Such a puzzling paradox,
this year that began with endings,
with lasts and never-agains.
Like a woman swollen with child,
these nine months have been pregnant with passion and pain, with grace and grief,
all leading up to this confusing birth of inevitable endings and brilliant beginnings.
Such a bittersweet blend of inexpressible joy and unspeakable heartache.
Extraordinary experiences and awesome opportunities,
Like skipping down the Yellow Brick Road and waltzing along the Riverwalk, staring in awe at the Lady of Liberty and joyously singing for the last time on that familiar stage.
These things have taken hold of my heart and impressed themselves on my mind.
Almost simultaneously, though,
Hurt so big and so real has raged,
Burning belligerently with a far-away father, a hurting mother, a broken heart and shattered dreams, struggles against self and sorrow, and a quest to understand that ever-elusive word “leave”,
As if I could simply unearth myself from the people and the places that have planted me, and watered me, and loved me.
And I sometimes wish only to surrender,
to hopelessly and helplessly resign to that whispering lie that this pain will always be.
Yet, words of old ring fresh and true in these wilting, dying ears:
“Through all the tumult and the strife, I hear its music ringing. It sounds an echo in my soul. How can I keep from singing?”
I feel the truth of this, my heart pulsing in inaudible rhythm with the hearts and mouths of those who artfully penned those words so long ago.
How,
how could I ever keep from singing,
how could I stop the music that flows in these veins,
the music that pounds wondrous chords in my ears and in my heart?
Though my song may at times be chaotically colored by notes of hurt, or anger, or bitterness, or despondence, I could never cease singing, for it is part of me,
Or, rather, I am part of it.
Though at times,
it seems I may explode or wilt or perish from the seemingly endless battle inside and out,
my ever faithful companion
through the fickle seasons of this sinner’s soul,
is music.
Even when I doubt His grace,
when like Saul I am overtaken by spirits of evil and rage,
even when a God who lives and loves seems more distant and unforgiving than a past I cannot change,
When nearly nothing else can quiet the tumultuous seas within,
music covers, comforts, captivates, and changes me.
My dear friends,
In the midst of these finales,
find the melodies, the notes singing sorrow and hope;
for you, I, WE have been given songs to sing,
songs to feel and paint and write and dance and live.
When nothing else makes sense,
The Great Composer of Life uses music to speak truth and life in notes too divine and glorious to comprehend.
We must never stop the music, lest we disregard and disconnect ourselves from the symphony He is conducting.
In this moment, let us speak thankfulness, for we have been graciously fostered and cared for by men and women of talent and passion, who allow their songs to be boldly heard and wonderfully enjoyed. To them we owe thanks, our most passionate, ardent love and gratefulness, for they have given to us precious pieces of their lives and have taught us not only to sing the songs on dead pieces of tree,
but to sing in every word and every action.
In words, I could never thank you enough.
Yet,
I pray that as I go forth from this program and this town, the song of my life would reflect the beauty and passion that you have poured into me.
May we honor and remember the ones who have shaped us, but, most magnificently and importantly, may we remember the One who authored all life and all song.
May we never keep from singing.
~written for the 2012 Canyon High School Choir Banquet~
this year that began with endings,
with lasts and never-agains.
Like a woman swollen with child,
these nine months have been pregnant with passion and pain, with grace and grief,
all leading up to this confusing birth of inevitable endings and brilliant beginnings.
Such a bittersweet blend of inexpressible joy and unspeakable heartache.
Extraordinary experiences and awesome opportunities,
Like skipping down the Yellow Brick Road and waltzing along the Riverwalk, staring in awe at the Lady of Liberty and joyously singing for the last time on that familiar stage.
These things have taken hold of my heart and impressed themselves on my mind.
Almost simultaneously, though,
Hurt so big and so real has raged,
Burning belligerently with a far-away father, a hurting mother, a broken heart and shattered dreams, struggles against self and sorrow, and a quest to understand that ever-elusive word “leave”,
As if I could simply unearth myself from the people and the places that have planted me, and watered me, and loved me.
And I sometimes wish only to surrender,
to hopelessly and helplessly resign to that whispering lie that this pain will always be.
Yet, words of old ring fresh and true in these wilting, dying ears:
“Through all the tumult and the strife, I hear its music ringing. It sounds an echo in my soul. How can I keep from singing?”
I feel the truth of this, my heart pulsing in inaudible rhythm with the hearts and mouths of those who artfully penned those words so long ago.
How,
how could I ever keep from singing,
how could I stop the music that flows in these veins,
the music that pounds wondrous chords in my ears and in my heart?
Though my song may at times be chaotically colored by notes of hurt, or anger, or bitterness, or despondence, I could never cease singing, for it is part of me,
Or, rather, I am part of it.
Though at times,
it seems I may explode or wilt or perish from the seemingly endless battle inside and out,
my ever faithful companion
through the fickle seasons of this sinner’s soul,
is music.
Even when I doubt His grace,
when like Saul I am overtaken by spirits of evil and rage,
even when a God who lives and loves seems more distant and unforgiving than a past I cannot change,
When nearly nothing else can quiet the tumultuous seas within,
music covers, comforts, captivates, and changes me.
My dear friends,
In the midst of these finales,
find the melodies, the notes singing sorrow and hope;
for you, I, WE have been given songs to sing,
songs to feel and paint and write and dance and live.
When nothing else makes sense,
The Great Composer of Life uses music to speak truth and life in notes too divine and glorious to comprehend.
We must never stop the music, lest we disregard and disconnect ourselves from the symphony He is conducting.
In this moment, let us speak thankfulness, for we have been graciously fostered and cared for by men and women of talent and passion, who allow their songs to be boldly heard and wonderfully enjoyed. To them we owe thanks, our most passionate, ardent love and gratefulness, for they have given to us precious pieces of their lives and have taught us not only to sing the songs on dead pieces of tree,
but to sing in every word and every action.
In words, I could never thank you enough.
Yet,
I pray that as I go forth from this program and this town, the song of my life would reflect the beauty and passion that you have poured into me.
May we honor and remember the ones who have shaped us, but, most magnificently and importantly, may we remember the One who authored all life and all song.
May we never keep from singing.
~written for the 2012 Canyon High School Choir Banquet~
No comments:
Post a Comment