Vince and Patty

I mainly knew Vince Gill as "Amy Grant's second husband" until I watched Ken Burns' Country Music last fall.  

Now I know him as a musician and the writer/performer of one of the most heartfelt songs in country music.  

When Vince learned of the death of country singer Keith Whitley, he started composing a song as a tribute to him.  Vince didn't finish it until the sudden death of his brother Bob in 1993.  

"Go Rest High On That Mountain" is now one of the most requested songs to be played at funerals.  In it, Vince Gill captures the grief, pain, and hope that we experience at the death of a loved one.

He and country singer Patty Loveless played this song in 2013, at George Jones' funeral.  I saw this performance as part of the Country Music series, and I defy anyone to watch this and not come away deeply moved at the very least:

"That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown."

Luke 2:8-14, King James Version:

8 And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

9 And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

10 And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

12 And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
14 Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

"I have no words."

"I have no words."

This has become my go-to phrase when I hear bad or sad news.  Because too often, there ARE no words that are going to express or sum up feelings.  And there are no words that are going to make things better.

Today, I want to tell you how and why I started using that phrase.

It was today, Christmas Eve, 2012, that a friend of mine posted a letter to Santa that his young daughter had written.  He captioned it, "I have no words." 

She'd written that she was sad because her friend from her Bible class had died.  She described her as being "very energetic." 

The little girl she was talking about had been murdered a few days ago.  She was nine, around the same age as my friend's daughter. 

What do you say?  What do you say when a nine-year-old girl has her life stolen from her just days before Christmas?  What do you say to a grieving mother?  To her family?  To the people who knew her and loved her? 

There is nothing you can say. 

There are no words. 

My friend's daughter simply expressed that "she was sad".   She asked for nothing from Santa Claus that year (except for him not to eat and drink in the living room.)

So when my friend found his daughter's letter to Santa and posted it, all he could add was that he had no words. 

For me, that summed it up perfectly. 

He had no words.

And that is why, when people share news of tragedy, I also have no words. 

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

The process of forgiveness

I have debated whether or not to write anything about the Botham Jean case and its aftermath. 

I'm a Southern white woman, and I can't speak to the racism and other things that my brothers and sisters of color have endured over the centuries. I also have never had a family member or close friend murdered.

When Botham Jean was first murdered, I wrote this post in response to it.  I did not closely follow the trial of Amber Guyger, although I did know it was going on.  I was glad that she was found guilty.  I was not glad that she only got ten years. 

I was also amazed when Brandt Jean, Botham's brother, told Amber Guyger he forgave her and hugged her in open court. 

And I also agree that just because Brandt forgave, that does not negate the need for justice.  Forgiveness and justice are not mutually exclusive. One can call for forgiveness, as the Bible does, while working for justice at the same time. 

What crossed my mind after I heard of Brandt's gesture was, "I hope people realize that forgiveness is a process."

I grew up believing that if you forgave someone, it was as if the slate had been wiped clean.  You were supposed to act like the offense never happened, you were supposed to never talk about it again, and you were not supposed to even think about it.  If you did any of those things, it meant you hadn't forgiven.  And the Bible says that if you do not forgive men their sins, God will not forgive yours (Matthew 6:15.) 

But here's the problem:  I couldn't do that. 

I still remembered the hurts done to me.  They still made me angry.  I wanted to forgive, but if I was still thinking about what happened and still angry at what happened, how could I say I forgave? 

Over the years, I've realized that forgiveness is a process.  It cannot be demanded.  It is commanded by God, but we cannot demand that someone forgive and we cannot demand that their forgiveness proceed on our timetable.  If the person is a Christian, we can point them to the Bible, but their decision to forgive, and the process of that forgiveness, is up to them.

One of the most freeing things anyone ever said to me was a counselor I saw in my early '30's, not long after I moved to Atlanta.  I've been in and out of counseling for a very long time (I am currently seeing one now).  The major issue I hit is childhood bullying.  I made a list of people who had bullied me at one time or another up to high school, and I got a list of 40 names. 

The counselor said to me, "You're not ready to forgive yet.  You will, but you're not ready yet."

What a relief to know that I could take my time with forgiving!  It was not that I did not want to forgive.  It was not that I did not refuse outright to forgive.  It was that I was struggling with doing it.  Her statement, "you're not ready to forgive," took the pressure off of me to instantly forgive the people who had hurt me.  And her saying that I would forgive let me know that she had faith in me, that I would do the right thing.

Brandt Jean forgave.  He has chosen the path to release bitterness, to release anger, and to allow God to work.  The anger and the pain over Botham's murder, however, is going to return.  But just because Brandt Jean will feel the pain and anger and hurt over Botham's murder, and just because he will remember what happened, that does not mean that he hasn't forgiven.  It means that the healing power of God will take time to work. 

Today is my 56th birthday.  A few weeks ago, I'd mentioned to my current counselor that it was 50 years since I was first bullied.  She suggested writing a letter (unmailed, of course) to the bullies as a way of letting it go. 

What I chose to do was go to a nearby park, a new one, and pray.  I did two laps around the pond there, and as I walked, I imagined myself dropping small stones on the path as a way of "letting go". 

I've come to the point where I realize that I will be dealing with the consequences of what other people did for the rest of my life.  It makes me angry that that is true.  It's painful and hurtful to realize that I will probably continually battle feelings of anger and hurt over ways I was sinned against.   

What I do not want to do, however, is to carry the burden of things that happened. 

So I released those burdens to God, with full knowledge that I will probably have to repeat the process again . . . and again . . . and again.  That doesn't mean that I have not forgiven.  It means that I have told God, "I desire to forgive and I am turning to you because you can do in me what I cannot do.  You can give me the power to forgive and the power to allow you to handle this person's ultimate judgment."

I hope no one ever gives Brandt Jean the idea that because he spoke the words "I forgive you" and hugged his brother's murderer that it's over, that he will never again deal with the pain and hurt and anger over his brother's murder.  If Brandt ever expresses that he is angry, that he is struggling with forgiveness, I hope no one ever tells him, "Well, you said you forgave her.  Did you really mean it?Have you really forgiven her?"

Preacher and writer Les Ferguson also knows firsthand the struggle of forgiveness.  In October 2011, his son was repeatedly raped by a fellow church member.  The member was arrested, and while out on bail, he murdered Les' wife and son.  The man then drove to his own home and killed himself.

When asked if he had forgiven the man, Les said, "Yes, but I will probably have to do it again next week." 

I will probably have to forgive the bullies again next week. 

Brandt Jean will probably have to forgive Amber Guyger next week. 

But I believe as long as the attitude of our hearts is, "God, you command forgiveness and I want to forgive.  Please do in me what I cannot do," God does understand and he will give us the power to do what we cannot do without him. 

Maybe Brandt Jean will be 56, walking around a pond in a park, and "dropping stones" on a path, praying to God to take the burdens from him.  If he is, I believe God will do it. 

In the meantime, remember that for him, as it is for all of us, forgiving is a process.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Crazy in September

Today is September Day, the day where Earth, Wind, and Fire fans get together and celebrate the song September, the group's 1978 hit song. 

In the first line, lead singer Maurice White asks the question, "Do you remember the 21st night of September?" which is why this is "September Day" for Earth, Wind and Fire fans. 

The song is an upbeat, joyous celebration of a time when "love was changing the minds of pretenders" and how "hearts were ringing in the key that our souls were singing".  An NPR article calls the first line "the one question that can get the whole family on the dance floor." 

Kenny Davis, photographer and blogger, wrote this wonderful tribute to "September" on his blog in a style I can only hope to duplicate someday.  When I told him that I wanted to write like him when I grew up, he said, "No you don't, because you don't want the deranged mind that creates this nonsense."  (I reminded him that all writers are somewhat deranged. :-) ) 

When the song's co-writer, Allee Willis, asked Maurice White, "What does 'ba-de-yah' (in the chorus) mean?  White's answer:  "Who cares?"

Apparently, the majority of fans couldn't have cared less.  The song peaked at number 8 on the Billboard charts in February of 1979.  Allee Willis said that Maurice White taught her her greatest lesson in songwriting:  never let the lyric get in the way of the groove. 

"September" is an original song included on The Best of Earth, Wind and Fire, Vol. 1.  I played that album in heavy rotation on my sister's stereo as a teenager.  (Even then, I had a writing playlist.  I would type on a manual typewriter while listening to a set of albums that would drop, one by one, onto the turntable.  Since vinyl and record players are now making a comeback, I no longer have to explain what a "record player" is.) 

In 2018, "September" landed on the Library of Congress' National Recording Registry as a "culturally, aesthetically, or historically significant recording". 

So, since today was "September Day," I found the video on YouTube and played the song.   I can always use something upbeat and infectious (especially since I need to catch up on dishes, laundry, and other stuff today). 

Afterwards, I sat down at the computer to do some work and do some play (not necessarily in that order) and while on the computer, I watched the latest episode of Ken Burns' "Country Music". 

When I see the name "Ken Burns" on a documentary, I know I am in for a treat, and I have not been disappointed so far with "Country Music". 

The episode I just finished watching ends with the death of Patsy Cline.  She was 30 when she and three other stars of the Grand Old Opry died in a plane crash in March of 1963.  Over photos of her funeral, the soundtrack played her signature song, "Crazy", and the narrator, at the end, said that it was the number one jukebox recording of all time.

And after hearing it, in its entirety, for the first time, I understand why.

It is a heart-wrenching lament for a lost love, a woman who knew she'd lose him but just can't get over him . . . and she knows she's crazy for it.  If you are a person pining for a lost love, this is the go-to song.   

When I finished listening, I wanted to go cry.  And I am not even lamenting a lost love that I know I will never get back, but who I still love.

It, too, is on the Library of Congress' National Recording Registry.

From a song that celebrates the joy of a memory of a night in September, that leaves you wanting to dance on a dance floor . . .

To a song that will leave you weeping on that same dance floor . . .

Yes, today is a "crazy" day in September. 

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Making donuts and selling oil

"Time to make the donuts!"

If you follow me on Facebook, you've probably seen me post that line at one time or another.  A church friend who follows me on Facebook recently asked, "Who do you make donuts for?"

After I finished laughing, I explained, and here's an expanded explanation of what I do when I "make donuts".

I proofread deposition transcripts for civil cases.  I work from home.  The people I work for are a court reporting firm in another state.  Most of the transcripts they send me and that I proof are along the lines of auto accidents, malpractice suits, workman's comp, and the like.  The shortest transcript I've proofed is about nine pages.  The longest has been over 300 pages.  I don't think I've gotten to 400 pages yet.

Because of the nature of the work, most of the assignments I get have a next-day turnaround time.  I often feel like Sam the Baker in this Dunkin' Donuts commercial, especially at the end where he is meeting himself coming and going.  So when I was ready to go to work, I started posting on Facebook, "Time to make the donuts!" 

(In fairness to the people that run the firm I work for, I imagine they often feel like Sam the Baker as well.  And the woman in charge now has infant twins.  She probably feels like she is constantly "making donuts" in a sense.) 

A Facebook friend who has also been in the court reporting industry led me to this job after I talked about the student loan debt I'd run up being in court reporting school.  After I told the person in charge who I was, who'd suggested me, and my school experience, she started sending me work.  I work as an independent contractor and therefore, I get to report my earnings to the IRS every tax year.  (And if I am ever tempted to cheat, there are two things that will stop me:  One, Romans 13:6-7 commands us to pay our taxes.  Two, I am married to an IRS employee.) 

When I get paid, I look at the amount and drool, "Oooh, money!"

Then I think of the student loan debt and groan, "Ohhh, bills." 

Then I remember another Bible verse, Romans 13:8:  "Let no debt remain outstanding." 

And then I go to the Wells Fargo website and pay the bill due. :-) 

In addition to making donuts, there's another metaphor that applies to the work I'm doing right now and why I'm doing it.

In 2 Kings 4, the Bible tells the story of a widow who cried out to the prophet Elisha that her husband's creditor was coming to take her two sons as slaves in payment of a debt he owed. 

Elisha asked, what do you have in your house?

She said, nothing but a small jar of olive oil. 

He told her to ask all her neighbors for empty jars -- a lot of empty jars, not just a few.  She was then to shut the door behind her and her sons, pour oil into all the jars, and set each aside as it was filled. 

She did that.  The oil kept flowing until she was out of jars. 

When she told Elisha what she'd done, he said, go, sell the oil and pay your debts.  You and your sons can live on what is left. 

God has not seen fit to rain down money from heaven.  But he has provided me with a way to "sell oil" and "fill jars".  The "oil" I sell is my skill as a proofreader.  The people I work for gladly fill my jars with work. :-) 

There are other "jars" that get filled due to the people I work for and the work I do.  My "jar" gets filled with money, and then that "jar" gets emptied into the bank account of the United States Department of Education.  (I sometimes think that that jar is more like a bottomless pit, but that may be another blog post for another day.) 

Because people have legal needs, and those needs must be documented, there will always be a cycle of "jars" to be filled:  depositions that generate transcripts, then transcripts that go to scopists (the people that edit them), then edited transcripts that go to proofers, and then proofed transcripts that go back to the lawyers. 

On the days I feel like Sam the Baker, I also try to remember that in a sense, I am a "widow" with "jars full of oil" that I can sell to pay off debts.

So, next time you see me post about "making donuts", not only am I making donuts, I am also filling jars with oil in order to sell.  And for that, I am grateful.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Today sucked . . .

Today sucked for my BFF.

There are no other words to put it that wouldn't cross the line into being obscene. 

Today, her mother-in-law died.  She was 90, had lived a long life, and had been in declining health for the last several years.  My friend has been a faithful caregiver to her.  She had her times when she was tired of the job, when she got frustrated and let off steam; but always, always, she went back and did what she needed to do.  Because she loved her, and part of loving her was caring for her. 

They'd known since Thursday that this might be coming.  My friend's mom in law went back to the hospital after coming home, and little by little, her body just gave out.  My friend and her husband were at the hospital when her mom in law died. 

My friend had barely slept since Thursday, hadn't showered, hadn't changed clothes.  She was not sorry to be there, not sorry to be with her husband and give him the support he desperately needed at that point. 

As I write this, they are back home, trying to get some sleep and trying to prepare for what will be a very difficult week ahead.  The funeral will be next week.  My friend's mom in law will be buried next to her husband. 

Losing a family member is bad enough for a day to suck, even when you know it's coming and you're just waiting for it to happen. 

That's not the entire reason today sucked.

Not only did they lose a mother and mom-in-law, they lost a family pet at the same time. 

Their dog was acting oddly, so my friend's son took him to the vet.  And that's when they discovered that the dog had a bleeding tumor in his abdomen. 

The vet recommended he be put to sleep. 

So he was. 

And this was all happening at the same time.  Not one happening in the morning and one in the evening, but both in the evening, both around the same time. 

It does occur to me that maybe their beagle went to keep my friend's mom in law company. 

But that above sentence is poor comfort when you lose two family members, a human and a dog, in the same day at the same time. 

My friend said she was reminded of Job wanting to curse the day he was born, because she was tempted to curse today. 

I don't blame her.

Today sucked.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.