Getting Loose

Star Dust

I know that there are a lot of Christians who listen to so-called "religious" radio stations. I have never really cared much for that kind of musical format. But, then, I can also remember over 30 years ago saying the same kind of thing about country and western format stations. At the time, I did not care for them. I’ve changed a little on that score.

I took the Church Lady today to pick up her car, and being as nosey as she is, she immediately proceeded to go through my little stash on CD’s that were out in public view. I’m not sure if she actually said these words, but I at least got to thinking, "You can tell a lot about a person by the kind of music they listen to."

She started going through them like so many cards in a hand. "Well who is this? Liquid Mind? What’s that? Patsy Cline." And then there was a Sam Kennison CD. "You listen to that? What kind of a minister are you?" (That would probably take several posts to figure that out myself) "Dusty Springfield? Who is that?" I put it in and punched in a couple of songs she could identify. And then I dropped her off.  But one of the CD’s I hadn’t listened to in a while was by Nat King Cole. The song in particular that really stirs me deeply is Star Dust—it is one of my absolute, all time favorites. I think the musical score is by Nelson Riddle.

I remember months ago looking up what I could find out about Hoagy Carmichael who wrote it. I listened to a couple of other versions recorded by Frank Sinatra and others back in the 1940's much closer to the time when it was written, but this particular version by Nat King Cole is absolutely haunting. Mitchell Parish wrote the lyrics to this song which are so poetic as to be nearly beyond belief. He also wrote the lyrics to Deep Purple.

And now the purple dusk of twilight time
Steals across the meadows of my heart
High up in the sky the little stars climb
Always reminding me that were apart.
You wander down the lane and far away . . .

Why does that song get to me so? Besides its musical gentility, and lyrical beauty that is deeply disquieting, I suppose it reminds me somewhat of the most painful episode in my life back in 1996. I felt as if I had been excoriated. And one particular evening I was in a base camp up about 6,000 feet in New Mexico. I needed to get away by myself and wandered to a deserted amphitheater, laid down on one of the wooden benches that had no back and stared up into the sky trying to make sense of what had happened in my life. The tears flowed, the stars were like jewels in the sky—there were so many, and their light seemed so close, and my heart was so broken.

Getting Saved

Literally, one of our newest members in the church in the village where I serve is a little old lady whose name is Burnice. I hope I’ve spelled her name right, but then you wouldn’t know if I did or did not, would you?

I do not believe that she is even 5 feet tall, but I love the way she dresses. She often times is sporting a very smart hat that accentuates her silver gray hair. She is spry with a twinkle in her eye, and a sharp mind that picks up on subtle twists of phraseology. I love double entendre, and Burnice gets them all.

Today between services I shot out of my office to go to the main office to pick up a revised draft of my sermon (cut out a paragraph, and eliminated a couple of sentences), and behind me I heard her someone intermittently coughing out in the hallway. I glanced back and it was Mrs. Jones. I was already closer to the office than I was to her. As I continued toward the office I fished around in my coat pocket and bingo I felt a Halls Mentho-Lyptus cough drop still in its sheath. I thought, "Aha!"

I got the sermon and the Prayer of Great Thanksgiving headed back toward the fellowship center which meant I was going to pass right by her in the hall and asked her if she needed a cough drop.

"Oh, I surely do. I thought I had some in my purse and was fishing around—"

I opened my hand, and as if by magic, there appeared a cough drop on my palm.

Exasperated she exclaimed, "Oh, you have saved me!"

I kept walking and thought "Heh . . . and people thought you had to make a confession of faith to get saved . . ."

Ah May Be Sa-Low, but Ahm Shure

Well I’ve been told by a couple of people that I need to update my blog.  And maybe they are right.  It is a lot of fun to read others . . . some I anticipate eagerly to see what the latest issues are, and I don’t stop to think about there being any interest in mine.  And what is so sickening is that I had practically this entire post done, and something in TypePad wiped it all out . . . that is now the third time that has happened to me.

I worked out tonight. Still doing 3 miles in less than 35 minutes. That’s not too shabby, but it is not great I know. Every time I get sick or away from it, that time gets higher and the distance gets lower. There is just no way to store up your fitness. I try to religiously (no pun intended) go to the gymn to work out 3 times a week. I’ve done it three times this week, and am I proud? Well you can just pat me on the back any old time you please.

I’ve been reading the granddaddy of all the blogs. (The New York Times calls him the protoblogger). Dave is the guy who got the entire web logging genre started. He also invented RSS (. . . not sure what it is or does, but I gather it must be really simple . . . )  He’s interesting to read. His blog format is so naked and simple . . . such a contrast from these people who have so many splashes of color and fancy formatting, and bells and whistles.  He loves to rant about his Jewishness, but will also say he is not religious . . . he is liberal out toward the radical end of the spectrum and thinks he is somewhat mainstream, and he is intense with firm opinions. I read him to learn about what I do not have a clue about, namely, this entire weblogging medium. I am still such a neophyte with it all. I can see that reading these blogs you find out about stuff way, way more quickly before it ever gets onto any of the popular mass media. My problem is that I am so clueless about what I am reading from the geeky ones that I have to ask one of our sons to translate it all for me. One case in point is the phenomenon of FriendFeed. I   really   do   not   get   that    at    all.   Nor do I get Twitter.  But then it also took me over a year to begin to grasp about blogging.

I recognize blogging probably has a lot of power and potential that I am not effectively tapping into . . . but then, so does prayer. So maybe I’m guilty on two fronts there. Not to say that I don’t keep plugging away at both (and hopefully the prayer part way more than the blogging part).