Songs that Touch

Songs have always had a way of touching me. Something about the lyrics and the music together hit hard. I like those songs, the ones that make me stop and think, and maybe even change how I think. One came on the radio the other day, a recent release by a new artist, that made me do that. I know the lyrics aren’t the same if you haven’t heard the song, but try to hear the following words in a deep, crooning voice with a country guitar in the background.

Alyssa Lies
By John Michael Carrol

My little girl met a new friend
Just the other day
On the playground at school
Between the tires and the swings
But she came home with tear-filled eyes
And she said to me "Daddy, Alyssa lies."

I just brushed it off at first
'Cause I didn't know how much my little girl had been hurt
Or the things she had seen
I wasn't ready when I said "you can tell me"
And she said

Alyssa lies to the classroom
Alyssa lies everyday at school
Alyssa lies to the teacher
As she tries to cover every bruise

My little girl laid her head down
That night to go to sleep
As I stepped out the room I heard her say
A prayer so soft and sweet
"God bless my mom and my dad
And my new friend Alyssa
I know she needs it bad"

Alyssa lies to the classroom
Alyssa lies everyday at school
Alyssa lies to the teacher
As she tries to cover every bruise

I had the worst night of sleep in years
As I tried to think of a way to calm her fears
I knew just what it was I had to do
But when we got to school on Monday I heard the news

My little girl asked me why everybody looked so sad
The lump in my throat grew bigger
With every question that she asked
Until I felt the tears run down my face
And I told her that Alyssa wouldn't be at school today

She doesn't lie in the classroom
She doesn't lie anymore at school
Alyssa lies with Jesus
Because there's nothing anyone would do

Tears filled my eyes
When my little girl asked me why Alyssa lies
Daddy tell me why Alyssa lies

The radio played a clip of John Michael Carrol talking about how hard that song was to write and to sing. He rewrote it a lot before he was happy with it, because it had to be just right to reach people. It reached me, and I can only hope that my own writing can reach as many people as his song – and other songs like it – have reached.

Writing and Editing

On the way to work this morning, I mentally rewrote a radio commercial because one sentence wasn't correct. Last week, I found myself checking the previous burger listing on the menu to make sure the sentence about cheese choices was consistent with the same sentence for the other burger. A few weeks before that, I wanted to get out my red pen and put a comma in the menu - they'd forgotten it between the tomatoe and the lettuce. My fiance pretended to point a remote control at me and said, "Work mode off!"

As an editor, I sometimes feel like I spend all my time catching other people's mistakes. But editing is more than that. My job is to help writers communicate with their audience. If the reader cannot understand the text, there is a problem. If the writing is awkward, wordy, or unclear, it needs fixing. If the reader stumbles over spelling errors or has to read a sentence twice, something is wrong. Writing and editing are about commincating and reaching the reader.

Sometimes I wish I could edit my life - just take out the mistakes, the bloopers, the foot-in-mouth incidents. Maybe I could go back with a red pen and delete a few things I'm not so proud of. However, in life, unlike on the computer or on paper, there is no delete key or eraser. What we have done is written in indelible ink. It stays there - forever. For good or for bad. It's times like that when I remember that history is His story, and God's grace is always working in my life - even in the mistakes. God never erases those mistakes, but He can turn them into something good for His purpose.

Because God's purpose, like a writer's or an editor's, is communication. Throughout history, He has been reaching out to people. The problem, however, is that many people misunderstand the message. Their own problems or opinions cause them to stumble over what they read or hear. They think God is like that editor who waits to catch them making mistakes and then punishes them for it. Instead, God wants to take His red pen, filled with His blood, and cover those mistakes. He cannot delete them, but He can forgive and forget them.

God is also editing our lives, forming us into the people that He wants us to be. Through us, He is writing a love letter to the world, trying to reach them. And while I can leave my work at work and turn "work mode off," He is always at work. What a comfort to know that I can leave things up to Him, turn my mistakes over to Him, and keep on writing His message.

Thankful for...

Tomorrow is the American Thanksgiving Day, and some fellow bloggers have been posting lists of things they are thankful for. They got me thinking about that. So often I take my blessings for granted or tend to complain rather than to rejoice. When life gets tough, I see only my hardships and pain, instead of remembering past blessings and looking forward to future blessings. So today I am thankful for…

My fiancé, who for some crazy reason thinks I’m smart and beautiful and amazing; who encourages me to chase my dreams and wants to help make them happen; who lets me cry on his shoulder and gives me a listening ear; who remembers what I wanted to do when I’ve forgotten; who enjoys coming up with surprises for me and planning complex dates; who is funny, brilliant, handsome, and gentlemanly.

My girlfriends, who are always ready to go for coffee or talk on the phone for hours; who listen to me when I need a sympathetic girlfriend; who keep me sane when I’m going through rough times and pray for me when I send them desperate emails; who go shopping with me.

My brothers, who (usually) let me borrow their trucks when mine isn’t working; who agreed to wear black suits to my wedding even though they hate suits; who go snowboarding and snowshoeing with me; who watch movies and play games with me; who tease me and joke with me and generally behave like brothers with me.

My mom, who homeschooled me all the way through school; who always encouraged me to spread my wings and fly; who taught me to sew and cook and bake and clean house; who is willing to drop everything and go for coffee when I need her; who has been my hiking partner and kept me going on the trail when I was ready to quit, and chased me up steep mountains when I wanted to see the top, and shared tents and pots and memories with me on many trails.

My dad, who raised me to be a lady; who taught me to punctual (which means fifteen minutes early) and hard-working; who sang me to sleep with “Kum-Bah-Ah” and “Six White Boomers” when I was a little girl, and read me Dr. Suess and Bill Peet; who was there to give me advice and a guy’s perspective when I started dating; who encouraged me in pursuing my degree and my career goals.

So many blessings to be thankful for.

Steak and Fish

A few weeks ago, I heard a joke at church. Then a few days later when I was blog-hopping I found it again. I thought it was funny and wanted someone to share the laugh with, so I sent it to my fiancé. He didn’t find it funny, and that got me thinking.

John Smith was the only Protestant to move into a large Catholic neighborhood. On the first Friday of Lent, John was outside grilling a big juicy steak on his grill. Meanwhile, all of his neighbors were eating cold tuna fish for supper. This went on each Friday of Lent. On the last Friday of Lent, the neighborhood men got together and decided that something had to be done about John; he was tempting them to eat meat each Friday of Lent, and they couldn't take it anymore.

They decided to try to convert John to Catholicism. They went over and talked to him and were happy that he decided to join his neighbors and become Catholic. They took him to Church, and the Priest sprinkled some water over him, and said, "You were born a Baptist, you were raised a Baptist, and now you are a Catholic."

The men were relieved that now their biggest Lenten temptation was resolved. The next year's Lenten season rolled around. The first Friday of Lent came, and just at supper time, when the neighborhood was sitting down to their tuna fish dinner, came the wafting smell of steak cooking on a grill.

The neighborhood men could not believe their noses! WHAT WAS GOING ON?

They called each other up and decided to meet over in John's yard to see if he had forgotten it was the first Friday of Lent. The group arrived just in time to see John standing over his grill with a small pitcher of water. He was sprinkling some water over his steak on the grill, saying, "You were born a cow, you were raised a cow, and now you are a fish."

Somehow we know that John didn’t become Catholic anymore than that steak is going to become a fish. There are a lot of John Smiths out there today, claiming to be fish when they’re still just steak. They say they are Christians and they believe in God, but nothing in their actions shows that. What they believe has not changed who they are or what they do. And the world is watching them and thinking, “If that is what a Christian is, I want none of it.”

There are many Christians today taking their baptism as lightly as John Smith, thinking that because a priest sprinkled some water over them, they are going to heaven. Just because they are baptized, they are saved, so it doesn’t matter if they eat steak, skip church, or disobey the Ten Commandments. Their baptism was just their ticket to heaven, not the start of a relationship with God, and it means next to nothing to them.

That got me thinking about how often I take my own baptism forgranted. It is easy to go through the motions, to just do the external things like not eating meat on Fridays or whatever else we think is the right thing to do. It is harder to make it personal, to start that relationship with God that He wants to have with us. It is harder to make sure that our baptism does indeed change who we are, so that all the world looks at us and goes, "Wow, they are a Christian."

So maybe the joke isn’t funny. Maybe it’s sad.

Book Review: The Inheritance of Loss

The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai first caught my eye, when I was double-checking facts for a document I was editing, because it had won a book award. I’d never heard of either the author or the award, but the award (the 2006 Man Booker Prize) sounded prestigious. As a writer, I was curious. What sort of book wins that award?

I put it on hold at my library, and a month later got a call that it was in. When I picked it up, I could only borrow it for two weeks – there were nineteen people in the hold line after me. I managed to read the book and return it on time, and decided it deserved the award.

The Inheritance of Loss is set in Kalimpong, India, in the 1980s, and Desai’s descriptions of the country are amazing. She captures the attitudes and emotions of the people there. The characters are realistic and sympathetic, from the cook bragging about his son in America to Mutt the dog adoring her master. Desai vividly portrays human actions and reactions, from Sai’s first taste of love to her anger when Gyan rejects her. Desai’s metaphors and descriptions are fresh and strong, and her use of language is brilliant.

Sai is a teenage girl growing up with her grandfather and in love with her tutor; Gyan has finished university, but the only job he can find is tutoring Sai, until he gets mixed up with the revolutionaries; Sai’s grandfather reminisces about his loveless relationship with his wife and his education in England to become a judge; their cook lives for his son who has emigrated to America; Biju is an illegal immigrant, hopping from one poorly-paid job to another until finally returning to India. Their stories twist together with those of others in their small village.

Don Giovanni

Last weekend my fiancé and I went to the opera Don Giovanni. Before we went, I looked up the story. Since the opera is sung in Italian, a friend recommended knowing the story before seeing it, though English subtitles are provided. After reading the story, I was a bit dubious about the story – multiple seduction scenes? – but I already had the tickets.

It was really good – we both thoroughly enjoyed it. My fiancé had fun trying to learn Italian, using the repetitions, translations, and cognates with French. I loved the music – composed by Mozart, played by a full orchestra. The costumes and scenes were well done, with smooth transitions between scenes to keep the opera moving along.

Don Giovanni is the story of a womanizer who goes around seducing women. His valet has a book listing all the women he’s seduced all over Europe. At the time of the opera, he’s up to about 1,800 women. However, his actions are starting to catch up with him. Donna Elvira, who both hates and loves him, wants revenge for his betrayal. She arrives in time to prevent Zerlina from succumbing to Don Giovanni’s charms. Zerlina and her husband Masetto then join Donna Elvira in trying to stop him. Donna Anna and her fiancé Don Ottavio also want vengeance, as Don Giovanni raped her and murdered her father. The five of them come after him, warning him to repent, but he laughs them off. Then Donna Anna’s father’s ghost appears and drags Don Giovanni down to hell.

The opera reminded me of morality plays I studied in English. Don Giovanni is shown in all his evil – and that evil catches up with him in the end. Nothing in the opera implied that he was a good model to follow; in fact, everything pointed to how wrong his actions were. Donna Anna shows how his immoral actions lead to further crimes – murder – and how that hurt all involved. Zerlina and Masetto show how adultery almost destroyed their relationship. Donna Elvira shows how a woman hurts from a man’s betrayal. The frequent appearances of these five in the play puts more emphasis upon them, and the wrong of Don Giovanni’s actions, than upon him. Even Don Giovanni’s valet wants nothing to do with him by the end of the play, when almost everyone is ready to say “good riddance!” to Don Giovanni.

Nothing like a little light entertainment for the weekend. Here was some good acting, good sets, good music – and a good moral too.

Winter is in the air

Winter is in the air
In the wind that stirs my hair;
It's the icy taste
Of the snowflake's lair
As it creeps south, inch by inch.

Winter is in the air,
And the birds fly to places fair;
It's the silent fall
Of the snowflakes here
As they drift down, two by two.

Winter is in the air.

Brain Wanderings

The human brain (at least mine) has this amazing capacity to go in a zillion directions at once. I suppose that is handy if you want to be multitasking, but at times when concentration is a must, brain wanderings are rather annoying. My brain particularly has this habit of abstracting itself when the object requiring concentration is a rather boring subject, such as physics.

I've been editing a physics document for the last week. As I've been over it about ten times now, the physics is starting to make a little bit of sense. However, my brain has also decided that physics is still extremely boring, and this afternoon it has been wandering in other, more interesting, directions.

Such as another blog that I recently discovered and have been reading. Fellow writers and readers may want to check out http://noveljourney.blogspot.com/ and http://novelreviews.blogspot.com/. The author interviews posted here have gotten me thinking about my own writing, causing my busy little brain to go dashing off after possible articles and stories when it should be considering physics.

Perhaps the problem is that physics is right-brained and mechanical, and I prefer things left-brained and artistic (or have I got the sides of the brain mixed up?). Though this long-term immersion in physics seems to be a good source of inspiration, as my brain's abhorrence of physics is causing great creativity in avoiding the physics and finding other topics of consideration... such as things to post on my own blog, and whether offering prizes like the blog above would encourage my readers (if I have any!) to post more comments.

However, as I am still supposed to be an editor (instead of a writer) for the next half an hour, I must get back to the technical details and the physics. My poor little brain will have to find a way to focus until I can set it free to ramble for the drive home...