Happy New Year, dear readers!
My Tuesday post for this week will be about my new One Word for 2016. In preparation for that (and also give a huge hint about what that word is), here is the Song of the Month for January.
Some months I’m so sure about the song I’m going to share with you. Other months I waffle back and forth until something suddenly crystallizes in my head and then I know—this is the one.
The latter happened this time.
It’s December, but this isn’t a Christmas song. It’s not one that everyone around here loves, but I do. I’m somewhat lacking in rhythm, but this tune absolutely makes me dance around the kitchen island when I’m making supper.
With a build up like that, you can hardly wait to hear it, right? So here you go: Big Daddy Weave’s “Praise You.”
Since I introduced the Song of the Month on Waxing Gibbous last November, it’s been my joy to share with you some of the music that has meant to the most to me over the last year.
This isn’t a feature that draws a lot of response, nor do I intend for it to be. But I do love it when a tune touches a deep place in someone’s heart, and he or she takes the time to let me know.
I’ve heard from the teenage daughter of my college roommate, from my brother across the globe in the Philippines, from a dear former colleague in Arkansas. And every note and comment solidifies what I believe with all my heart—that God speaks to His children in powerful ways through music.
I first heard the Song of the Month for October at my church a couple of Easters ago.
Not the Christian radio version. This one. Live, with the lengthy monologue.
I know, time is precious. Twelve minutes and 44 seconds of your attention is a lot to ask for. But “Forever” by Kari Jobe is worth every second.
So buckle your seatbelts, folks. As they used to say in Arkansas, if this don’t light your fire, your wood’s wet.
In my last post, I described how I found relief after years of wandering around in a emotionally and physically draining wilderness.
When I finally cast aside my fears and started using the medication my doctor had prescribed for me, I felt like I had been totally and completely unwound.
As I wrote, “I was exhausted, overwhelmed and irritable. … “But I didn’t know just how badly I had felt before until I felt better.”
In the years leading up to this moment—years when I didn’t really know or understand the hormonal cause of all my symptoms—I prayed often that God would heal me. Not gradually, but instantly, like He healed the woman who touched the hem of His garment in Mark 5:29.
Awhile back, I wrote a couple of blog posts about the comparison trap and how a quote from the Chronicles of Narnia completely changed my outlook on this contentment-robbing hazard.
Remember this? “I am telling you your own story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own.”
Those words—spoken by the lion Aslan to a young runaway on a foggy mountain pass—provided much-needed perspective years ago when Randy and I were dealing with infertility. Since then, through struggles far removed from wished-for pregnancies, Aslan’s words continue to challenge my thoughts when people around me get what I desperately want.
But while I’m trying to remember that the good things that happen to other people have nothing to do with me—that their journeys are not my journey—I can easily lose sight of the truth that I also have a story. And, despite the ups and downs and unexpecteds, it’s a good story.
I first heard “My Story” by Big Daddy Weave a couple of weeks ago when I was driving somewhere with Lilly, and I knew immediately that it would be our next Song of the Month. What I love the most about it, besides the title, is that it puts the focus squarely on the Author of my story, not on the main character.
As Fanny Crosby wrote more than a century ago (and Big Daddy Weave echos today), “This is my story, this is my song. Praising my Savior, all the day long.”