Effects of Music

In the cold months, it's hard trying to stay active. It's easy to set goals yet somehow be convinced that it's just not the best day to start the new diet, exercise program, or whatever.

Over the past few months, I've been targeting different areas in my life that I need changing. It's been a few weeks since I've begun cleaning up my diet; time has come to start incorporating some kind of exercise. I've managed to hop on the treadmill for a few minutes a day. A great aid in this goal has been music. I plop the headphones over my ears, plug them into my phone and press play. It seems that music makes my heart rate increase just as much as walking does. Oh wouldn't that be so nice to sit down, play some music and watch yourself get into shape? If only.

Quick digression: headphones are the BEST medium to listen to music. They are suctioned to your ears, cutting out all outside noises and encompass you with music. You not only feel the music, but you feel the instrument, the beat, the notes, the strings, the percussion, the vocals--all of it. It's quite emotional. In fact, it's a little dangerous being on the treadmill at the same time--enactment of the music can't help but come out through your arms and legs flying this way and that, pulling in close to your heart and flinging outward as you lip sink "I give my ALLLLL, to youuu!"



I can't tell you how many times this has happened!

But even when I sit down at the computer to blog or email, I might get a hankering for music. The tv is always on, so adding another noise in the mix is never soothing, only more chaotic. Solution: headphones! I slide them over my ears and get lost in some Kevin Kern, Celtic Thunder, or the like. And most times, I forget that they're up there....

But, back to music. When listening to a new song, I almost always hear the words before the melody. Determining whether I like a song or not, Lyrics trump Melody. It hasn't always been that way, but as I age and the story of the song actually begins to mean something to me, I find I like the song even more because of the words (or not, if I don't like them).

So there I was the other morning, on the treadmill, headphones on, when there came a familiar tune. I almost skipped the song because it's one of those that you wouldn't think you could really "jam" to on a treadmill. It's one of those "inspirationals" that I used to hear all the time--so for me, it's kinda gotten old. But, I hadn't heard it in a while, and it was a different rendition, so I let it play. I forced the original version out of my head and listened to this new one. The soft lyrics began pouring into my ears:

When I am down

and, oh

my soul, so weary;

(At this early moment, my eyes began welling up)

When troubles come

and

my heart burdened be;

(Bawling)

Then, I am still

and

wait here in the silence

 Until you come

and

sit a while with me.

You raise me up,

(My enactment begins!)

so I can stand on mountains;

 You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;

 I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;

You raise me up

To more than I can be.

With headphones, you can hear everything so clearly. You can hear the quiet moments, you feel the building crescendo; the soft and almost silent "s" on the end of words tugs on my heart strings and pushes out of my skin through the hairs on my arm, leaving me with goosebumps. The drums set the beat for my heart while I passionately stomp one foot after the other, truly feeling that I am being raised to more than I really am; that I am standing on mountains seeing this life for what it really is; that I am sitting atop shoulders, raised to see from Another's perspective the little specks we are in the grand scheme of things. And I am no longer feeling weary; no longer burdened, but comforted.  

As the song ended with a blast, a new one began. Engines starting. Engines revving. Suddenly, the keyboard blasts: "bah bu-bah buh!...ba-buh bah bah buh!" The Final Countdown. I could not have planned the sequence any better myself!

Icy Day

Last week, the west pushed some ice our way that stuck for almost a day.

Before the trees from our Oak had a chance to fall, the ice kept them frozen in time.

Treecicles!

Carcicles

The dogs don't think about being cold, wet or dirty. They only think about playing.

 

 

 

One of my favourite views.



 

 

"Love keeps the cold out better than a cloak."

 

At the Crossroads

It was recommended that "Mystery of the Ages" be read every 6 months. I can't truthfully say that I have faithfully followed that recommendation, but my studies have finally led me to it once more. I've only made it through the Authors Statement, Preface, and Introduction, but I already see just why the recommendation! 

Mr. Armstrong briefly mentions a crossroads in his life--a fork in the road. At a crossroads, there isn't just one road anymore, but there also isn't more than 2. Left or right; that's it. As Christ plainly said, "He that is not with me is against me." It's at this crossroad that you see how you have been living, and how you should be living. It's not just seeing that you've been breaking the Sabbath all these years, but you've been breaking every other commandment too! You see that your way of living has been wrong! Yes, you've not only been partially wrong, but you are wrong to the tens! You have been so wrong, that you feel horrid. You feel rank. You feel disgusting. You feel ugly. You feel worthless. And that's when you realize that something can be done
about it! There are, after all, two roads. Two ways of life. Two trees. So there you are, standing at your crossroads, knowing that a conscious decision must be made. It only takes one decision to change the course, but it doesn't stop there. It really means making those decisions for the remainder of your life. God makes it plain that He would rather someone be on fire for Him, or completely against Him. God says those who dabble, those who are half-hearted, those who keep parts of the law but not all of it, those who compromise with the law, "because you are lukewarm and not cold or hot, I will spit you out of My mouth." So, you're either all in, or all out.

 Mr. Armstrong continues in his book:

"I came to realize that accepting God's truth meant

FORSAKING THIS WORLD."...

"This surrender to God...this

GIVING UP OF THE WORLD...WAS THE ONLY MEDICINE

IN ALL MY LIFE THAT EVER BROUGHT A HEALING!...

I was finding

JOY

beyond words in this

TOTAL DEFEAT."

Can it be? Can giving up this world really bring healing? And can there really be joy in this defeat? Mr. Armstrong also said that this surrender and defeat was "the most bitter pill I ever swallowed." So, it will hurt more than anything, but isn't that worth the MOST joy you'll ever experience?

Oh how I miss this book! It's been too long. Don't ever let me wait so long to be reminded of this precious truth, and the decision I made at my own crossroad. I am all in!

Selah...

I was reading an old blog post of mine ("Between a Rock and a Hard Place"), and it really took me back to those same emotions, the same feelings, the same heart rendering prayers, and the very lesson I learned at the time: the lesson of God's very presence in our lives. Simply, that GOD EXISTS.

Not only does God exist, but He makes it known. There are so many prophecies where God says "then you shall know that I am God." God wants our attention--and He will get it; and He might resort to smacking us over the head with a 2 x 4 if that's what it takes.

I can't tell you how many lessons are available to us through this trial. And oh what an opportunity to take hold and learn them! There's always going to be the question: WHY? And the more I think about it, the more I come to the same answer every time: Because I'm building my character in you, My child. I really think it's up to us to decide just how much we will let a trial like this teach us.

Taking the time to reflect on things--on the purpose of anything and everything--is perhaps one major lesson itself: To think. To consider. To ponder. Selah. To meditate on life's purpose. Every time, I'm taken back to the Source of life. The Creator and His plan. What is He doing? "Let all the earth fear the LORD: let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe of Him," says the scripture. He is working and building something so amazing that would take our breath away should we truly understand it.

I've started noticing a pattern in life. There are times when you get a kick in the butt, when you have a sudden stare-in-the-face about what you need to be doing, or about what you need to stop doing, and you cry out to God, with real tears, and in the deepest emotion that you've never experienced before. You repent, and start afresh, believing God has forgiven you and is right by your side in your endeavors to a new and different path that you are finally ready to begin. And life is good because there is nothing sweeter than breaking through to God who showers His tender mercies over you. God just worked a miracle, lifting you from the depths of despair--yes, a miracle because even you couldn't have pulled yourself out. Only God. You have never been more grateful. You praise God. Without God, there is no worth, no value, no purpose for anything. You are on fire. On fire for God. You set new goals, along with your newly molded positive outlook, ready to work for God. Ready to give your life, once again, to God in everything you think, say, and especially do. You are ready to go to extremes for God, even if it means cutting off your right arm or plucking out your eye if they are holding you back. And your prayers, strong, bold, and full of His Holy Spirit are being answered right before your eyes.

You are in awe over God's incredible power that gives you strength and confidence. But what's this? A year later, two years later, whatever your time frame, somehow, life isn't so good anymore. You label it just "one of those" days. Nothing changes. You keep ignoring the "bad" feeling. You keep praying because you are duty bound. You keep studying because you know you're suppose to. You keep the Sabbath and go home feeling inspired. But somehow, the next Sabbath arrives and you don't remember what you were inspired about the week before. You suddenly realize you've been a whole week without prayer. You get on your knees to pray and struggle to find the words, the thoughts...anything? You just don't have free time to schedule a fast, and you excuse yourself because you're not in the right attitude anyway. Meditation? You justify "getting that in" on the drive to services.
You quit praying altogether because it's not effectual. They're not riveting prayers. You want back that strong relationship you had with God, but your prayers are not getting answered and you just can't seem to focus. You sit down to read and you can't even remember the sentence you just read. You stop trying. You take a week and then a month to shake this rut you're in. Suddenly, things seem familiar. You've been here before. You're back in the trenches of desperation. How did this happen? When did it start? The epiphany you need, or the major lesson to learn from it all is not so suddenly revealed just because you see there's a problem. It's only the beginning. And whatever that lesson is (I have found, many times it's the same lesson in times past--only to be understood more deeply), you are taken back to square one: repentance. Back to those real tears. Back to God. Somehow, despite the prayers and studying, the fasting and mediation, despite all your efforts, you got away from God and began relying on yourself; your efforts, your good deeds. You lost sight of God's goodness. Isn't this the lesson of Job? Living righteously, keeping God's commandments--yes, good things, but without the "Who Am I" attitude, it is in vain because it is only a man's effort. When will you learn? "Truly every man at his best state is altogether vanity. Selah." (Psalm 39:5)

God is so merciful and has ways of bringing us back to Him.  It's never as simple as God knocking on your door, or calling your phone to tell you, "here's the problem. Let's work on it." But perhaps all along, God does poke us, and He nudges, pushes, shoves, then finally, smacks us over the head to stop us in our tracks.

Is there one major answer to "why" this trial of ours? I don't know. But I do know, as I mentioned earlier, that there are many things to be gleaned from all this, and all to the glory of God. Selah.

 



One Degree

When two people are dating for marriage, one of the last things they might think about is the thermostat setting for the house. Not like it would be a deal-breaker (unless that's your thing!), but I remember talking about "Expectations" in marriage counseling, and this one never came up...

Everywhere we go, be it a hotel, our old home, even our new home, there is always that one degree difference from being comfortable or uncomfortable. Seriously, it's amazing the difference only one degree makes. Raise the thermostat one degree (75) and Sam starts to sweat profusely. Lower it one degree (74) and I'm walking around in a coat, scarf, and boots.You'd think it was a ten degree difference or something.

Occasionally, I might sneak the temperature up--just the one degree. It's like I keep thinking that one of these days, he won't notice. But so far he's noticed...every time. And I should probably put a stop to it because just last night, when I didn't even touch it he asked, "Have you been messing with the thermostat again!?" When I told him "no," he questioned me with his eyes. Zoiks! Does this mean he's getting hot? If he lowers it another degree, who's to say I won't die of pneumonia when stepping out of the shower? Or catch a cold because my immune system is frozen and unable to fight off those pesky pathogens? Best just give him his one degree and be happy it's not two!

 

Really, you'd think a person's body would adjust after five years. Maybe it'll take six. Until then, I'll grab another blanket, an extra pair of socks, and some gloves. 



 

The Only Constant is Change

...that's how Heraclitus put it anyway. Yet, while the "Weeping Philosopher" was referring to change in the universe, I am referring to our own mini universe here in Tennessee.

Five years of marriage now, and Sam and I are checking off still another "first" from our list: moving.

Sam drove...so I guess that makes me the bald one. :)

For the past several weeks, my mind has been in overdrive dealing with all those things that go along with moving. We had about 4 weeks notice to prepare for the move. In hindsight, that was a little too much time. For four weeks, I would walk through the house making a mental list of what needed to be done. I got some boxes out to get an early start on packing when I realized that there were so many things I couldn't pack because I needed them for the next four weeks. I was carrying around this mental checklist ALL the time! Of all the furniture we moved, that checklist was the heaviest. Sam may disagree--we've got an armoire that's been the cause of many bruises, scratches, and more.

But by the time I was finally able to pack everything, it was actually very liberating to get rid of STUFF that we'd been collecting because, well, you never know, this might come in handy one day; or "I haven't worn this since I bought it, but it's so cute I should wear it!" Most of it was stuff that because we had space in the basement, garage, closet (wherever!) why not keep it? I mean, ya just never know, right.

Instead of hiring movers, we braved the task alone (Bill Withers is ringing in my head right now). When under pressure or frustration, I tend to laugh. I don't know how to explain it, but when things take a turn for the worse, my first phase of release is laughter. This was frustrating for Sam--the scratches I left behind, along with my laughter, wasn't a laughing matter for him. It's almost as bad as cracking jokes while he's lifting 250 lbs of weight at the gym.

It's so nice to be on the other side of moving. We've moved already and almost everything has it's new place. Just the tedious things are left. But overall, I feel my life has been simplified. At any point, should I need to "up and go," I'm not held back by a bunch of stuff.

Instead of a mosquitoes dream for a backyard, we've actually got space to throw a baseball, set up a volleyball net, build a pool, kick the soccer ball around. The dogs love the yard too; they've made themselves right at home, digging holes, finding secret places for their bones, and hiding Mama's shoes under the deck.

And check out my new ride!

It turns out that our neighbor (Pam) was selling her mower because her joints aren't handling all the jolts and bumps very well.

Yes, moving has been quite a change. It feels even the same old routine is different--though it's not. It's been refreshing in a way--waking up in a different room, learning a new route to the bathroom in the dark, new appliances to learn--same results (eventually anyway!) just a new way of getting there. It's also been a great motivator to incorporate those things that for so long I've been meaning to; making certain habits and breaking others. Yes...change is refreshing!

 

"Mommy, is this number 7?"

It was the first day of unleavened bread where I got to see and spend a little time with my sister and her family. I had been holding baby Sebastien for a while, and as he started to doze, it was almost time for the second service. So I laid Sebastien on his blanket where he decided he didn't like it as well as my arm and started to fuss.

Meanwhile, little Jean-Philippe says, "Auntie Sarah, is this number seven?" Hmmm, what could he be talking about? So I said, "no, this isn't the 7th day, but the first day of unleavened bread...so, it's number one." Confused and in disbelief that he could be wrong, he turned to Anna and said, "Mommy! Is this number seven? Or is it number one?" Mommy replied, "yes, this is number seven." Jean-Philippe looked at me. "This is number SEVEN!" Well, what does auntie Sarah know?


I shouldn't have questioned the four year olds' intelligence. I looked to Anna and said, "Mommy? What is he talking about?" Being so close to the start time of the second service, they always play the hymns to send subliminal "time-to-sit-down" messages. As it turns out, the hymn that was being played was you guessed it: number 7! What four year old can tell you the hymn number by just hearing the music? What ADULT could tell you the hymn number? Will Jean-Philippe ever be able to trust his auntie Sarah again? Perhaps after I learn the hymns myself and one-up him...but until then, I'm sure he'll always question the one who thought hymn number seven was number one! I mean, wouldn't you?