Monday, November 22, 2010


The weather is luxuriously warm and mild and the sun is playful and dappled like it is in the fall. There are a few trees with leaves on them still and they are rustling as they make their way to the ground, a last tribute to the end of a season. Last year, a little more than one, we were at Sue's funeral and it was the most glorious of fall days. Crimson, gold and  burnished bronze leaves falling and dancing in the street and golden, champagne light serenading us as we cried and mourned and hugged each other. This year again. I'm grateful for the beauty of the days and the temperate moisture in the air that caresses our skin.
Yesterday as we drove through central Tennessee, KB and I opened the windows and reached out to touch the air, and she, of course, had music playing and I felt like we were in a movie. I don't often put music on myself, though I love it, but my children, more adults than kids, have provided a sound track for my life; a combination of noise they produce themselves and find through odd and sundry sources. The sound track of this year has been an odd one- full of lamentation and tears and weariness and little bodies weak with worry but also of growing and change and living, laughter and even joy, and knowing that we are not alone.
At the viewing, Flower and Cub and Graham danced and played and were not at all disturbed by Grandpa's body there. Cold and looking both like Dad and not at all like himself, but from farther away, just like his Dad, my Grandpa Rummel who I loved unabashedly. Flower had picked flowers, of course, and put them at the end of the box to begin with, on my recommendation, but by the end of the evening they had made their way up to Grandpa's chest. Dandelions, simple and small but a beautiful tribute. Like the weather.
Another season closing, closed. I am bereft of my parents, my sister, my family; Kris and I remnants at too young an age.  And yet, not alone at all. Worn from tears and the grief of this season, we are tired, worn, worn out.

But the soundtrack of my life played again, and Jars of Clay captured our hope. KB and I played this going to the funeral and crossing Tennessee.  It will be a different season soon.

Give to the wind your fear
Hope and be undismayed
God hears your sighs and counts your tears
God will lift up, God will lift up, lift up your head

God will lift up your head
God will lift up your head
God will lift up your head
Lift up your head

Leave to His sovereign sway
To choose and to command
Then shall we wandering on His way
Know how wise and how strong
How wise and how strong

God will lift up your head
God will lift up your head
God will lift up your head
Lift up your head

Through waves and clouds and storms, He gently clears the way
Wait because in His time, so shall this night
Soon end in joy, soon end in joy
Soon end in joy, soon end in joy

God will lift up your head
God will lift up your head
God will lift up your head

Play God Will Lift Up Your Head


Deanna said...

Continuing in prayer for you and your family.

Debra said...

Lovely post, beautiful song.
Happy Thanksgiving from my home to yours.
Richest blessings,

Hen Jen said...

I am sorry for your loss.

That jars of clay song was the one I came home to, after we ushered my Father in law into his new life, it was the song I clung to, after seeing such a strong, John Wayne man humbled so low.

God bless you.