so sue me

another year and another song

people, i'm getting older. i know, i know--it happens to all of us, but lately i've really been feeling it happen to me. at the same time, i feel so young and foolish. so clumsy. so forward and backward. today on the train, i overheard a woman say, "i've been working there for 19 years now." this blew me away. she has spent the majority of my life at the same job. i've been working inside myself for 27 years now, but the life learning curve is steep.

yesterday, i had some good reflection on the state of my life. things haven't gone quite like i expected, and i'm sure they won't down the road either. i am not sure where i'm headed, but i want to add to the beauty. i want to give more back. i want to give more.

while i reflected, i listened to one song over and over. when i have a bit more time, i'd like to explain why. in the meantime, i'll just say i have designated it the anthem of my 28th year. here are the lyrics:

Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me
by Edward Hopper, 1818-1888

Jesus, Savior, pilot me
Over life's tempestuous sea;
Unknown waves before me roll,
Hiding rock and treacherous shoal.
Chart and compass come from Thee:
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

As a mother stills her child,
Thou canst hush the ocean wild;
Boisterous waves obey Thy will
When Thou say'st to them, "Be still!"
Wondrous Sovereign of the sea,
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

When at last I near the shore,
And the fearful breakers roar
'Twixt me and the peaceful rest,
Then, while leaning on Thy breast,
May I hear Thee say to me,
"Fear not, I will pilot thee."

and here is a vid from the lower lights, from one of the best concerts of my life.

song of the day

this one got me through a long day of work with a head cold.  thanks much, weepies.

presence

my thesis came in the mail last week, and as i sat on the couch looking it over, my jim brother saw me and said, "reading your own book...a little pretentious don't you think?" 
the weird thing is that those essays are like revelations to me--i wasn't reading them because i think they're boss; i was reading them because they keep teaching me things about myself. i feel this strange relief knowing that some of my stories are tethered, like the buoys that anchor the boats in hebgen lake, a still stay against perpetual motion. why, when for so many the world is often still, does the ground always slide under my feet?

i've been in montana, and before i went i was trying to prep myself to appreciate every single second. having a job skyrockets the value of a vacation, and i wanted to make the most of it. unfortunately, my family has this genetic ailment called "unrealistic expectations," and there was basically no way for this trip to measure up, even and especially though it is my favorite place on earth, my most home home these days. the day before i left the cabin, something clicked. "making every moment count" means letting the moments be what they'll be, not forcing them into my idea of what they should be. i was supposed to learn this lesson watching someone die: the moments we beg time to give back aren't the extraordinary ones listed in country songs--they are the most common moments, the ones that we first take for granted. coming home to someone sitting at the kitchen table. cracking up together at mispronounced words. sharing a hymnbook at church.

someday i will drop another anchor and write my story of this place. it won't be sentimental; it will be like The Meadow, an exceptional story of the way land holds on, the way land mixes with family until it becomes a character and you start thinking that turning on to that dirt road must be how coming home to the family of your hope will someday feel.

kingfish preparing his haul at the beach

one of many pictures where the photographer thinks chuch and i are dating

bro and sis trading baby tips

favorite. this is the cabin.

p.s.

america! america!
God shed his grace on thee
and crown thy good
with brotherhood
from sea to shining sea!