Remember the beginnings!!!

I'm in the process of starting to fill out applications, potentially send resumes, it seems the closure of spring break is propelling me forward to action, movement... I pulled out my application essay I wrote last spring for the school of worship and smiled at my almost triumphant attempt to keep it at 200 words...how one does that AND explains their testimony, life goals, and how new life fits into that is beyond me! But just to remind myself and share...here it is....

Last summer, a girl shared why she switched her major, "My pastor told me his father discouraged him from preaching, saying he should only preach if absolutely necessary. My pastor realized that not preaching was like losing the ability to breathe.  I chose physics because I was good at it, I left it for music because I wanted to breathe again."

Her words resonated in me, planting hopes that God was calling me to worship leading.  Last fall led me to a church plant, and to become the Interim Worship Leader at its launch in March.  The past four months have stretched me as a leader, musician, and worshipper.  But it has also birthed in me a hunger to learn more; how to be a more humble leader and a stronger servant.

I love Jesus. I have since middle school when a guy showed up with a guitar, overhead lyrics, and an invitation to come alive to the gospel.

I love people. Their stories, loves, hurts, and laughter.

I love that music can connect people with God.

I am now confident that God has called me to lead worship, but I also feel He has called me to a time of preparation and learning. At New Life School of Worship, I can build the foundation of musical, technical, and theological knowledge I need, to be a leader of integrity and excellence.  My prayer is that God would use the next year at the School of Worship, to light a fire and passion in me, a burning desire to know Him more, and to lead people into His presence.   

These thoughts still echo is me...I am so thankful for this year to "ferociously devour Jesus", as the wise David Perkins says.... we are in the home stretch, but I feel the need to press in, dig a bit deeper, and love a little bit harder....who wants the good-byes to be easy? :o)

Oh the Memories

It's all so bittersweet...

Frozen Dead Guy Days!!!!!!

This post was completely forgotten about in the midst of finals and spring break craziness... what a travesty!

My newest mission for my time here: to bear witness to the oddities and strangeness that have made Colorado the amazing state that it is. So last fall when I got my coveted library card, and read in a book about a festival centered around a cryogenically frozen man in Nederland outside of Boulder....I waited with gleeful anticipation for March's arrival.

Nederland is what is called by one local, "nedervoid...the closet you can get to the twilight zone." It is a tiny town fifteen miles outside of Boulder, up 3,000 feet of curvy mountain road, and its residents are a fine mix of hippies and miners, and any other eccentric personalities.  Crystal, one of my ever faithful travel buddies, found us some floor arrangements up in Fort Collins, and we spent the weekend between Nederland, Boulder, and Fort Collins.

It seemed important to attend the opening ceremonies because I mean, come on, what could they even do during opening ceremonies in a small town centering a festival around a frozen dead guy? Well, not much apparently, but they did make a big show of shutting down the town's only roundabout and having the mayor of Nederland break a bottle of champagne over a fifteen foot carved statue. And then glory of all glory, the Nederland High School Skeletonettes urged us all to move a few feet back, pulled out a battery operated CD player, and regaled us for six minutes of jam packed dance moves that repetitively made me think of zombies walking around....and just as quickly, it was over and we were inside a local art shop trying to regain feeling in our noses and toes from the bitter, biting cold. We skipped the 70's theme dead ball and headed up to Fort Collins to meet up with Crystal's brother and friends for the remainder of the night.

Saturday we were back to see the parade of hearses, many of which were the same from the coffin races I went to in Manitou back in October, but when you stop to think about it, how many hearses can the state of Colorado even have?

There were a ton of people around and it was devastatingly windy, so much so that we had to abandon plans in the later afternoon to walk around.... in addition to being so cold, the wind kicked up dirt and you ended up standing frozen in position waiting for it to subside...no fun!

And while we didn't pay the $30 bucks to take a tour up to the tin shed where Grandpa Bredo is kept on dry ice...we did pop into Dog Video to watch the first documentary made in the 90's.  Turns out a lot of my original information was wrong, the real story centers around Bredo's grandson, Trig, who was hoping to open a cryogenics facility in Nederland, but had only begun by shipping his grandfather's body and the body of another man, Al Campbell to this mountain town, before he himself was deported back to Norway.  Upon discovery, Campbell was immediately shipped to Chicago for burial, but the fate of Bredo went to court and somehow even though a law was passed prohibiting the storage of bodies in one's home, Grandpa was in effect, "grandfathered" in.

Abandoning plans late afternoon to continue trekking across the small town, we headed in to Boulder and made sure to drive by a few roadsideamerica.com sites... this is the house used in outside shots in the old television show, Mork and Mindy:

And these are fish windows....which would be pretty cool if they weren't full of algae and you could actually see fish through them, but they have a cool sign, in theory are neat themselves, and are along a pathway that runs the length of the creek/river/waterway.

Our last night staying in Fort Collins, we stayed with Crystal's longtime friend Julie and her husband, Sam.  Sam and I spent some time playing music and singing together, while Julie and Crystal caught up over dishes....my favorite way to aid in chores! But before we had settled in for the night, I was introduced to the new craze of a frozen yogurt bar! Quite delightful and with a friend managing a new one in the Springs...it may become a regular staple...:o)

Never fear friends, I have joked and prodded people about cryogenics ever since my return from Nederland, "It's all about maintaining the form so when they figure out how to revive function...." but I think for me, the good ole ground will be good enough when the day comes... and the good people of Nederland have quite adopted Grandpa Bredo now, as one man in the documentary put it, "I'm fine with him being up there as long as he doesn't come down here and knock on my door, or bother my dogs." My heart is content.

A Little Different Spring Break Than Planned

I guess the safest way to describe my spring break is that it was...errr...unusual. I flew back into Colorado Springs late last night and groggily made it to classes this morning.  The last module for the school of worship. I looked at the kid beside me and said, "what classes do we have today?"

But I can neither say that my spring break was horrible or amazingly terrific. It was adventurous and God-filled, educating, and a deeply bonding experience with family. The first weekend I was home, Grandpa Cox passed away.  We knew it would be coming, just not as soon as it did. So I jumped right in with my dad making the arrangements, picking out caskets, planning the funeral, comforting the mourning souls of Grandpa's small community.

Here's the truth: I do grieve my grandpa's passing, I will miss him this July 4th, a time we would normally see him.  I will miss his awkward political comments and his voice singing bluegrass hymns. But Grandpa held a lot of himself back from us. We only saw parts of who he was. He never stayed long to visit and we were lucky if we saw him twice a year. He didn't know how to be with us. He spent his entire life being manipulated and used by the people around him, and we never required anything from him, but himself. I think it unnerved him a bit.

In a lot of ways, he was a foolish, ornery man, but he was Grandpa, and when he came, we loved him.  He taught us how to play poker on the picnic table in our back yard, he often took us to the playground and out for slurpees at 7-11, and told the same jokes over and over again.  He introduced me to the guitar and keyboard and gave to me the gift of music.  I will always be grateful for that.

I looked at my dad in the middle of all the arranging last weekend and said, "Can I sing at his funeral?" My dad simply answered, "Honey, we can do whatever we want." We rocked out his funeral service this past weekend down in Grundy, with a full bluegrass band, a hellfire and damnation preacher, and the sharing of stories.  The weekend was marred by some money grabbing relatives laying claim to what little money Grandpa had which was supposed to pay for the funeral, but our foolish lovely man, kept some foolish company, so what else can we really expect?  I had fun playing my first bluegrass music, with the fine Tommy Taylor on the harmonica beside me telling me the whole time, "You hang in there girl."  He needed to hear those words more than I did...:o)

We buried Grandpa back up in Northern Virginia at a military cemetery, Quantico. Dad had talked to Grandpa before he passed on, being a veteran of the "Koran Conflict" as the official obituary stated (wrong on so many levels!), it was a cost free option for burial.  And the service at Quantico was beautiful, brief, and to the point. Most importantly, while down in Grundy we were among a large number of strangers, back home we were among family and friends.  Many of Dad's closet friends came to support him, and I am so proud of the man my Dad is. He bravely and graciously led our family through a difficult week, and remained humble and open through the loss of his own father.  I spent a lot of time with him and the rest of the family, and I am forever amazed by how hard times only strengthen us, only draw us closer.

So now I'm back in Colorado, finally feeling the weight and adrenaline of the last week wear off and a deep weariness settle in... and a longing to be back among the mountains of Virginia tug at my heart.  It's hard regardless to leave family, but even more so when I know what a help I could be....but for 10 beautiful weeks I am in the Springs, ready to play, love, and learn, knowing that God's timing is perfect and we all need "Just a Closer Walk With Thee."

My Grandpa

I've wrestled with how to write this post...to share just a bit of the journey this past week... so I'll just include an excerpt from an email I sent to the school of worship telling them I'll be returning late from spring break...

Hey, just wanted to let you know my grandpa passed away Saturday night. I've been in the no internet land of southwest virginia making the arrangements the past couple of days. We are planning to have a service there for family and friends this upcoming Saturday night and then his burial on Monday at a military cemetery in Northern Va.  I'm not sure of my final plans yet, but I won't be flying back to Colorado until after the burial Monday or Tuesday.

But I also wanted to share that God has been prepping my heart for this before I even came to New Life. I really felt last summer that I needed to see my Grandpa one more time before I left, and he ended up coming to visit over the 4th of July holiday. My last memory of him is my grandpa playing old country tunes and hymns with my two year old nephew sitting next to him eating cake.  I found out this past Thursday before I got on the plane to come home that Grandpa had been diagnosed with lung cancer and was going into hospice.  He was brought back to VA from a hospital in Tennessee on Saturday. I was at a church two and a half hours away, talking to them about possibly coming for a summer camp and planned to go see my Grandpa on Sunday to say goodbye.  God told me pretty directly on Saturday that his timing is perfect, which didn't make sense until my dad called me that night with the news.  I was close enough in distance to drive down to be with my dad to make all the arrangements, and shielded from having my last memory be one of pain and sadness.  I have met waitresses at the local Shoney's and neighbors and a few relatives that loved my grandpa so much and heard a few stories. Not many people knew we were there and the news was only starting to make its way around. When I think of all the other weeks and times this could have happened, to have happened when I was not only home, but so close...God's timing is perfect.

Prayers are awesome, but please don't be concerned, we are celebrating the life of a guy who loved Jesus, music, and all the crazy people we've been meeting. It's pretty awesome.  I'll let you know more definitely when I am getting back next week.

 

 

My heart is full....overflowing with gratitude for God, family, and supportive friends...we are headed back down to Grundy in the morning.... to show little Nate the "steep mountains" and the little playground with a swinging bridge (not sure if I'll cross it yet...safety first!) and shopping at Magic Mart, eating at Shoney's and Long John Silvers and ending in a sweet remembrance of our bluegrass man, Grandpa Cox.  There is beauty in the ashes, happiness in the memories, and lots of tears and laughter along the way. Be well my friends, I love you all too.

Ode to February

Less than two weeks till I am on a plane to land on Virginia soil and enjoy a beautiful week with family, a brief overnighter in the blue ridge, and hopefully substitute a bit to put a bit of money back in the bank account...:o)

Someone told me that February is the biggest month for snow in the Springs, and I thought that to be true as it started snowing the 31st of January in preparation for the first. But other than some -40 degree weather and a few delays...we have coasted through with many a beautiful, warm, sunny afternoon to remind one of the playful days of autumn.

This past weekend was full. Friday was a hard hitting the books day. We have to compose a song for theory, write three papers for psalms, and get ready for finals in all four classes. But Saturday I found myself at Audio Analyst, a sound touring company that also designs and puts in systems in churches and other venues nationwide. They have started doing "training sessions", they run through some sound and lighting basics, feed you subway, and then ask you to remember them when you are looking to upgrade your sound or lights... marketing brilliance!

Saturday night found a few of us downtown at Jack Quinn's an Irish pub with live music... a one man band of old timed fashion- steel guitars, foot tapping percussion, raspy vocals, and bluesy chords. Jack Quinns has the. most. amazing. potato wedges. hands down.

And Sunday, after church, coffee, and lunch, where I was once again reminded by a four year old that any use of the word "stupid" would earn me the loss of TV for the rest of day.... several of us ended up at the World Arena for the Rock and Worship Road Show, which featured MercyMe, Jars of Clay, Matt Maher, Lecrae, Thousand Foot Krutch, and The Afters. It was one of those pay $10 at the door and as long as you don't mind sitting up high in the stands, you don't have to worry about getting there too early.  Totally worth it to hear Maher's "Hold Us Together" live.

I'll be spending this week camped out at the local Starbucks, trying not to procrastinate. We had a powerful chapel time earlier today...went at least 45 minutes over with praying and singing....the presence of God is powerful...he's got us all in his hands.