living. loving. laughing.

living.  loving.  laughing.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

a good day in the mailbox

So first of all, are packages not the coolest thing to receive in the mail? You're having not a good day, not a bad day, but just a day. You get home, and sitting there, waiting for you in all its crumpled mailman glory is a package with YOUR name on it. I think someone could send me a rock or a lump of coal in the mail, and I'd STILL get excited. I'd still feel my heart pounding and my mouth twitching with glee; of course, then I'd open up the package and wonder what to do with the coal given the lack of a fireplace or wood-burning stove (or fine - wherever coals are burned...assuming that I'm not receiving it out of naughtiness:), but it's still a package! And it's still addressed to ME!

This week a couple of fun ones came in the mail; some more fattening than others (happy valentine's day, hips), my friend Shelley sent me a CD. I opened it up and read the note: Cara, to you and your Love. Love Shelley.

Now you have to understand, the woman is coming upon her sixth month wedding anniversary, so I'm assuming first of all that in her marriage giddiness she's trying to spread the hot-husband love to the remaining population of single ladies in America. Rub it in, Shelley. Bring on "All You Need is Love" (and other such fabulous wedding hits from jer and care's wedding:).

So another day goes by before I actually listen to it. And then I do. And then my presumptuous, fed up at Hallmark heart finds that my "Love", as addressed in the note, was my real LOVE. My Jesus. My intimate. The one I SHOULD be thinking of and celebrating on Valentine's day.

And the songs were songs about my Love (note the capitalization). And the songs struck a chord in my tired, exhausted, weary heart; I sang at the top of my lungs, I listened with the most intent of heart; I found my head tilting to the side in wonder and I sheepishly smiled at my own "rage against the machine."

I leave you with the song, and some of the lyrics that struck the deepest chord in my heart this past week. Derek Webb is his name, and he wrote a song (I assume in reference to Luther's quote?!) about Jesus and our relationship and reaction to him. I'd like to to stick an "n/a" next to the song, but altogether too much, I find myself running down the aisle, the whore of the church. Here it is:

I am a whore I do confess
But I put you on just like a wedding dress
and I run down the aisle
and I run down the aisle
I’m a prodigal with no way home
but I put you on just like a ring of gold
and I run down the aisle to you

So could you love this bastard child
Though I don’t trust you to provide
With one hand in a pot of gold
and with the other in your side

I am so easily satisfied
by the call of lovers so less wild
That I would take a little cash
Over your very flesh and blood

As my friend Jessica said, you gotta love a man who can sing about Jesus with the words "whore" and "bastard" still in the mix. I appreciate the authenticity. And you?


Dones said...

What's the address I should send the rock and coal to? :)

Gibbytron said...

bastard. whore. this is a great blog. :)

Gibbytron said...

Oh yeah, CHICKEN!!!