(I have to give props to a college classmate of mine for the template of this post. Melissa is journaling through life and country lyrics for a year. Recalling memories, brokenness and recurring question, she highlights the existential underpinnings of a country song. Check her blog out!)
I love music - songwriting to be exact. In life, there exists themes,events,thoughts,feelings,hunches, understanding, truths beyond the bounds of grammar and proper punctuation. Its a shame we do not appreciate the artistic brethren among us. People in the arts, at times, communicate elements in life that seem to evade our limited language. It's not solely in the words said, or the melody composed, the stage set or dance moved...its the whole lot of it put together at once, in cadence, syncopated, metered, segmented only to rise, fall and come together leaving you hanging on a note, a word, an idea. It's the expression that captures what we all want to say - what we know, but are at a loss to expound upon. It's as if those in the arts understand certain things better that the rest of us - like they can see in ways others cannot.
A few days ago, my local country music station played the newest Eli Young Band single.
She's got a bumper like a billboard
Covered in stickers of her favorite bands
She's got a handful of records that she turns to
When she needs to land
She's a saturday night parade through the streets
That all eyes come to see including me
She carries memories around like souvenirs down in her pockets
She should have let some go by now but can't seem to drop it
Says forgiveness ain't nothing but a lifeless tire on the shoulder of her soul
That never rolls
I love music - songwriting to be exact. In life, there exists themes,events,thoughts,feelings,hunches, understanding, truths beyond the bounds of grammar and proper punctuation. Its a shame we do not appreciate the artistic brethren among us. People in the arts, at times, communicate elements in life that seem to evade our limited language. It's not solely in the words said, or the melody composed, the stage set or dance moved...its the whole lot of it put together at once, in cadence, syncopated, metered, segmented only to rise, fall and come together leaving you hanging on a note, a word, an idea. It's the expression that captures what we all want to say - what we know, but are at a loss to expound upon. It's as if those in the arts understand certain things better that the rest of us - like they can see in ways others cannot.
A few days ago, my local country music station played the newest Eli Young Band single.
She's got a bumper like a billboard
Covered in stickers of her favorite bands
She's got a handful of records that she turns to
When she needs to land
She's a saturday night parade through the streets
That all eyes come to see including me
She carries memories around like souvenirs down in her pockets
She should have let some go by now but can't seem to drop it
Says forgiveness ain't nothing but a lifeless tire on the shoulder of her soul
That never rolls
For as much as she stumbled she's runnin'
For as much as she runs she's still here
Always hopin' to find something quicker than heaven
To make the damage of her days disappear
Just like Guinevere
She don't hold on to nothin' new for very long
She writes you in as just one more tale and then you're gone
Cause she once fell hard cause she dropped her guard
And no one gets to stay
It's just too late
For as much as she stumbled she's runnin'
For as much as she runs she still here
Always hoping to find something quicker than heaven
To make the damage of her days disappear
Just like Guinevere
Listening to this song, I was reminded of why I desire to counsel. There exists all around us beautiful people carrying around
She writes you in as just one more tale and then you're gone
Cause she once fell hard cause she dropped her guard
And no one gets to stay
It's just too late
For as much as she stumbled she's runnin'
For as much as she runs she still here
Always hoping to find something quicker than heaven
To make the damage of her days disappear
Just like Guinevere
Listening to this song, I was reminded of why I desire to counsel. There exists all around us beautiful people carrying around
eclectic hurts in blue jean pockets. Men and women holding onto to life's experience for meaning, trusting the feeling of song
and living under the power of their brokenness.
People. Its about people. People who are loved or not. People who parade through life, elusive as the summer day is hot. People
People. Its about people. People who are loved or not. People who parade through life, elusive as the summer day is hot. People
whose mess is hard to avoid or whose pride sops it up as best it can. People who run long and hard and wake up to find they are
in the very spot they have tried for years to leave. People looking for a quick fix, an infomercial for happiness, a drive thru menu
of solutions to life's problem. People, just like Guinevere, are a beautiful mess.
Yes, its about people. The real kind. The kind that are only beginning to realize their messiness. The kind that are eclipsed by their brokenness.
Yes, its about people. The real kind. The kind that are only beginning to realize their messiness. The kind that are eclipsed by their brokenness.
The kind that have a heart full of questions. The hurting. The unsure. The all of us kind.
All of us. Its about all of us and our broken, fallen, sinful state. It's about the Savior who came to walk through all earth has to offer.
All of us. Its about all of us and our broken, fallen, sinful state. It's about the Savior who came to walk through all earth has to offer.
It's about Him making it through this earthly life unstained. About Him taking our stain, our sin, upon Himself. About Him taking the
ramification of our mess upon himself. About Him making peace with God, bringing redemption, a chance at new life, through his sacrifice
for people everywhere, just like Guinevere.
I stand five classes and eight months shy of a Master's in Christian Counseling. As I ready myself for the last leg of this race, I listen to
I stand five classes and eight months shy of a Master's in Christian Counseling. As I ready myself for the last leg of this race, I listen to
this song over and over increasing reminded of the adventure the Lord has begun to take me on. It is my prayer that the Guineveres
placed in my path will write me in their tale long enough to see that Christ wants to stay.
~Sarah
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