Emergency Lights

 

I went to Lidl yesterday per my normal Sunday morning routine, 

Only the trip wasn’t normal because 

The lights were out! 

As I rounded the corner to go inside, 

I hesitated,

Wondering if they were even open, 

Until I saw the sign that said,

“Lighting issue. We are aware and working on it.”

And so I went in to shop. 

Only the emergency lights were on,

Not the fluorescent overheads that usually light the store, 

And yet there was just enough light to see. 

 

Life is difficult. 

Real people have real problems that are not easily solved 

And the world seems dark: 

Sickness and disease. 

Divorce and single parenting. 

Eating disorders and mental health issues. 

Economic hardship and job insecurity. 

Political and racial tensions. 

Death and dying. 

Being trapped and feeling resentment. 

The darkness is real. 

But so is the light. 

 

It may not be a fluorescent light that makes everything bright, 

But an emergency light is always shining 

And providing just enough light to see. 

A smile. 

A hug.

A cardinal. 

A rainbow. 

A meal paid for in the drive thru. 

A check received in the mail. 

A text. 

A phone call. 

A letter in the mail. 

A visit from a friend.

 

May we be a people aware of lighting issues 

In the lives of those around us, 

And may we work on them

Through our very presence, 

Grounded in emergency light 

And love. 

 

Amen. 

Light

 

I’m coming to realize that one of the reasons I like camp so much is because campgrounds usually have golf carts.

And I like driving golf carts.

 

When I was in college,

And a little more adventurous,

I used to drive the golf cart like a mad woman.

I sped around camp.

I slammed on brakes to make skid marks in the gravel.

I put the golf cart in neutral at the top of the hill and sped to the bottom, racing around curves.

I even drove the golf cart across the street to a bigger hill so that my passengers and I could go  faster!

 

This past weekend,

At age 46,

I carefully drove the golf cart around camp,

Escorting campers to and from events,

Intentionally driving across a field,

Trying to avoid all the many bumps

And not letting the cart get overcrowded with passengers.

 

At one point, I was driving the cart alone at night,

But the cart didn’t have lights,

So it was very dark.

I could barely see where I was going, so

I almost ran into a fence.

Then, I picked up a passenger

Who had a flashlight,

A simple, small flashlight.

She shone the light in front of us, and

Suddenly, we could see.

 

It’s amazing, really.

How one small light can brighten the darkness.  

 

It’s amazing, really,

How one small life can change someone’s world.

 

Amen.

It's God

 

One of the things that Heidi the Librarian and I like to do in Charleston is a Secret Food Tour. We meet our group and guide at a designated location and then visit five lesser-known eateries around the town.

 

In 2022, our guide was a guy who had quite a few ear piercings.  

I don’t remember his name, but I remember talking with him about his piercings and trying to decide which piercing I should get next.

I decided on my second lobe piercing.

 

In 2023, our guide was a girl who had just moved South.

She was a musical theatre person, and she had come to the area for a show.

Before that, she was Shug in the Color Purple in Boston.

I don’t remember her name, but I remember talking with her about The Color Purple and tearing up together as we discussed the deep emotion of the show.

I told her how I’d been taken aback when the actress playing Shug in the 2023 NC Theatre version of the show had to stop singing because she was crying during the finale and the curtain call.

I’d never seen an actor or actress that overwhelmed with genuine emotion,

But it moved me and I told my guide that much.

She understood.

She, herself, had been moved by that same emotion.

It’s the same emotion that I felt watching the movie version of The Color Purple.

It’s hope.

And forgiveness.

And redemption.

And love.

 

It’s God.

 

I think sometimes we want God to move in big ways—

Ways that are obvious and cannot be denied.

 

But I think most times, God moves in small, quiet ways—

Ways that are commonplace and can be reduced to good luck or coincidence if we let them.

 

In the Old Testament, God didn’t speak to Elijah in the storms,

Rather God spoke to Elijah in a whisper.

 

In the New Testament, God didn’t come to earth with fanfare,

Rather God came as a helpless baby.

 

Our food tours in Charleston were just passing tours.

I will never see those guides again.

Yet I will remember them,

Especially the 2023 guide,

Because of the ways they shed light into my life.

 

Dear God: May we see you in the people around us and may we be you to all whom we meet—whether be in passing or whether it be for a lifetime. May we use our voices to whisper love and may we use our resources as hope. Help us to see you in the small things—to rejoice in the goodness that you are, even when life is hard and circumstances far from easy. Open our eyes that we may see and connect our tears as they fall. Amen.  

Truth Be Told

If you haven’t heard this song, or even if you have, then take a few minutes to listen to it now—or at least read its words. It’s “Truth Be Told,” by Matthew West. I think that most of us walk around hearing lies—believing that we’re supposed to have it all together— that we must always be strong—that everybody’s life is perfect except for ours—that being broken is not okay. Even when we know that we’re listening to lies, it’s easy to believe them…and then we end up carrying such huge emotional weights that we feel burdened to the point of exhaustion—every. single. day. The truth is that being honest in a safe place—confessing reality—allowing light to shine on darkness—giving ourselves the time and space to be hurt, angry, sorry, mournful, upset, tired—letting God do God’s work of redemption, even when it’s not immediate—is the only way to “fix it.” Dear friends: I don’t know what lies you’re hearing—what weights your carrying—but I know that I will help you carry them if you trust me enough to help you hold them. I cannot fix you. I cannot guarantee a quick solution to your exhaustion. But I can be a safe place for you if you feel that you have no other place to go. All you have to do is write me, or catch me in the hallway, and I will listen to you and pray for light to begin shining on your darkness. Every day on the morning announcements, my principal ends the announcements by saying “We’re all in this together.” Let’s be in this together, friends. Let’s be those safe spaces where truth-telling is possible. Let’s be God’s hands and heart of Love and redemption in this broken, hurting world…Every. Single. Day. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4wYkS8Z3Io ------ Lie number one: You're supposed to have it all together And when they ask how you're doin', just smile and tell them, "Never better" Lie number two: Everybody's life is perfect except yours So keep your messes and your wounds and your secrets safe with you behind closed doors But truth be told The truth is rarely told, no... I say, "I'm fine, yeah, I'm fine, oh, I'm fine, hey, I'm fine" But I'm not, I'm broken And when it's out of control I say it's under control But it's not and You know it I don't know why it's so hard to admit it When bein' honest is the only way to fix it There's no failure, no fall There's no sin You don't already know So let the truth be told There's a sign on the door, says, "Come as you are" but I doubt it 'Cause if we lived like that was true, every Sunday mornin' pew would be crowded But didn't You say church should look more like a hospital? A safe place for the sick, the sinner and the scarred, and the prodigals, like me But truth be told, the truth is rarely told Oh, am I the only one who says... "I'm fine, yeah, I'm fine, oh, I'm fine, hey, I'm fine" But I'm not, I'm broken And when it's out of control I say it's under control But it's not and You know it I don't know why it's so hard to admit it When bein' honest is the only way to fix it There's no failure, no fall There's no sin You don't already know So let the truth be told Can I really stand here unashamed Knowin' that Your love for me won't change? Oh God, if that's really true Then let the truth be told

There Was Jesus

I have this image in my mind: A mom and dad are fighting. The dad is using his fists as weapons and His words as swords; The mom is cowering in Fear; The children are behind the couch, Hiding. They are curled into balls, Hoping not to be seen— Afraid… When Jesus comes to Sit beside them, Hold them, and Comfort them in A storm of deep rage. Even there, Especially there, In the darkest of times, There was Jesus. I wish I understood why Jesus doesn’t stop the storms of deep rage all together. I wish I understood why evil is so often allowed to prosper. I wish I understood why darkness so often prevails. And yet I don’t. All I know is that somehow— In the midst of it all— There is Jesus. Always. Somehow. There is Jesus. ----- “There Was Jesus” by Zach Williams and Dolly Parton *listen to their version—it’s really awesome* Every time I try to make it on my own Every time I try to stand, I start to fall And all those lonely roads that I have traveled on There was Jesus When the life I built came crashing to the ground When the friends I had were nowhere to be found I couldn't see it then but I can see it now There was Jesus In the waiting, in the searching In the healing, in the hurting Like a blessing buried in the broken pieces Every minute, every moment Where I've been or where I'm going Even when I didn't know it Or couldn't see it There was Jesus For this man who needs amazing kind of grace For forgiveness and a price I couldn't pay I'm not perfect so I thank God every day There was Jesus There was Jesus In the waiting, in the searching In the healing, in the hurting Like a blessing buried in the broken pieces Every minute, every moment Where I've been or where I'm going Even when I didn't know it Or couldn't see it There was Jesus On the mountains In the valleys There was Jesus In the shadows Of the alleys There was Jesus In the fire, in the flood There was Jesus Always is and always was, oh No, I never walk alone Never walk alone You're always there In the waiting, in the searching In the healing, in the hurting Like a blessing buried in the broken pieces Every minute, every moment Where I've been or where I'm going Even when I didn't know it Or couldn't see it There was Jesus There was Jesus There was Jesus There was Jesus

Light Bearers and Torch Snuffers

I went to school to de-personalize my room today. It was kind of depressing—packing up all of the things that make the room comfortable. And it was kind of confusing—trying to figure out what was essential vs. non-essential. I never did figure out the stapler and staple remover. After “work,” I took a load to the thrift store and went to the grocery store. I am the primary errand runner in the family now. I don’t like my mom and dad going out because, well, Covid. When I got home, I was tired and feeling a little…sad. But I had mail! My spirits lifted a bit. Then I opened my mail and my spirits lifted a lot. “Dear Deanna, Enclosed is a small gift from Trinity’s love fund, for each of the teachers affiliated with Trinity. We want to offer our support during this difficult time. Please use this however you see fit. I pray for God’s peace and guidance for you and your loved ones. In Christ, Pastor Ann” Wow. Just. Wow. A simple gesture, but one that means the world to me— A teacher, Thought of, prayed for, and supported because of the work I do, Will do, In a crazy and uncertain world. God, on days that are dreary—literally and figuratively— Thank you for rays of light—tangible and emotional— That brighten the world. Help us to be light-bearers rather than torch snuffers. Always. Amen.

Semicolon Superfan

I went to see Brooke Simpson at church last Sunday. As I spoke to her after the service, she interjected, “I like your earrings.” I said, “Thank you. There’s more to the story, eh? There’s more to come.” “Yes!” she exclaimed. “Yes!...”

A few years ago, I became a semicolon superfan. Until that point in my life, the semicolon was just a grammatical tool used to “separate two independent but related clauses or to replace the comma to separate items in a complicated list.” I was a fan of semicolon and used it often in my writing, but it wasn’t until I heard this that I became a semicolon superfan:

“The semicolon is a symbol used as a message against suicide and other mental health issues and represents choosing to start a new chapter in your life…” (Merriam-Webster)

In 2013, a movement called Project Semicolon began as a movement dedicated to presenting hope and love to those who were struggling with depression, anxiety, suicide, addiction, and self-injury. It was started to encourage, love, and inspire.

The movement chose the semicolon as its central icon because a semicolon is used when an author could've chosen to end his sentence, but didn’t.

The message, then, is that the author is the individual and the sentence is his/her life.

When someone has a tattoo or other form of a semicolon on her body, she is saying that she is choosing to finish the sentence with new life rather than letting depression, anxiety, suicide, addiction, or self-injury defeat her.

She is saying that there is more to the story and that she is choosing to write it. She is saying that there is more to come…

A good friend of mine knew that I was a semicolon superfan and gave me my earrings as a result.

Now, whenever someone sees me, they can know that I am choosing not to let my anxiety/depression defeat me; rather, I am choosing the rest of the story.

Likewise, whenever I see someone with a semicolon, I know that they are choosing the same.

God, may we each hold to the rest of the story and know that you are working with us to write it. Help us to be a people of encouragement, love, and inspiration to those who need it most, and help us to accept encouragement, love, and inspiration from those around us. I love you. And I thank you for the semicolon. Amen.

I Believe In You

Kindergarteners can be space aliens. Sometimes, I look at them wandering around the room, being super silly, completely happy not doing anything I ask, and I think, “I really hope no one comes into this classroom right now because it looks like I have no control over my classroom.” And, well, sometimes it feels as if I don’t.

That happened this afternoon. As the little aliens pushed all my buttons, I took one deep breath after another, trying everything I knew to do to remain calm and teach proper behavior…until…I exploded. And the true irony of it all? I was trying to teach the students about peace while standing in front of them far from peaceful.

…

Earlier today, a student made and gave me a drawing. It says my name and includes the phrase, “I believe in you,” along with the words hope, love, and light. I imagine that he was taking a cue from a piece of art that I have hanging above my desk, but still…I love his drawing…and I want to believe that when he comes to music class, he feels hope, love, and light, and that I believe in him.
…

I’ve been teaching about MLK, Jr. in preparation for the holiday that’s coming on Monday. At the end of his famous “I Have A Dream” speech, MLK referenced the song, “Free At Last.” He said, “…we will speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands in singing the words of the old Negro spiritual, ‘Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty, I’m free at last.” Then he figuratively dropped the mic and walked off stage. Five years later, his tombstone was carved with those same words: Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty, I’m free at last.

…

Friends: There will be times in our lives when we get it right—when we speak words that will be remembered for all of eternity or act in ways that we’re everything we’ve ever wanted to be. But then there will be times when Kindergarten space aliens cross our paths and we can only pray that no one walks in to witness the cacophony.

That’s how life is. It is up and down, push and pull, failure and forgiveness, positive and negative, give and take.

Yet through it all, God is there, offering true peace—extending hope, love, and light—gently whispering, “I believe in you.”

…

Amen.

A Light In Darkness

We didn’t have a teacher’s meeting today.
But I worked late anyway.
Cleaning my room, preparing for tomorrow,
Giving away random gifts.
When I walked into the building at 5:00,
The lights in the hallway were already off and
Some of the doors between buildings were already closed.
As I looked down the dark hallway,
I saw just one light.
Yet that one light literally radiated in the midst of darkness.
Before I could stop myself,
I caught myself thinking:
“That’s what I want my life to be.
A light in darkness.
A place where people are drawn.
A room in which others can clearly see.”

Now, as I write this brief post,
I find myself once again thinking about that light and
expanding the afternoon’s simple prayer:

Dear God,
Let the radiance of your light and love
scatter any gloom in our hearts tonight.
As daylight fills the sky, oh God,
fill each of us with your holy light, and
help us always to follow that light and live in truth.
May our lives mirror your love
whose wisdom has brought us into being,
whose care guides us on our way,
and whose presence restores us.
In you, we are born again as sons and daughters of light.
In you, we have the ability to be witnesses of love in all the world.
In you, we have freedom from desires that belong to darkness.
Fill us with your light.
Fill us with your hope.
Fill us with your peace.
We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
the Prince of Peace and Light of the World,
Now and forever,
Amen.

And amen.

Between The Lines

I’m a really bad dancer. But I appreciate really good dancers. I suppose it’s no wonder, then, that I enjoy watching both Dancing with the Stars and So You Think You Can Dance. I enjoy watching the dancers improve each week and I enjoy seeing the unique musical interpretations of the choreographers. Most of the time, I watch the dances, smile, and casually give my civilian critique. Yet every once in awhile, I watch the dances, cry, and find myself so completely moved by emotion that I can’t say a word. That’s what happened a few years ago when I first saw, “Between The Lines.”

I still remember the package that played before the dance. The choreographer asked the two young dancers to reach into a place that connected with the darkness of addiction. They were challenged to feel very deeply and to put themselves into the emotional space of not being able to overcome that which was controlling them. I remember the male dancer being profoundly impacted by the dance—being pushed to tears by the connection that was so powerful that it radiated from his dancing. And I remember watching the dance in awe—sitting in stunned silence—tears filling my eyes—because I got it—and then I watched it again—and again—and again—because, each time, I got it.

I get wanting to move beyond fears that paralyze…
I get wanting to shake off chains that bind hands behind a wounded back…
I get wanting to break free of the power of negative self-talk…
I get wanting to leave failure behind and walk forward in peace…
Yet having fear, chains, negative self-talk, and failure come from behind and grab hold of me until I can do nothing but stumble forward—or collapse under their weight.

Drugs, alcohol, unhealthy relationships, playing the victim, playing the martyr, disordered eating, cutting, picking, burning, self-harm, gambling, pornography, chocolate, texting, Social Media, money, violence, work, power, sex, control…

It’s all the same yet all so different yet
I get the strange addiction of staying with those things that I know—
even if what I know is slowly killing me.

I get those moments when that strange little monster of everything I hate rears his ugly head,
comes out of hiding, and hijacks all sense and sensibility…

I get those gut-wrenching jolts of human reality that slap me in the face with everything I thought I’d moved beyond and pick me up and leave my legs flying pointlessly in the air…

I get those dark days when all that is hiding between the lines comes out of remission and begins its cancerous quest to take over all that is good and right…

And those days are hard.
Human reality is hard.
Strange little monster moments are hard.
Addictions are hard.
Fear, chains, negative self-talk, and failure screaming are hard.

And sometimes all I can do is pray for God to read between the lines of my broken heart’s prayer: Dear God. I can't. You can. So please, Lord. Have your way. And help me to be all that I cannot. Amen.

A Humorous Moment

Two weeks ago, I was teaching my Monday 2nd graders about the African American spiritual. We talked about the form and meaning of “Free At Last,” and then we wrote a class ‘song’ about our dreams—in spiritual form.

Somewhere along the way, one of my students associated “Free At Last” to Harriet Tubman. He asked something about Tubman and the underground railroad and I told him that if he reminded me when he came to music today then I would play his class a recording of a poem about Harriet Tubman.

Sure enough, shortly after my 2nd grade class came into my room this afternoon, I found myself being reminded that I was supposed to play them a poem about Harriet Tubman. Had I remembered anything about the conversation that had promised a poem presentation? Nope. But did I play his class the poem anyway? Yep. I figured that if a second grader reminded me of something two weeks later, then it must be important to him. So we listened to the poem. And the class liked it. And then we moved on. Away from the spiritual. To Africa. Because 2nd grade has been in Africa in art class for the past couple of weeks, and I wanted to take them there, too.

So we went to South Africa. We watched an elephant drink from a watering hole via live camera feed from South Africa and we found South Africa on the map. We followed the music for the Bantu lullaby “Abiyoyo.” We listened to a folk tale about Abiyoyo. We discussed the characters and plot and setting of the story, and the kids sang the words of the song in their Harnett County Bantu dialects, and we had a really good class.

“Wait. So Harriet Tubman was from Africa?” I heard the above-mentioned student ask as we were preparing to leave class.

“No, sweetheart,” I chuckled, shaking my head, and thinking, ‘Oops. This is what happens when I try to throw something into the lesson really quick.’ “Harriet Tubman was from America. We finished in America and moved to South Africa.”

“Oh,” he said, smiling. “We were just moving so fast!”

I smiled back at him and deep within my heart, and I said a silent prayer of thanksgiving for simple, humorous moments like this that add light to my days.

Helen's Courage

A few years ago, as I was trying to decide whether or not to go swimming at camp, I had the following conversation with a friend: Me: “I don’t always like to go swimming because I can’t see when I take off my glasses.” Friend: “Me either. And when I take my hearing aid out, you might as well call me Helen Keller.” So I did :-). I called her Helen for the rest of the summer and jokingly bought her a copy of “The Story of My Life” by Helen Keller. Surprisingly, she read the book! And she told me that it was a good read.

Fast forward to a few Sundays ago…Patrick was preaching a sermon in which he mentioned Jesus’ ability to move persons from darkness to light—to set persons free from bondage—to give voice to the voiceless. As his example to set up the idea, Patrick shared a bit of Helen Keller’s story—how she, though deaf and blind, was literally given a voice when she learned to read and write. Remembering the simple story from above and feeling totally fascinated by the notion of someone moving from darkness to light, I ordered “The Story of My Life” for myself.

In the week since I began listening to the book, I have watched YouTube videos of Helen’s life, mentioned her in more conversations than should be normal, and been absolutely amazed at her story—her insight, wisdom, intelligence, determination, gratitude, generous spirit, charity, writing, humility, positive attitude, and courage. Other than Jesus, Helen Keller has become the historical figure whom I’d most like to meet should time travel be possible, and her life has moved into a place of inspiration that is not finished inspiring.

It takes courage to set your mind to something at which you could easily fail. It takes courage to open your heart to things that could easily hurt you. It takes courage to face your fears.

For Helen, it took courage to set her mind to learning to sing and speak when she had no point of reference for sound. It took courage to decide to graduate from college when a college degree required taking classes in Greek, Hebrew, French, and German—when English didn’t even come naturally.

For others, it takes courage to:
apologize for speaking hurtful words;
leave a toxic, unhealthy relationship;
do the hard work of facing inner demons;
slowly open and create more space for life;
get out of bed each day;
stay sober;
get married;
have a baby.

I’ve witnessed a lot of courage recently.

I think Helen would be proud.

…

Courage: A Poem
Always know, dear friend, that God’s love and peace are real.
When you don’t have the courage to let go or the stamina to try,
rest in the certainty of God’s strength,
open yourself to the beauty of possibility,
trust in the promise of God’s amazing grace, and
remember that my love for you is real, too.

Love Conquers...

Sometimes things just happen. Such was the case with the harmony part to one of my songs many years ago. To this day, one of my all-time favorite parts of any of my music is the second verse to the song, “Compromised The Truth.” Not only am I drawn to the words, but I’m also drawn to the harmonies that my best friend Angela created as she listened to the song for the first time. In fact, her harmonies were so strong that we decided to include one of the most vulnerable things I’ve ever written on our first CD…and the song was then only one month old.

I was reminded of this song and its harmonies during church yesterday. As my pastor courageously confessed his struggles against fear, he read this text from 1 John 4:18-19:

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because he first loved us.

I immediately began singing the second verse of “Compromised The Truth.”

Patrick went on to share his thoughts that maybe Jesus was afraid that night he served his last supper. Maybe Jesus experienced a deep amount of fear before going to the garden to pray for his friends only to have a friend betray him. Even so, Jesus lay down his life for his friends. Because, well, he loved us. And love conquers fear.

Love conquers fear.
Love overshadows mistakes.
Love extends forgiveness.
Love exudes grace.
And God is…love.

I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life.

I’ve allowed fear to paralyze me. I’ve allowed lies to deceive me. I’ve allowed temptation to sway me. I’ve allowed worry to consume my mind.

I’ve compromised the truth more times than I care to admit.

Yet love still holds me.
And beautiful surprises still emerge.
And life still happens.
Amen and amen.

------

Compromised The Truth
(www.reverbnation.com/deannadeaton)


I taught her how to hide, to turn from the ones she loves
I taught her to enjoy the night and I taught her to fear the light
Oh I taught her how to run and I taught her how to lie
And I taught her how to cry, oh I taught her how to hide

Oh I should have, cause I could have told her differently
Oh I should have, cause I could have shown her differently, yeh
Oh I should have, cause I could have, but I didn’t, no I didn’t
Instead I compromised the truth for me

Well there is no fear in love cause perfect love drives out fear
And perfect love comes from Christ and not the other guy who tries to satisfy
The demands of this world and the needs of the flesh
And the guilt of the soul that keeps us from praying but keeps us saying

Oh I should have, cause I could have told her differently
Oh I should have, cause I could have shown her differently, yeh
Oh I should have, cause I could have, but I didn’t, no I didn’t
Instead I compromised the truth for me

I’m sorry that I compromised the truth
For me

Full, Expanded Circle

I’m looking out over the Winston Salem skyline as I write these words tonight. The sun is setting in the distance with beautiful oranges and purples and reds while the moon is shining bright just over my head. To my right, atop one of the tallest buildings in town, the American flag stands tall, one last reminder to say thank you to a veteran today.

I’ve attended fifteen hours of workshops and seminars over the past two days. The North Carolina Music Educator’s Professional Development has filled my Veteran's Day weekend, yet I’ve observed and learned a lot, and I’m glad for the opportunity to reconnect with old friends and add tools to my music teaching tool belt. My existing tools are still being dusted off after five years of disuse, so it’s nice to have some new ones.

Six years ago, I came to this conference immediately after leading worship with my now defunct band. I stayed until Tuesday and returned to real life to attend whatever class I was taking at the time. During that last conference, my body was here but my mind was not. In fact, I sat in the sessions reading books for divinity school. At that time, I was in the process of deciding whether to continue teaching or whether to pursue full-time ministry, and I had subconsciously begun a spiral downward that would land me in a very dark place in coming months.

After class that Tuesday night, I called a friend whom I often stopped by to visit and was greeted with the phrase, “We don’t know where Kay is.” Within an hour, we were standing at Kay’s house watching rescue workers roll away her body. After getting my band settled that Sunday, Kay, my friend, mentor, and music minister at the church, sick with a stomach virus, had gone home to fight the virus only to have the force of her sickness cause her heart to stop. The next few days were met with grieving, cleaning, planning, preparing for a funeral, and trying to wrap my mind around the fact that my band members and I were the last people to see Kay alive. I think I may have taken off that Wednesday from work.

As I watch darkness settle in tonight, I can’t help but think of the darkness that consumed me for so long after Kay died. I continued with life. I did everything I could not to let it interfere with my work; however, it was a reality I couldn’t shake. Yet just as I am seeing stars, planets, and man-made lights come into view before my eyes tonight, I know that I was surrounded by God’s presence and the presence of people who were light to me when I couldn’t find light within myself.

I stood in line at Starbucks this morning and thought to myself, “This little corner coffee shop is going to make more money in one day than I will make in an entire month.” I bought my food last night and today and thought to myself, “I’m not going to be reimbursed for this even though I’m working.” I listened to a colleague share about the challenges of a forced week of vocal rest. I thought, “She has devoted so much of herself to her job for so long that she has literally damaged her voice.”

For the past two days, during and between conference sessions, I have experienced so many different thoughts and emotions that it’s hard to put them on this page. Yet the overwhelming feelings that surround me right now are feelings of gratefulness and peace.

This is the first year I’ve focused on Veteran’s Day at school. I’m sad to admit that Veteran’s Day is a holiday that I have often overlooked. But not this year. This year I’m very mindful of the role that the men and women of our military play toward keeping our country safe and free and toward helping give dignity to many persons around the world. I’m very mindful of the sacrifices they make when leaving their families and loved ones to answer the call of duty. Teaching at a school where your students, parents, and colleagues are either in or married to someone in the military will open your eyes and shake your core as military planes fly overhead and practice bombs are dropped in the distance. So today I am humbly grateful to people beyond myself…but I am also grateful that life has brought me full-circle while allowing that circle to expand along the way.

Am I back in a profession to which I didn’t expect to return? Yes. Am I making tens of thousands of dollars less than I was? Yes. Do I know all of the latest tricks of the trade? No. Am I the best music teacher in the world? Absolutely not. Am I sad as I remember losing Kay? Yes. Do I curse the darkness that afterwards ensued? No. Could I have stopped it? I don’t think so. Do I regret going to South Carolina? No. Do I know that walking away from teaching for five years was exactly what I needed to do? Yes. Do I know that God has been with me every step of the way? Absolutely. And do I know that where I am right now is exactly where I need to be? Yes. Yes. Absolutely yes.

And so, for now, I am at peace.

Sun completely set. Moon shining even brighter. Flag still standing tall. Knowing that darkness must come for the night…but that joy will come in the morning…and then my students will challenge it :-)…yet everything will be okay.

G-Mama Lights The Way

A few years ago, in preparation for a whole family beach trip, my grandmother, at the height of her QVC shopping days, purchased small lanterns for use by each family member.

For as long as I can remember, my grandmother’s house has been decorated with candles. My sister always enjoyed lighting the candles before family meals…

Until G-mama discovered battery-operated candles. At that point, the wax candles in G-mama’s house, slowly but surely, were replaced by battery-operated candles that light with a button rather than a flame. During the replacement process, the battery-operated candle movement moved its way into the rest of the family and now many of our houses are lit by candles that won’t burn down the house…

They won’t burn down a campsite either.

We should know. G-mama’s light sources lit the way for us to set up camp at Stone Mountain on Friday night.

I can’t remember the exact numbers, but I think that G-mama showed up on our campsite through two small lanterns, one battery-operated candle, one jar candle, and three taper candles. Griffin and I had to change the battery-operated candle so that it could light my little tent. But it worked with new batteries and was super helpful when I crawled into bed each night…and when I heard rain pouring down on Saturday night and had to rig a little curtain out of a Nemo sheet because I hadn’t put the rain guard over my door before going to sleep.

The small lanterns helped us change the batteries in the above candle as well as the big lantern whose batteries were dying.

But it was the jar candle and taper candles that proved most helpful—a jar candle that was really ugly because it had once been melted and taper candles that were old and partially burned but had been abandoned. Naturally, my sister didn’t pack candlesticks. Who packs candlesticks for camping? So we made our own. Out of plastic water bottles.

With a little bit of water to anchor the bottle, the plastic water bottle served as the perfect camping candlestick. And when the candle burned down, it dropped through the bottle opening, landed in the water, and the flame extinguished. Or maybe the flame extinguished before hitting the water. I don’t know. I wasn’t watching. All I know is that the candle was burning one moment and it was safely out the next. Which was really neat. And I know that just one candle provided enough light to penetrate the darkness.

After Amelia and I returned from our first trip to the potty on Friday, my sister asked us if the bathhouse was very far. Amelia responded, “No. We were talking the whole time.” While her answer was very cute and heartwarming—and a testament to her extraverted nature—it wasn’t completely correct. Our campsite was a few minutes away from the bathhouse—not somewhere you’d want to venture to in the middle of the night. But it was easy to find on that last night-time trip to running water and electricity because of…the bright light of the taper candle.

It was a beacon to a campsite full of love and laughter and light…provided by G-mama.