Cold Tangerines

In the spirit of our current culture, where everything from a pimple on your hiney to global warming needs to be blamed on somebody, let me say right up front: This is all Shauna Niequist's fault. No, actually it's Tammie's fault, ultimately.

'lemmie 'splain.

For the past few years, our worship team has had the total pleasure (he said, with his sarcasm blaster set on “char”) of attending a mothers retreat at Portage Lake Covenant Bible Camp. Now, understand - there is nothing wrong with that... until you take into account that the instrumentalists in our worship team are all male. Every one of us (except for Courtney, she of the singing violin).

Tammie is Greg's wife. Greg is our drummer. Tammie is one of those who is “in charge” of the Breathe Retreat. And she's part of the worship team. Put it all together, and what do ya got?

I've been to more women's retreats than someone imbibed with a decent amount of testosterone should be subjected to (not to mention a breakfast and fashion show of “frilly things” for plus-size ladies, but that's another story... a long, horrible story... ). And God, who is always up for such things, makes sure that He drops a few bricks on my head during these events. Just to tell me to pay attention. And I'd be happy to - in a manly setting, with manly men being manly together.

Who am I kidding? I wouldn't know what to do in a manly setting with manly men if I tried... When you look up the phrase “girly man” in the dictionary, you'll find my picture there.

So, this past March, God once again used this event to whack me upside the head, in the form of a book called “Cold Tangerines” by Shauna Niequist.

I managed to miss the vast majority of it this year, so I dodged (I'm sure) a few opening volleys. But God made sure that the big one, the massive slam, the big spike, the mamba-slamba-jamba was saved for the very end, in the chapter called “Needle and Thread.” Wherein she encourages those of us who create (and actually, that's ALL of us!) to “keep going.” To continue to do what we do, to create, to make art in whatever medium we are called to. To not let our voices be silent, because they are needed. Art - in words, in paint, in digital bytes, in music, in the symmetry of a well-designed database (VICKI!), or any of the countless ways we create - is necessary. Our stories are necessary. Our voices need to be heard, and we need to hear other voices.

That was the final session of the retreat, and as I said, God saved the big guns for the end. As Shauna was sharing this, Vicki was squirming in her seat, looking at me and nodding the Psychic Friends Smile (“See? I knew you needed this. See? You need to write. See? I told you!”). I don't think it's fair that God keeps using women's retreats to kick my butt - why couldn't He take me to a Whitecaps game, and put a little note up on the scoreboard, like “Yo, lard hiney - GET TO WORK AND WRITE!!” I'd listen to that - really.

“Cold Tangerines” is a good read and definitely worth your time. Shauna writes about celebration in all moments of life, even in the tiniest places, and we need that word everyday. So ladies - grab a copy (no you can't borrow mine - Shauna signed it for me... OK, Vicki asked her to sign it for me. I wasn't going to be caught dead in line to have her sign my book...), and after you've read it (and cried over it, again, and again, and again, ad infinitum, world without end, amen), leave it in the bathroom. It's bright orange, has a friendly picture of tangerines on the cover, and he won't know it's a “chick book” until he's so far into it that he can't stop. Plus, the stories are independent, each one in a short chapter - perfect for... um... those times when one needs a little reading material.

I began admitting that I just might have to do some writing about the time I heard Shauna tell us to “not stop - keep going,” and then found (to my shock) that writing might be one of those things that I “do.” And actually miss if I don't take time for it. And now you know the reason you continue to be subjected to the random, wandering, often tedious ramblings - it's Tammie's fault. And Shauna's fault. Certainly not mine.

The will of God

“My best years in life, I’ve wasted - why would He really even care?
What have I to give that He would find worthwhile?”
“He’ll Do Whatever It Takes” - Phillips, Craig & Dean

I’ve been pondering a bit (which, as Vicki will tell you, is never a good thing...) and I found myself heading down a trail that I hadn’t been down before, and not really liking what I found at the end of it...

Background: My view of the will of God slides a bit from my Baptist upbringing. In childhood, I believed that God’s will was a trip along a razor’s edge or a treacherous path along the side of a mountain. One slip, one misstep, and you’re making that funny little whistle sound the coyote makes before he hits the desert floor with that “thud” and the cloud of dust. So, be careful little feet where you tread, because one false step and you’re headed down. And if you’re really unfortunate, you won’t hit bottom until you land in the hot place no one ever wants to go. (And I don’t mean Nevada... Or Arkansas.)

As I entered my college years and beyond, that view was replaced with the picture of our loving Father, who wants so much for His children to learn, to love Him, and to GROW. Thus, He presents different choices before us. Some of those are huge forks in the road, others little pebbles. True, the decisions we make in some of these places have consequences that are life-changing, and some of them can harm us for the rest of our days. But the concept that once you step “out” of God’s will is more like a bad decision that you have to live with, rather than missing the path and forever being lost in the darkness.

(I’m sure somebody is going to grab the ol’ KJV, head over here, and give this boy a righteous whuppin’. “See here, BOY, you got some learnin’ to do... an’ I’s the one who’s gonna learn ya.”)

I’ve always believed that God has some amazing things to do with me. He’s given me an abundance of abilities, an imagination that never shuts off, and a thirst to use those abilities to give Him glory. (all modesty intended, btw...) But, what if I already stepped off the path? Through years of not controlling my weight, through countless missed opportunities to learn self-control and perseverance, and through my own mule-headedness, what if all that potential He placed in me is now useless? What if, through my own inactivity, my lack of total surrender and my selfishness, I’ve missed the opportunity to fully use everything He designed me to be? And all I’ll ever have in the years that remain is bitterness, never having realized the possibilities that He hinted at when He made me?

Could I already have made that choice or those choices that have so limited what my options are, that the big “thing” that I always thought He made me for will never happen? Or because of my lack of discipline and drive, being unwilling to push for excellence, will I have wasted His good gifts?

This is usually the place where I turn to scripture, unearth some profound truth or reveal some insight that clears things up and brings us to a great resolution. But, not this time. I don’t have a verse, truth or insight to clear this one out. Just questions. So, I guess this one will be continued... hopefully...

The Glory of God

I’m working my way through an online course to help with food and eating issues - OK, actually I just started it today. :-D The first lesson got me thinking about life, the universe, and everything...

All together, now...

“FORTY-TWO!”

(if you didn’t join in with that, no worries - just means that you don’t know the ultimate answer... or the question for that matter)

Why am I trying to lose weight? Hmmm...

1) for health reasons - so that I can move around without wanting to fall over
2) for life reasons - to be around longer for my family and friends
3) for service reasons - to continue to use my gifts for God

Honestly, appearance or vanity never enters into it. I’m not trying to fit into that purple Speedo for beach season (I pause to allow collective retching and ralphing...), or to look better for my next album cover. (in face, you’ll NEVER see my face on any of my covers... there is a pic of me on the back of the Advent CD, but it’s just there for comic relief) The thought of trying to make myself look better for vanity’s sake never really entered my mind. Although it’d be nice to be a sweeter piece of Arm Candy for my honey... :-D

My main motivation is not to “be,” but to “do.” To ride, to live, to travel, to play and write, to create, and to love my beloved. So, is that the right answer?

“Survey says...”

BZZZZZZZ!

I guess not.

Lesson one points to the real reason for this journey - the glory of God. I’ve often quoted that passage that talks about everything we do, being done for God’s glory. But what about who we are? Giving Him glory just by being who He made us? That’s one that I have trouble wrapping my head around. Doesn’t help that my self-image is pretty much compost. I find value in what I do, not who I am. But that’s not the right foundation to start from.

Those of you who are all about the worldview will recognize that flaw right away. A Christian worldview starts with God being at the center, and everything else built upon that. So it’s no surprise that the pursuit of weight loss and heath should focus not on me, but on God and His glory. Glorifying Him by submitting to a program? Yeah, but mostly giving Him glory through His work in me. It’s not what I DO, but what He does - transforming me into the image of Jesus.

“Nevertheless when one turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty. But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as by the Spirit of the Lord.” 2 Corinthians 3:16-18

I’ve never looked in a mirror and said, “God’s glory!” When I look in a mirror, I see flaws, I see scars and marks, wear and tear, and all the little things that go along with getting ready to turn 50. I see eyes that have been lonely, been hurt and disappointed, have failed, suffered, fallen short, and are tired. Just as when I hear a piece of music I wrote or recorded, or look at a piece of jewelry I made, I see the flaws. Just the flaws.

But I should see glory. Transformation “from glory to glory.” The journey moves from a wretched failure, trying one more time to push the boulder uphill, and expecting to have it roll back and flatten me one more time, to a journey from glory to glory, where the effort expended is simply to honor the One who it’s all about. The focus is not on me - if it is, all I’ll see are the flaws and the failure. The focus is on Him, and His strength being made perfect in my weakness. His glory, being revealed in how He’s working in me.

At my last weigh-in, the Behaviorist at Weigh to Wellness said, “when you pull into Arby’s and you’re thinking about what you’re doing there, does God ever enter into those thoughts?” How does your faith apply when you’re waiting to order food that will ultimately kill you?

When the focus shifts to God’s glory, all the thoughts of me and what I want get laid aside. (hopefully - it’s still a battle, and a major re-routing of life patterns) He becomes the focus, not “what does Cal’s spoiled brat inner child want to indulge in?“

This is the stuff that’ll be rattling around in my head today... If you hear a strange noise, that’s probably it. :-D

Alone but not abandoned

Sometimes when one is working through the issues of life, you hit a major point that requires some re-alignment. I’ve never been much for the concept of sorting through one’s past to fix things in the present - I’ve too often seen someone who has been on that journey using it as an excuse for their boorish behavior. “Oh, I can’t help it, because I was _____ as a child.”

Don’t get me wrong - abuses suffered as a child are reprehensible, and the parties responsible for the abuse should be vigorously slapped. (he said, from his lofty perch high above, blind to most of what passes by...) And the pain from abuse is very real and must be dealt with in a caring manner. No, I have a problem when someone uses that as an excuse, proclaiming themselves as a victim. That denies the power of God in being able to heal the past and move us into the future. (again, I’m spending a little too much time in the “everything is black and white” section of the lofty perch seating area... sorry)

So, with that kind of a mindset, you’ll not be surprised to find that I’m reluctant to look at my past as a key to my issues at present. And that went along fine... sort of... until today. The word my counselor used was “abandoned.” Wow. Really? Nah! Really?“

A bit of history would be in order here... My dad left us when I was three, and the reason my Mom told us was that he didn’t want to hurt us anymore. Dad was an alcoholic, never able to conquer it, and decided that rather than work through it, he’d just leave. (I’ve never put it in that way before in all the years I’ve told that story... interesting...) And so, I grew up not knowing him. No visits, no communication, just silence. My brother bore the pain of those years more than me - mom told me of times when he would sit all day, waiting for dad to come and take him fishing, and being disappointed when dad never showed. Or at least I thought my brother was the one hurt - I honestly didn’t remember any of it.

Fast forward to when I was 21... We heard from my dad for the first time I could remember. He was back in Michigan, at his brother’s place, and he was dying. Mom, my brother and I met him there, and I really have no words to describe meeting my dad for the first time I could remember. Mom asked him to come up and spend Thanksgiving with us, prompted by some God-given impulse. And I remember driving right past the house, not wanting to give up my holiday to spend it with this stranger. Spent some time talking with a much younger but far wiser friend, then went home.

At the end of that weekend, two events happened that changed our family’s history. First, dad surrendered to Jesus and became a new creation. Second, mom and dad decided to remarry.

Yes, I sang at my parent’s wedding. And my brother was my dad’s best man. How many of you can say that?

We had dad around for almost two years, until he died. The story we told folks was that he died from complications from the alcoholism. That’s true, in a certain light. But there’s a truth that very few outside of my family know about what really happened. His mind snapped - we know this because he had a cassette recorder running and we could hear him raving - and then my dad bailed on us once again.

He took a rifle, went into the garage, and killed himself.

(once again, I’ve never described it that way, that he bailed on us... interesting)

He would have met Vicki two weeks later - she was coming home to spend part of Christmas break with us, and he was looking forward to spending the holiday with his family and the girl who would become a part of that family. My dad is the one, when hearing me talk about Vicki on the phone (a lot), replied, ”Son, when you’re done shopping, get out of the store.“ Wise words indeed.

Abandoned. Twice in one lifetime by the same person. And I had no idea what that did to me. I always thought that the time God gave me with dad provided closure to my life, an ending to the story at last. And it did, but it also left unseen scars that I wasn’t aware of until today.

I’m a very visual person - to truly learn something, I have to see it as a picture or a pattern. (it amuses Vicki when I remember a phone number by the pattern it makes on the number pad...) When my counselor said ”abandoned,“ the image I got was of the gears and tumblers in a machine (a lock, a mechanism, something like that) turning, all of them spinning and searching for alignment. I saw a splinter, a fracture, a rift that sped through the gears all the way back to their beginning, and the cogs and gears trying to mesh together to close the gap and come back into sync. Some of the flaws I live with at the present end of that machine (if you will) found their connection all the way back to that point, and showed me why they can’t seem to find their place in the whole unit. Some of the things about me that frustrate me, but elude my grasp in trying to deal with them have their roots in that place, flaws in the machine buried so deeply that they weren’t visible - until now.

So, what now? That is a very deep question. I can tell you one thing - you’ll never hear the phrase, ”well, I do that because I was abandoned as a child“ out of my mouth. Or, if you do, you have my full permission to smack me. (Not in the face, please - I have a phobia about being slapped in the face. Just ask Vicki about it...) But I’ll be thinking about that question for some time to come. I’ll probably draw it out, trace some of the fracture lines, and try and make sense of the pattern that emerges, but what to do with it from there?

As my counselor said, it’s time to accept the love of the One who has never abandoned me. I am not an orphan - my Father cares for me, He loves me and He watches over my present as He has watched over my past. The fracture, the chasm, the void can only be filled by Him. He is a Father to the fatherless.

He is my Father.

Now YOU do that VOOdoo that YOU DO so well...

Why do you do what you do?

Simple enough question, right? But it’s not about what you do - it’s why you do it. The question also leaves out any conditioners - “at work,” “for fun,” “on vacation,” and so on. Just the question, without much context. And for many of us, “what you do” becomes a multiple choice thing. We do a lot of do as we do things, and so which do is the do that the question wants to know why you do?

Still with me? Good.

In all of my do-do (*snicker*), I’m going to focus in on playing live. That leaves a lot of unexplored do-do (*snort*), and perhaps it’s better that way. A life with unexplored do-do (*guffaw*) is a life that shows the truth of “ignorance is bliss.”

Anyway, enough of that do-do. (“alright, stop that.”)

Consider what it takes for a performer to go someplace and do their thing... For example, since I just happen to be at one of my favorite coffee houses as I write this, allow me to take a look at what it will take in a few days when I return here to play...

Load the van with various instruments, electronic doodads that need to live in the house, and bodies to head to the gig. Allow one hour for setup, plus travel time.

Arrive at the gig, unload the following:
PA System - 5 pieces, also a mic and stand
Wind controller rig - two pieces plus connections
Stands and tables - three or four pieces
Instruments - 12-15 whistles, perhaps a few recorders, possibly an ocarina and a melodica
Computer and connections
Promo material, CDs for sale

Now put everything in place, in an ever-changing performance configuration

Connect all the devices, including power, setup all the stands, get out all the instruments, boot up the laptop and load the tracks.

Sound check, warm up the instruments, double-check the set list, and work out any issues with the wind controller

Check the cable runs, and tape down any cords that might cause litigation.

Play for at least two hours, with a 5-10 minute break between sets (at the place I’ll play in a few days, I usually play for three hours, sometime without taking any breaks)

Take it all apart, disconnect everything, put away all the instruments, fold down the stands and tables, pack all the cords, disassemble the PA and put everything back in their cases / boxes / bags

Put everything back in the van. Allow at least 20 minutes to take down, although it takes more like 30-45 minutes.

Drive home, unload the stuff that lives in the house

Repeat. Every time you play. Ad infinitum.

Why do you do what you do?

Honestly? Because I need to. I want to. I find that those weeks where I don’t play somewhere, that something seems to be missing. When too much time goes by between gigs, I lose something - my edge, my groove, whatever you might call it. Things aren’t as smooth, the songs aren’t as tight, and it’s just not as good. When I’m playing regularly, it keeps getting easier and better.

And because Vicki likes to hear me play. That’s enough reason right there.

I think this compulsion is common in musicians. We spend so much time in our little rooms or studios, playing our songs to the air around us, developing ideas, practicing material, and polishing it as much as we can. But if it stops there, and the music is never heard, there is something missing. We remain incomplete. The music changes when it’s played live - the reaction of the audience enhances it, clarifies it, refines it. How the music is received determines if that song will ever be heard again. The reaction of those that hear it has an impact on how I feel about that song.

Did you have any idea that an audience has such power over a musician?

Anyone can sit around in their living room, crooning little tunes and playing for fun. But for a performer, that’s never enough. The music is never meant to just sit there - it wants to be heard. The musician wants it to be heard.

Why do you do what you do?

Because God made me this way. He put these gifts in me to reach out, not to draw in. And when I play, I reflect Him. When I’m using the gifts He has given, and when I am doing the things He created me to do, that’s when I shine the brightest. And that’s when I feel the most joy, the most peace, and the most connected to Him.

The music is meant to be heard. When it is heard, it reflects the One who gives it. I do what I do because He made me to. And that’s enough for me.