DebraBee

I felt a chill as I grabbed my things from the car. The clear skies had become gray and cold. I put on my gloves as I walked up into the park. My thoughts were drawn back to the memories of when I had felt most alone. I’d had nowhere to go for the holidays. Having a job and a place to live weren’t enough without relationships that mattered.

Cresting the hill I saw the festive santa hats worn by friends and despite the cold of my body, my heart felt warmed. Milling about were our friends who didn’t have homes or relationships yet. I wasn’t able to travel to see my own family this year but in this environment I knew I was home. I was surrounded by friends sharing coffee, cocoa, a meal and laughter. These were the relationships that mattered.

My eyes felt heavy and I longed for my pillow to lean against the cold glass. Waiting wasn’t my specialty, but it seemed like I’d spent a couple days doing just that as needed. My head leaned up against the cold plastic while I sat in my car with a friend, feeling quiet. I’d been with her the last couple of days for these type of moments, and many others the past couple of months. We hadn’t planned them, they just seemed to come about. Those needing help kept coming into the path of our walking friendship.

I keep looking at these moments with more than a casual glance. They are defining my life as I live it, and the character of my nature as it continues to mature into who I am to become. Also, they define the friendships I want to have. Each of these broken people we come together to help seems to put another rock in the foundation of my life.

“Will you still love me when I’m down and out, in my time of trial, will you stand by me?”

I’d listened to these words multiple times the day before. I hadn’t heard them since I was a teen. The tune was playing in my head and I sought to find it on the internet. Once found, I made use of the “play over” button. Eventually I turned off the feed and forgot about it for the afternoon.

Walking into a house today, the significance hit for why the song was playing for me. It’s so easy for those of us who have family, friends and homes of comfort to forget the “others”. When I say others, I am speaking inclusively of where we ourselves have come from, and those in our family and friends whom we know are in a place of desperation. It still is playing in my heart…..

“Will you still love me when I’m down and out, in my time of trial, will you stand by me?”   *

* Lyrics by Tanya Tucker, Would You Lay With Me

Conversations with the man led me to face a concept I wasn’t comfortable with; feeding a cat who would like nothing more than to eat my face. The way he looks at me, I know he’s merely waiting for an opportunity to make play with my lips and bat my eyes about the room like yarn balls. Time to hold him off for the moment with some of my albacore tuna.

Inwardly I wonder if my survival instinct can be justified as a love offering? Yeah…probably not, so I will have to ask for even greater heart adjustments in this area.

A famous misquote we all know is “music soothes the savage beast” but the accurate truth of the quote is from William Congreve and says, “music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak”.

The truth of music’s ability to be soothing goes back to the time of David, before he took possession of his kingship over Israel. At the time king Saul had been rejected by the Lord as a king for His people, and the Lord chose for Himself, a man after His own heart. Saul became tormented by a spirit of depression, and the only relief he found was when David would come and play his music for him. 1Sa 16:23  After that, whenever the bad depression from God tormented Saul, David got out his harp and played. That would calm Saul down, and he would feel better as the moodiness lifted.

The same effect holds for many of us today. When we have the weight of the world upon us, music blesses us, to lift the heaviness off of our shoulders. Music is a precious gift of God.

Brave warriors are not talked about much today outside of false characters made up for television or movies, yet they exist all around us. Eyes to see them are all that’s required. Our eyes need a salve to see through the counterfeit into reality. A salve offers remedy for that which ails us. We need to clamor for the medicine meant to save us…its called truth and love.

Defined warriors (only in part of course)

– fathers who stand faithful to their family and fight with faith to keep them strong

– mothers who have the metal to intercede relentlessly, no matter what life is throwing at their children

– the friend who won’t share the secret that would gain them favor in the circle of gossip

– the one who doesn’t concede to defeat because that’s what the doctor report says to do

– relentless prayer when nothing seems to be happening

– unfailing faith in the face of failures

Who of us cannot identify with the definition of what it is to be a warrior? “A person engaged in, experienced in, or devoted to war”. Considering the world we live in and that of our friends and families? I’d say we could all be defined as warriors.

Years ago a song hit the airwaves called Voices Carry. The chorus was “hush, hush, even downtown voices carry”. I can’t help but think what an antithesis that chorus was to what we really should have been doing. As Christians we are to be courageous and bold, but somewhere in time we just became hushed about our faith. Fear crept in about offending someone. What would be more offensive though, letting someone keep falling into a pit of despair with our silence, or sharing the good news?

We who have love and hope should be anything but quiet, especially downtown! Our voices are meant to be carried. Even in our most dismal of circumstances, hope in what we say carries.

Act 16:25-26  But about midnight, as Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns of praise to God, and the [other] prisoners were listening to them, Suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the very foundations of the prison were shaken; and at once all the doors were opened and everyone’s shackles were unfastened.

The art of the dance. My Partner leads me with a gentle hand. Instinctually I follow His lead. With each step I am led left to right, both forward and back, but I never forget who’s arms are around me. Face to face I look into the eyes of love.

The pen upon the paper made a scratching sound in the quiet. She knew her words would probably not be read aloud and still she put the effort forth to exhaust her ink’s supply. The room was lit by a sole candle. In the corner window light began to emerge with the rising of the sun. Today she would meet her faith.

Anger hit my heart and I ran face first into the emotion. Injustice had upended me and I was scrambling to get my footing once more without causing casualties. I remembered, “don’t sin by letting anger control you”. Honestly, I wasn’t winning the battle with real beauty. I set myself apart and then I spoke whatever I wanted, which wasn’t eloquent. A couple words should have been left in the gutter where I had learned them to begin with.

A song began filling my ears, “why, why must we fight”….and then I remembered…“the thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy”…a flood of peace came because the rest of that promise was worth fighting for, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full”. More of the song filled my ears …”victory is freedom”.