how great thou art

Teach me a hymn, I entreated one day while we were driving in the car.

A hymn? Drew asked skeptically.

Yes, a hymn. I don't know any, you know.

And I didn't. Well, not unless you count Amazing Grace, which everybody knows anyway, so I don't.

See, I grew up in a church that sang songs more likely to be written by a guy sporting a pony tail and no shoes than anyone who had ever graduated with a masters degree in sacred music. And I love those simple songs we sang. All about hope, redemption, our need for a Savior, and who needs more than three or four chords in one song anyway?

But then I met Drew.

He grew up in a church with hymns. They sang them on Sunday mornings--and Wednesday nights, too, I'd imagine. They had books with notes written on the pages and people who read the notes with the text, singing harmonies because they were reading them and not just because they heard them somewhere in their head.

And it's not like I didn't know about hymns. I would hear them every once in a while and they would haunt me in a wonderful way. At funerals. At weddings. I even learned some in order to sing in my friend's Catholic wedding. And for me, discovering these old songs might be something like discovering your parent's old Beetles albums in the attic. This music that had been moving people for generations had finally reached me and I was entranced by the poetry of the text, glad to be another person to sing this song that had been so deeply worn in by many others before me.

So I started asking Drew to teach me some of those hymns. And though he was a little bewildered by my request at first, pretty soon he got into it too.

The first one he taught me was How Great Thou Art. The imagery in the lyrics is perfect. I loved the thought of connecting what we could see and hear with the wonder of who God is. It made creation personal. Like instead of just reading the newspaper, something that was for the masses, I was reading a letter, an encouraging letter that helped me believe. That helped me have hope.

And pretty soon we were both belting out that hymn in the car. He was holding the melody steady while patiently singing a certain section over and over again at my request so I could get my harmony just right.

And inside I felt a sense of wonder.

And lately, I have been playing this hymn over and over again. Sadly, I've had to trade the car for random closets and basements; Drew for my guitar. And I've also added some lyrics of my own, not because what they were wasn't perfect, but because it's how I am feeling right now, and so it helps.

(lyrics in bold are my own)

Oh Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder

consider all the worlds thy hands have made

I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder

and then I know, my God, how great thou art

I see this world, and what a beautiful mess it is

and then I see the way you gently enter in

You take my heart, you hold all the million pieces

and then, my God, you make me whole again

Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to thee

How great thou art, how great thou art

Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to thee

How great thou art, how great thou art

I look for signs, for some kind of reassurance

and then I see the mountains in the distance

and I believe, I take creation's word for it

for everything I see speaks of a God who makes a difference

Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to thee

How great thou art, how great thou art

Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to thee

How great thou art, how great thou art...

you make everything alright

So here's another song.

And yeah, that new-to-me green sweatshirt is something I have a hard time not wearing lately. I'm like that, you know. Get something new and I want to wear it again. And again and again. A couple weeks ago it was this blue and white plaid shirt that a friend gave to me--I literally wore it three days in a row, had to pack it to go to another city and so forgot about it, but then rediscovered it as I was unpacking and put it right back on again.

But not before I asked my roommates if they remembered this (as I held up my plaid shirt for them to see).

You mean the one you just wore last week for like days and days in a row? they asked.

I took that to mean that yeah, they remembered it.

Anyway, this song is called You Make Everything Alright.

Though maybe that's hyperbole because nobody ever does, you know. Make everything alright. There are some people who come close but even they hurt you sometimes. Still, it's nice to escape into songs about perfection. Because every once in a while, there are moments--glimpses--of just that. And you close your eyes and tell yourself that this, this is finally a really good scene in your story. And you try to build a little house right there because you don't ever want to move from that spot. But eventually the fluidity of life catches up with you; one day you go home to that house you worked so hard to build upon that one perfect moment and see that there is an eviction sign and the people who lived there with you have already taken their things and gone.

And now it's your turn to go too.

And hopefully you'll see them in the next perfect moment.

And you'll try to not to be too surprised to see them in those painful moments too.

Because they'll probably be present in both kinds.

Because it takes all moments to make your story.

But this, this is a sweet song--a happy song.

sometimes I run out of things to say

I am pretty sure that a guitar is maybe my best purchase I have ever made. This includes the recent maternity unitard that actually isn't a maternity unitard that I acquired from Lululemon. And this also includes the shirt I just bought at a thrift store that was so perfect for my Halloween costume that I decided to overlook the fact that it is a maternity XL, pretty much the largest women's shirt I could find, and will simply jerry-rig it to make it work, Tim Gun style.

But the shoes to go with it.

They might not be able to be made to work, sorry to say.

They are a little too tight in the toes and I am just past the point in my career of being a woman where I want to sacrifice foot comfort for vanity. Even costume vanity.

Good thing they were $3.99.

But back to the guitar.

Bear in mind that I am not a guitarist. Not really. I am a pianist who bought a guitar seven or so weeks ago so I could write in my room.

Or in a stairwell.

But I wouldn't mind being a guitarist at some point. It's a beautiful instrument with all those hard curves and the strings and the sound of them sliding between chord changes.

Anyway, this is a song I recently wrote...I don't have a title yet, and it's probably still a work in progress, but here you go anyway. Oh, and (spoiler alert!) I especially like the part at the end when the security guard walks through...