening to music because you need to study or learn something, and, well, just listening to music. Because it pleases you. Because it helps you relax. Because it helps you feel at one with all creation. That kind of music listening, well, that hasn't happened in a very, very long time. My father was a musician, well, a retired musician by…
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I never want to be…

...a music grinder.  Yes, you read correctly -- not an organ grinder, but a music grinder.  This is a descriptive term that has fascinated me ever since I read it in Paul Westermeyer's book, Church Musician, a kind of how-to-be book for musicians who think they might want to be just that, a church musician.  For him, a music grinder is a church musician who just puts out the music, without attachment to the context in the which the music is performed, and without any sense of purpose or participation in the worship of the community in which they make music. It is, sadly, possible, to be a music grinder…
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Standing on the edge…

I've been standing on the edge for the past few days...the edge of space between cultures, the edge of spirit between faiths, the edge of history at a time when the whole world changed (a couple of times).  I just returned from 5 days in Istanbul. Oh, yes, I've heard (and made) the jokes about spending Turkey Day in Turkey.  And frankly, I wasn't really certain about why I wanted to go to Istanbul until I returned home (so typical).  But truth be told, no description, no guide book or digital slide show can tell you the power of  the place.  You just have to be there. How could I know…
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The birth of a radical Christian…

I admit to feeling pensive and internal lately, and, well, more than a little bit weepy.  And, at the same time manic.  I clearly am preparing for something unknown, cleaning, re-arranging furniture, painting, and organizing and planning with all of the obsession of, well, an obsessive.  It is a pattern that I have seen in myself before.  So, when I sat down this last week to do my assignment for Wednesday Night Words (to pick a song that has had meaning for my life and to bring it to share with the group), I found myself making what many would consider an odd choice.  No, no aria from an opera, no…
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O, for the lack of a chair…

Silly, right?  We have lots of chairs in the house. But for me, there is something meaningful about having my own chair, in my own space, where I can read and think and pray.  Maybe it is because I grew up watching the Lesley Ann Warren version of Cinderella on TV each year, and I can still all-too-clearly hear in my mind the strains of her singing "In My Own Little Corner". And I haven't had one for a while.  And, I will admit, I am currently obsessed with changing this situation.  If I have said it once over the past month, I have said it at least 100 times…
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Finding my voice…

Yesterday was, well, kind of a big day.  In the morning, I went to Thomas House again and in the evening I was the designated leader for a discussion at our Wednesday Night Words class on the topic of Music and Social Justice.  I have actively resisted any type of public teaching or instruction role for most of my life.  Yesterday was a lesson in the fact that resistence is, well, as they say on Star Trek, futile.  It is now time for me to work to find this voice.  And I guess that despite my resistance, this process has begun. Now, I will admit, as you may know if…
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