i wish i could write lyrics the way that some people do.
i wish i had the ability to filter the significance of a single moment in time into one line.
maybe i'm uplifting lyricists to a pedestal that is not theirs because i attach emotional significance to words without thought and manufacturing sentiment is part of my daily routine.
but there is something about words and music that gets under your skin, that moves you or make you want to move. the other day i found out that my friend who doesn't like dancing doesn't like dancing because he feels no inclination to move to music; an entirely foreign concept. i am by no means in coordinated command of any of my limbs, but i don't know how your natural inclination isn't just to move at least a little bit to the sound of a beat.
yesterday was wednesday. i started a new job. i went to an evening class. i was out of my house for eleven hours and after being out for eleven hours i came home and cooked dinner and went for a walk. and then i sat on the couch with my housemate and she fed me oreos because that's her way of saying 'i'm here to look after you'. and then i went to sleep.
and every portion of my day had a distinct taste to it. i listened to music most of the time that i was alone. and even when i was around people i had lyrics sitting in my head.
on the way to work, josh pyke's 'forever song' started to play as i walked out of town hall station and down park street. four years ago that was the song that was playing when i logged onto the uac website to check my uai, to see what number would come to represent the year that was my hsc. it was sweet that it played yesterday, kind of God to remind me how far he's brought me. if you had asked me four years ago where i thought i'd be now i probably wouldn't have got any of the details of my current life right. i'm not sure where i thought i would have been, but it certainly wouldn't have been here. i know i've been incredibly blessed though, my life is great. and not in a a stiff upper lip way. genuinely so, where i know i've had bestowed on me all sorts of unnecessarily lovely and easy and fun and sweet things that make life good in a way that is more than objective.
in light of a half day of change and learning new words and acronyms and all sorts of things, i was walking across a footbridge to my evening class and track sixteen started to play from an old mix cd. in a day where a lot had shifted already, it was nice to listen to an old easy sad song about unchanging sentiment.
there's only four seasons, but these feelings are always here.
and then i had class, and it was how class always is. people who are far more enthusiastic about publishing than me talking about publishing. don't get me wrong, i love my degree. i care about what i learn. but the fire in my belly just isn't for class. and i think i spent most of the day yesterday waiting for particular words and trying to be patient for them. and on the way to the train home i got fyfe dangerfield in my ear.
these things are fathomlessly out of our hands.
chopping sweet potato into small enough pieces to cook quickly in a frying pan was then more time consuming than anticipated, but i cooked with lots of butter and that always makes me happy because it makes things taste so good. we had no carbs with dinner and i think that was helpful before going on a walk. there were lots of words then and they played like the lyrics of lots of songs and i realised that it's hard to believe lyrics when you don't believe the tune that they're sung to. so, i sat on the sidewalk outside my building for a long while staring at clouds smeared across a half-mooned, starry sky until i remembered listening earlier in the day to the instrumental 'your hands are cold' because mine actually were. and i finally came inside, resolutely.
and i hold you close in the back of my mind.
my housemate, martha, and i are very different but both very stubborn. so when i sat down on the couch with my cup of tea and she looked at me expectantly for a recount of the day but didn't actually ask me anything, i said i wouldn't say anything unless she asked. and so we were just silent for a time being a a bit annoyed and a bit sad at our difference. eventually she went and got some oreos, the peacemakers, and i talked and she asked. i can't remember which happened first though; we are funny creatures. and i played her a weighty song named after pretty, little, white flowers, and i felt the weight of it. and despite it's weight, even today, i am glad that i am at a point in my life where i am not afraid to fight for the good in people. even if it's hard and costly and sometimes makes you cry.
and then i went to bed, and i prayed for some things and for some people and for the peace of Christ to rule my heart.
and as i prayed for sara, i realised that i really miss her on the other side of the world.
and i fell asleep wondering how she is doing in montenegro.
darling, darling, that dam's gonna give.
and in all the lyrics of a long day, the ones i loved the most were from the last chapter of one john; words from a song whose depth i don't yet know, whose weight i have not fully grasped, whose story is mine. the lyrical reality of scripture, the song that my very kind Lord sings by his word, always makes all the difference. and i read them in the morning and in the evening and on trains and on benches and by the light of my lounge room lamp throughout the day so that their sweetness made my whole day sweeter than it would have been without them.
for this is what love for God is: to keep His commands.
now His commands are not a burden,
because whatever has been born of God conquers the world.
this is the victory that has conquered the world:
our faith.
what a wonderful song.
