Taking Equality to a Whole New Level

It has come to my attention that there is a form of discrimination that has been going on for far too long, with disastrous effects. It has not been broadcast in the media, there have been no marches on Washington, and as far as I know, no one has had any dreams regarding a new equality on this front.

Until now.

Six score years ago, a great European, whose name I do not know, brought us the modern guitar. This momentous development came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of prospective players of the instrument. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the guitar player still is not free. Over one hundred years later, the life of the guitar player is still sadly crippled by the manacles of small hands and the chains of weak hand muscles. Over one hundred years later, the guitar player lives on a lonely island of simple three or four string chords in the midst of a vast ocean of bar chords. Over one hundred years later, the guitar player is still languishing in the corners of American musicality and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

My friend Lindsay began on her guitar playing quest, one that would no doubt lead to fame and fortune, only to discover that her beautiful little hands were too small to manage the G chord. And only this morning, in my attempt to manage a song realized that I do not have strong enough hands to manage a slide from a barred A flat to a barred G.

It would be fatal for the guitars of our nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This winter of the small/weak handed guitar player's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating spring of freedom and equality. Two thousand nine is not an end, but a beginning. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the small/weak handed guitar player is granted his playing rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

I say to you today, my friends, that even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day guitars will rise up and live out the truth: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all hands are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the stages Georgia the sons of small handed people and the sons of large handed people will be able to jam together at the music stand of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the stages of Mississippi, a state laboring under the handicap of weak hands. will be transformed into an oasis of bar chords and slides.

I have a dream today.

Inspiring isn't it?! I'm sure that this dream of mine will send all guitars immediately into sensitivity training, weeping over their discrimination. They will see the error of their ways, and somehow magically transform into a shape (while retaining their original sound and look, of course) that all hand sizes and strengths can play.

Or..... maybe I should just practice more.

Do I Believe this or Don't I?

Recently I have been so blessed in considering the trustworthiness of God. I can trust Him with everything, whether small (like a minor crisis making me late for school) or big (like my future, or, sometimes even more worrisome, the futures of loved ones). It all comes down to a simple matter of faith: do I believe that God is truly in control, or don't I?

I guess I'm kind of having a Renaissance in my soul on the whole issue of applying faith to everyday life. It's so easy to see a problem and instantly start thinking about what should happen or what I can do. But really I need to go straight to God and then see the problem from His perspective.

And I think this is what the Bible is talking about when it says "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee." If I am really keeping my mind on Him I will not get completely bent out of shape if my weekend plans fall through. They fell through? Well so what? Apparently God had something better in mind. Or even if the plans fell through wrongly, didn't God promise to work all things together for good?

Sometimes I want to mull things over, because they seem like they're big enough to warrant mulling. I should feel an amount of depression directly proportional to the magnitude of the disaster. But that's not how God intends me to face life. I am to be abiding in Him, and He is love, and perfect love casts out fear.

I am to live in that "neither know we what to do, but our eyes are on You" kind of way. Looking to Him is what gives me the proper perspective on things.

These things have been percolating in my mind for awhile, and I was so delighted recently when, frustrated to the limit with one of my classes, and on the verge of complaining to a sympathetic source, I felt checked and reminded to pray instead. And what a wonderful day it ended up being.

God knows, He's in control, and He doesn't expect us to carry everything and figure it out for ourselves. We, like children, can simply look trustingly to Him for the answer, with an assurance that He will work everything exactly according to His GOOD will.

I believe it!

Choir Ladies

So I'm starting to really love some of the women I sing with in my community chorus. They are treasures!

First of all, there's Claire, a very elderly woman whose husband passed away last year. We sat next to each other the other week, and she started talking about the travels she and her husband had gone on through the years. They went all over the place! We had a connecting moment talking about how you can feel such a strong connection with the land your forebears came from. Suddenly I realized this was one of those "The Next Fine Day" kindred spirits, and I brought her a copy of the book the next week. This week she told me she had started the book and was really enjoying it. I knew it!

Then there's Mary. I'm pretty sure she has to be a Christian. She has that spirit about her. She was also a teacher for many years! I feel like she understands it all. In our pre-singing backrubs (best part of rehearsals!) she began rubbing my back and exclaimed, "Uh oh! Teacher's back." I was mystified until she explained it was tight. She definitely gets it.

Another of my favorites is Ada. She joked, when I was first meeting her last year, that I could remember her name by the little rhyme "Ada Potatah," which is what they used to call her in school. Sure enough, I've never forgotten her name! She is a little less of the sweet old lady, a little more of the spunky old lady (I don't think she's really all that old, but you know...). She reminds me of one of my very favorite college professors (Curren, Gretchen) so I love her.

And lastly, and one of the best, is... um... I don't remember her name. Hm. Well anyway, I love her! Her husband was a PC grad, so we talk PC every once in awhile. Love that. She's a little tougher of a lady, and doesn't mind rejoicing aloud when the director ends up cutting the rehearsal short. But she's not rude - she doesn't let too many people hear the joy, especially not the director. She is a polished sort of rough, if that makes sense. Anyway, she's down to earth, with a great sense of humor.

Who knew that choir would provide such great people to interact with! I like this island more and more...

Narcissism is a cool word

Thanks, Greeks. Also I like Caligula (as a word, not a person) and Mellifluous (which I heard on sports radio today!).

But back to the title word...

I was reading over past blogs that I've written, and found myself laughing right out loud. I was absolutely killing myself! Hmmm. Of course, one post I laughed especially hard at was one recounting funny things family members had said. But one of those that made me laugh hardest was something I'd said. I guess no one understands my sense of humor as well as I do, so it makes sense I suppose. Still, it struck me as slightly... well... all the words I'm thinking of are too hard on myself, but you get the idea.

And then I realized the other day that every time I hear a horn beep outside my apartment I assume someone is saying hello to me. Me! This despite the fact that there are about 6 other houses in the near vicinity that could be being beeped at, not to mention countless RI drivers who all deserve a good beep now and then.

I guess it's all a result of the Fall - this inward-looking perspective. But it's nice that being so taken up with self keeps me amused and entertained. Another element of the 'felix culpa' I suppose.

Haha - that cracks me up with its ludicrousness! Yup - still laughing at my own sense of humor.

Good grief.

Happy Birthday, Kimberly!

Today is my little sister's 25th birthday! And on this august occasion, I'd like to say that I love her ridiculously much. In fact, I love her in a very special way - a way that is hers alone. She is, after all, the only little sister in the world that is mine! So I love her in this wonderful friend kind of way, but also a protective kind of way... an interesting combination that comes out to something pretty profound.

I'm not sure when the protective thing started. Perhaps it was the time that she was traumatized by a fire alarm in first grade. I was a mighty sixth grader at the time, and was now getting up to my own alarm. Sadly, my alarm went off for the first time the morning after the traumatic fire alarm, and sounded a lot like said fire alarm. I can practically hear her trembling little voice coming from the bunk below me, and I quickly assured her everything was okay, and she should go back to sleep. Maybe that's when it started, or some occasion like that. Or maybe it's just part of being a big sister. All I know is that I want to watch out for her, even now that she's all grown up. She'll always be my little sister.

Yet at the same time, she has become a peer. I so clearly remember one of our first conversations that went beyond just the sister relationship to the friend relationship. We were visiting the Demmes, and had been out on their boat. On the boat ride home, after dark, the two of us sat up in the bow, and talked about life and faith and grown-up things. From that day to this our friendship has only grown. She is so much fun, and I just love doing things with her or being around her. Being home together is one of the happiest things in my life.

And in some ways, she ends up taking care of me. Perhaps she knows a little bit about what it's like to be a big sister, even though she's the youngest:) In any case, she reminds me of things, and helps me keep organized. But more than that, she is coming into a wisdom and maturity all her own. Just a few months ago I called her in a moment of frustration with teaching, and knew that she would listen sympathetically, but also say something that would help me past that hurdle. Sure enough, she did, and I went back into the school (I'd called from my car on my lunch break) ready to take on the afternoon.

So whether she's the baby sister, the friend, or the peer, she is an amazing girl, about whom I could go on and on and on (I haven't even touched on her passion for God, her awesome sense of humor, her sense of adventure, her love for cowboys - heh heh - or a multitude of other things that make her who she is!), and I'm glad to wish her a HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Awed

I was driving along down the road on the way home from doing about a bazillion errands, and glanced down to see the ocean through the trees. Suddenly I was just so happy that I am here - living on an island! How cool is that?

And then, as I was thanking God for letting me be here, I thought about how amazing it is that I'm in this place.

This was one of those things I never could have seen coming. As a little girl thinking about my future I had no idea that such a place as Newport even existed.

And then, when I did become aware of its existence (through the Coronet connection) it was just a really cool tourist-y place.

When my friends and I decided to visit Newport for a day and asked directions to Applebees and traveled over completely unknown roads to get there, I couldn't have possible foreseen that I would travel those roads every single day on the way to school before much longer.

And when I was sitting in my office outside of Dr. Delasanta's. checking out yellowpages.com for Christian Schools in RI, I had no idea of the incredible joy that was in store for me in the school that I would find - the only one needing a high school lit teacher.

And now, here I am, at the best possible school, with the best possible students, in the best possible apartment, in my own beloved New England.

INCREDIBLE!

And it just makes me realize that God leads us even when we don't know we're being led. Yellowpages.com? Really? And here I am... So I don't need to worry about what the future holds. I know God is completely in control, that He will get me to the places I need to be, and that things that happen now will fit me for whatever is coming in the future. He's got it!

Treebeard would have liked me

I love old things. Especially old trees. I'm not usually a sympathizer with leftist ideals, but tree hugging is one I'm growing into.

I've liked them as long as I can remember, but there was a sharp spike on the liking-old-trees chart when one of the maples on the Front Lawn had to be cut down. That tree was a part of my childhood. We played Run Sheep Run and Chipmunks in its shade. It was there that Jenny told me she liked the name "Ransome" (random, but true). One summer evening I sat under that tree playing my guitar in a romantic sort of a mood (romantic like Wordsworth, not like Romeo and Juliet).

Anyway, this summer it had to come down, and I was sad.

And now I have this new reverence for old trees. You can't just go out and plant an old tree. They don't just happen. They have to have been happening for a hundred years or more. And where there is an old tree there is a distinct sense of history and security and character and roots and, well, oldness.

There's a spot near my RI house where there's a row of old trees intermingled with nearly-old ones. It makes me so happy, because I realize that someone else appreciated the existence of old trees, and planted new ones amongst the old so that they could grow up and take the place of the old ones when it was their turn to go.

And that was a source of consolation. At least if old trees have to go, there are people who will plant more trees that will one day be old. At least there is permanence in the cyclical nature of things...

And now, I need to go waste some paper or drive my terrible-gas-mileage car around. I love old trees, but I have a conservative reputation to uphold!