City Songbird

Psalms in the Smokies

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Sat, 15 Sep 2012 19:30:00 +0000

Bless the Lord, O my soul!

O Lord my God, You are very great;

You are clothed with splendor and majesty,

Covering Yourself with light as with a cloak,

Stretching out heaven like a tent curtain.

He lays the beams of His upper chambers in the waters;

He makes the winds His messengers,

Flaming fire His ministers.

He established the earth upon its foundations,

So that it will not totter forever and ever.

You covered it with the deep as with a garment;

The waters were standing above the mountains.

At Your rebuke they fled,

At the sound of Your thunder they hurried away.

The mountains rose; the valleys sank down

To the place which You established for them.

You set a boundary that they may not pass over,

So that they will not return to cover the earth.

He sends forth springs in the valleys;

They flow between the mountains;

They give drink to every beast of the field;

The wild deer quench their thirst.

Beside them the birds of the heavens dwell;

They lift up their voices among the branches.

He waters the mountains from His upper chambers;

The earth is satisfied with the fruit of His works.

He causes the grass to grow for the cattle,

And vegetation for the labor of man,

So that he may bring forth food from the earth,

And moonshine with makes man's heart glad,

So that he may make his face glisten with oil,

And food which sustains man's heart.

The trees of the Lord drink their fill,

The cedars of Cherokee which he planted,

Where the birds build their nests,

And the eagle, whose home is the fir trees.

The high mountains are for the wild black bears;

The cliffs are a refuge for their cubs.

He made the moon for the seasons;

The sun knows the place of its setting.

You appoint darkness and it becomes night,

In which all the beasts of the forest prowl about.
The young cougars (and mountain folk) roar after their pray

And seek their food from God (at the local brewery).

When the sun rises they withdraw

And lie down in their dens.

Man goes forth to his work

And to his labor until evening.

O Lord, how many are Your works!

In wisdom You have made them all;

The earth is full of Your possessions...

They all wait for You

To give them their food in due season.

You give to them, they gather it up;

You open Your hand, they are satisfied with good.

You hide Your face, they are dismayed;

You take away their spirit, they expire

And return to their dust.

You send forth Your Spirit, they are created;

And You renew the face of the ground.

Let the glory of the Lord endure forever;

Let the Lord be glad in His works;

He looks at the earth, and it trembles;

He touches the mountains, and they smoke.

I will sing to the Lord as long as I live;

I will sing praise to my God while I have my being.

{Psalm 104, edited slightly to fit the land and wildlife of the Smoky Mountains,
lying majestically across the border of Tennessee and North Carolina}
{Pictures taken in the Smokies, circa August 2011}
{Do you see why my heart aches for this land?}

Welcome Home!

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Fri, 07 Sep 2012 13:00:00 +0000

Nearly 6 weeks.

That's how long we've called Greensboro, North Carolina "home," whether we meant it or not. But somewhere in the last three weeks, the word has actually been easier to say and believe, as we've gotten to know some fellow Greensboroans (Greensborites? Greensbortians?) and feel much more settled -- not just physically, but also emotionally, mentally and spiritually. As for the actual apartment, well, here are the long-awaited pictures. I took wayyyyy too many, so I'm sticking with the common areas today: the entry, living room, balcony, kitchen and dining room. Ellie, our precocious cat, insisted on giving you the tour, so here we go:

Hello, humans. Please don't wipe your feet; I like to smell what you bring in.

Please come in so I can start that process...

Alright, now that the foot-smelling is over, let's get to business.

Follow me from the foyer (pronounced "foyay") into the living area...

Fine. I see you insist on a self-guided tour.

Well, while you're perusing Irish welcome signs and antique store finds, I'll be yawning elsewhere.

Hem... Thanks, Ellie. Well, here's my newest find: our entrance table...

... complete with a map of Greensboro, always ready to go.

After growing accustomed to Chicago's grid system, I have to admit:

this city's streets are so confusing!!!

And now let's head into the living room...

I'm thrilled that I don't have to squeeze a dining table in here like our last place...

Here's the gift we gave ourselves upon leaving our favorite city:

And here are our bookshelves (and my new favorite clock!), conveniently organized by genre / authors:

Over to the left, opposite the couch, our piano has found a new home.

If you don't get the hats, buy a physical copy of this album; you will.

I see Ellie has been distracted from yawning by her new favorite pastime: bird-watching!

Time to check out our HUGE balcony, and the very green view it imparts.

Wait! How did Eric get there?! Well, never mind.

Here's our awesome, forest-view balcony, ten feet from nature:

Our favorite thing about it right now -- while still too hot to fully enjoy sitting outside

for more than 10 minutes -- is the bird feeder, and the abundance of forest friends it brings:

Chickadees are the most common:

Back to the living room -- here it is earlier in the day, with natural light:

And looking towards the kitchen, with natural light:

I'm afraid we get only a few hours of good sunlight in the living room in the morning (and I took most
of these pictures later in the day) but there is one room we can count on staying bright: the dining room!

Hello again, humans. Are you ready to take this tour seriously yet?

Above the "fireplace" (and, in this picture, in very poor lighting) is a cross stitch of "An Irish Blessing," which my mom made years ago and recently unearthed to gave to us as a very sweet house-warming gift.

Thanks, Mom!

Entering the kitchen from the "foyay," we find on the refrigerator

two sweet, sweet pictures that two sweet, sweet girls back in Chicago made for us.

Thank you, Bronagh & Ashling!!!

And now welcome to the kitchen, where I like to be extra-naughty by climbing on all the clean counters.

Oh, Ellie.

I love that our new place is so open, that I can see the dining and living rooms easily from the kitchen.

Here's my view of the TV, which has entertained us lately with lots of Doctor Who, The X-Files and 30 Rock.

The kitchen from the point of view of the dining room, above.

And here's Ellie being naughty again, below.

Below, Eric is hard at work in the dining room again, definitely the most welcoming

and production-inspiring room in the apartment thanks to two amazing sun lights.

Did I say a forest was ten feet away? I meant two.

What'd I tell you? Our view is as green as it gets.

Oh Eric, working so hard... What are you reading so devotedly, love?

Oh. Heh.

Anyway... This is also where most of my favorite things happen:

coffee-drinking, eating, reading, studying Scripture, talking,

bird-watching, and of course, when the mood strikes, blogging.

Thank you for joining me (and Ellie) on our little tour.

I hope to show you our bedrooms (yes, plural!!!)

and bathrooms (yes, also plural!!!) in the not-too-distant future.

Until then, may our home and yours be full of...

Merry Christmas, Alice!

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Tue, 04 Sep 2012 13:00:00 +0000

I know it's a little early... You haven't even opened your sweet little eyes yet to see the last hurrah of summer or the softly approaching fall. You're still incubating, growing, like a little pumpkin awaiting your season. And even once you have come into our world, you may not notice the swift succession of Halloween and Thanksgiving and, my favorite, Christmas. And once Christmas is upon us, you probably won't yet have the ability to enjoy what I'm sending your way this year, but I think you will, eventually.

For the last 25 years, since I was a little toddling thing, I've looked forward every holiday season to this countdown... the countdown to Christmas. My mom's cousin started this tradition decades ago, hand-making and sending Christmas Advent Calendars to her nephews, nieces, cousins and so forth. My mama rekindled and continued the tradition a few years ago by creating new patterns to pass on to her nieces and nephews; and now it's my turn. I'm making two this year: one for my dear sweet niece, Fern Rose, and one for my best friend's little one, you. Although you're not in my family by blood, your mommy is my sister in God's family, truly my kindred spirit; so by the most abiding records, I consider you my niece. I hope in a few years you enjoy counting down to Santa Claus and Baby Jesus as much as I still do...

My toolbox, given to me by my mama last Christmas, in hopes that I would take up the tradition. Thanks, Ma!

Christmas Heart Cookie -- in action!

14 handmade ornaments -- Others still in process!

Christmas Tree Advent Calendar, sans ornaments

Ornaments in their pouches

Christmas Countdown!

There isn't yet a Baby Jesus pattern -- that's a new feature that I'm planning on creating in the next few months. Your mama knows I'm a procrastinator, especially in the arts/crafts area (Please don't ask her about the Ireland scrapbook!). But, Lord willing and the creek don't rise, preventing me from working on this because I'll be in shock wondering where that creek came from and how it could possibly rise given this drought, it should be all ready by the time you're able to put them on the calendar yourself!

Love,

Your auntie Carrie

This post was made as part of Jenna's Virtual Baby Shower, organized by Veronica of Veronica's Cornucopia. (Thanks, Veronica!!!) Other awesome contributers to Jenna's Virtual Baby Shower are:

4 Little Fergusons (Midwest USA): 11 Lessons To Determine If You Are Ready For Parenthood

A Little Lunch (Eufaula, OK): Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice Scones

City Songbird (Greensboro, NC): Merry Christmas, Alice!

Eats Well With Others (New York, NY): Peanut Butter and Honey Ice Cream

Hunting for Bliss (Bozeman, MT): Garam Masala Deviled Eggs

Pinking Shears & Broccoli Spears (Newark, DE): Making Food Good For Your Baby

Sydney Shares (Eugene, OR): Baby BLTs

That's Some Good Cookin' (Salt Lake City, UT): Cheesecake Cookie Bars

The Pajama Chef (Bloomington, IN): Iced Tea with Ginger-Mint Simple Syrup

Two Dogs In The Kitchen (Sterling, MI): Spicy Asian Meatballs

Veronica's Cornucopia (Wichita, KS): Raspberry Almond Fudge Cookies

Very Culinary (Sacramento, CA): Toasted Orzo and Chickpea Salad

Words on Wendhurst: A Gift For Jenna and Alice

Seven Hundred Miles

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Thu, 16 Aug 2012 17:39:00 +0000

Bittersweet.

There's truly no better word in my mind for it. Leaving home and coming home at the same time. I didn't think, or at least didn't anticipate feeling so sad... I hoped the joy of a new, long-awaited season in none other than my beloved home state would overpower any feelings of sorrow or regret. Yet, Chicago has become my home, too, over the past six years. My family by blood, Carolina's rolling hills and deep waters call me home. But so do my family in Jesus, endless motion and cloud-scraping wonders in Chicago. Both have captured my heart, yet for such opposing reasons...

I can't believe this day has come -- nor that I've had to push back tears (unsuccessfully) as I gazed down at the beautiful, lush mountains of Carolina. What a glorious view...

{journal entry from May 11, 2012}

Thus I wrote thirty thousand feet up and three months back, on my exploratory mission to Greensboro, North Carolina. And here I am, on the other side of our seven-hundred mile journey, settling into our lush landscape. We're on the eastern side of the Smokey Mountains by about a hundred miles, so my sunsets don't have all the beauty I'd wish, but they sure are green here. No el tracks stand between my apartment and the western skies, only a tall, deep forest full to the brim with little creatures... Carolina Chickadees among my favorite visitors to our back porch. If only my living room and dining table weren't still cluttered with the remains of a move, I'd show you how green it is. Oh, it's so very green.

Green is my favorite color; have I ever told you? Chicago does well to litter the vast interior of its borders with miles of boulevards and hundreds of parks. I always loved that I could walk or bike 15 minutes in any direction and end up in something akin to natural surroundings. Ironically, the "parks" in Greensboro are not walking distance from my new home (more like a 15-minute drive), but the natural surroundings are ten feet away. I think I can get used to this new way of life.

Have I mentioned how quiet it is? All I can hear at the moment is the buzzing of my own computer. If I open the windows a bit (which, sadly, I scarce can do here, as the heat and humidity keep windows shut this time of year), I can hear the screech of the cicadas. Oh yes, I remember hearing that once in Chicago, one Summer evening in which I longed for this landscape more than anything. And the chirruping of the chickadees, my new forest friends who come to visit me only for the birdseed I provide. I can't begin to explain how happy I am that I can put a bird feeder out on my porch and not worry about being overrun with dirty old city pigeons and their dirty old city pigeon poop. And yes, there is a train whistle every few hours. Not the "beep beep" of the el that I'd become so accustomed to that I didn't even realize how annoying it was, but the deep-throated, tri-toned whistle of a distant freight train, taking goods from this end of America to the other. I love that sound and giggle a bit every time I hear it.

Do I dare admit that I like it here? I suppose it's kind of obvious. But school hasn't started for Eric yet (did I mention that's why we're here?), so the loneliness of it all hasn't quite kicked in. Once he's gone eight hours a day, I may sing a different tune. A melancholy one. One a bit more like this:

Lord, I'm seven hundred miles from my home... May your grace and peace abound in this new one.

Ze lieder learns to delegate...

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 20:02:00 +0000

"God and other artists are always a little obscure."

-- Oscar Wilde

I'm feeling this is particularly true about me lately. Thornfield was so busy with monthly gigs last year, including a pretty intimidating one in December, so I felt it was necessary to take a little winter hiatus. Well, winter's been mild and short in Chicago, and I'm aching to get back into the swing of music and all that jazz. Literally.

But here's the thing: I'm not administrative. At all. And unfortunately, success in the business of music -- as is true with success in any other business -- requires good management. But as Jenna & Eric have dubbed me "ze band lieder" and as I've heard that one of the best qualities in a leader is the ability and willingness to delegate, well, here I am before you. Delegating. To you. Yes. You.

Here's what we need you to do, if you're able:

- Listen to some of our live recordings here and watch our videos here.

- Like them.

- Never mind point above ~ Please like them only if you're inclined to like them.

- Share them with your friends.

- Donate to the "tip top" (on site's sidebar) to help us raise funds for recording a marketable album, if you're able to. We've been wanting to do this for nearly a year now, and we feel it's imperative that this happens very soon so that we can have something to give back to all our wonderful fans.

- Suggest any venues in Chicagoland (or, if you think you can round up enough friends to attend, elsewhere).

- Like us on facebook (here) and share our page with your friends.

- If you have administrative or artistic gifts that could contribute to Thornfield's well-being, please don't hesitate to offer them. We welcome all help we can procure! If you enjoy designing posters, if you like calling venues to book gigs, if you live for organizing events that bring artists and art-lovers together, if you would love take a few pictures or record a few videos... These are all things that we need and, frankly, things that I'm just no good at. I would love to be able to focus on creating and perfecting good music, and distractions like business keep that from happening, I'm sorry to say.

- Above all, we cherish your support, and I don't mean simply financially. To see some of the same faces at gig after gig has been such a truly heartening and encouraging thing. Thank you, so very much! I'm in process of working on a press kit to secure some more gigs very soon, so please continue your support by bringing your classy selves to them! :)

taken by our most devoted fan & roadie (who happens to be Jenna's hubby), Adam Plaiss

So there it is. Now I'm finally a true lieder.

On behalf of Thornfield, je t'aime!

Carrie

For Poorer

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 17:42:00 +0000

As one starving artist who married another starving artist, I knew full well what I was getting myself into when I said those words. Still, I can't help but giggle...

Anne Taintor

A Southern girl's survival kit for winter in Chicago...

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 14:00:00 +0000

So. Things have been a little heavy around here lately. Sorry 'bout that. But when I feel all light and airy and free, I rarely need an outlet for that on my blog: I simply live it. It's when things are difficult and stretching that I often come here for relief in a pent-up breath exhaled and an understanding reader. Thank you for being that.

But yesterday, as I walked my chilly half-hour walk to work, I realized this: out of six in Chicago so far, this is the second winter I've not complained all the way through, and the first I'm actually enjoying. Of course, that could be utterly due to the a-to-the-mazing temperatures we've been experiencing here. I don't know what it's like where you are, but here in the Midwest, we've had one heaven of a wintertime. Well, maybe snow-lovers like my kiddo Matthew disagree, but me -- I'm all about 40's and 50's when the average is closer to 10's and 20's. Yessirree.

That said, I've now spent one-fifth of my winters in Chicago, and if (heaven forbid) it were 12 degrees and blizzarding outside (which is actually doubtful because -- as we (now-) northerners know -- there is such a thing as "too cold for snow"), I wouldn't sweat it (which sounds logical, but under all those layers, you'd be surprised!). Of course, it almost seems like spring here right now; but as Chicago's springs are often confused and put off by lingering winters, I wouldn't be surprised if it were also true the other way around. Either way, winter ain't over yet. And I'm OK with that; I'm ready for it. Because if there's one thing Chicago winters have taught me, it's "Deal with it." Yes, Chicago winters are that prosaic and heartless.

So, for all those who wonder how and why I deal with it and don't just move back South where I belong (coughmomcough), here's my list, my three (yes, only three!) essentials for happy-ish survival. This is how I get through winter in Chicago, and -- if you find yourself here one wintry day -- how you can, too:

1. Long Underwear = Life-savers. Forget the those bulky thermals you wore as a kid when it snowed a quarter of an inch and school was declared out and you somehow managed to roll a very tiny, very dirty "snowman" out of the grass (based on my North Carolininian experience). I honestly don't know how I'd have gotten through a Midwestern winter without these -- well, for lack of a better term, underpants. They're made of the same fabric as a slip, so as you can imagine, they don't make you feel 5 inches wider, but they absolutely keep you warmer. I try to walk to work every day if it's not absolutely horrid out, and this is how I've done it. Nineteen degrees with a wind-chill of 7, you say? No prob. I've got my long janes.

2. The Beach Boys. Oh yes. Again, this has saved my wintry walks to work. When I turn on the Beach Boys in my ipod, the world gets brighter. The snow begins to melt, the winds die down, the sun boldly shines through the dissipating clouds, and a smile appears out of nowhere on my wrinkled up grumpy face. Or at least that last part. Who doesn't get warm feelings when listening to "California Girls" or "Surfin' USA"? Also, listening to songs like "Fun, Fun, Fun" inevitably makes me walk a little faster, which not only burns more calories but also gets me to my destination and out of the cold even faster. Win-win.

3. Clementines. Or as one Trader Joe's cashier called them, Adult Candy. I didn't grow up eating clementines, but now I don't want to face another winter without them. They not only give me the extra-needed Vitamin C that my body craves as it fights off all the colds and stomach bugs that are viciously making their rounds this time of year; these pint-sized oranges also give one a warm feeling of tropical beaches and itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny, yellow-polka-dot bikinis and summery smoothies. In case you haven't noticed, half the battle with a Chicagoan winter is in one's own mind.

So that's it. My sensory three-step plan to a less-than-grumpy season of death. My trifecta of happiness in the midst of what would otherwise be dark and dreary and frigid-beyond-your-imagination-if-you-haven't-yet-crossed-the-Mason-Dixon-line bitterness. A Southern girl's survival kit for winter in Chicago.

Frozen Heart

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 19:37:00 +0000

For the first time this year (and the first significant time this whole winter long), snow rages through the air and settles deep on the ground. And as I sit here, coffee betwixt my fingers and thumb, warm to the bones and full to the brim with everything I need and many of the things I want, I remember...

I remember Walter, the man with the cardboard sign who only asked for help to keep his 6-year-old son off the streets. I remember the many veterans, men and women, who have fought long and hard with body and mind, now frail in both, who sit on the side of the highway exits, judged for being physically and emotionally and mentally scarred by the battles they've seen. I remember the man under the overpass, his bed of old, smelly sleeping bags made with care, practicing his kirate -- or dancing; I couldn't quite tell. And the snow flew anyway. And as the ground beneath them froze, so did my heart. And I realize I don't know the meaning of these words as well as I often think I do:

Remember my affliction and my wandering, the wormwood and bitterness.

Surely my soul remembers and is bowed down within me.

No, that I do not remember. But they do.

But it's not too late for them, for their frozen bodies. Nor me, for my frozen heart.

This I recall to my mind,

Therefore I have hope.

The Lord's lovingkindnesses indeed never cease,

For His compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;

Great is Your faithfulness.

His lovingkindness and compassion are extended to my heart each and every day, and I have the choice each day to extend it beyond myself, to those in need.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again:

I was raised in a culture that said, "God helps those who help themselves" and "You reap what you sow" and "I'll help you if you prove to me you're worth it." Nowhere in any of those statements is the gospel present. The gospel is about God helping people who cannot help themselves, and reaping something that someone else sowed, and understanding that we're all unworthy of help and that's why it's so awesome that God's love and care is not based on worth! The gospel is God helping the poor, namely me and you. And those who've heard and understood and accepted this gospel are called to be extenders of the same grace we were given.

That means helping people who can't -- maybe even won't -- help themselves.

That means giving people things that they didn't work for.

That means extending care and grace and provision to people whether we deem them "worthy" or not. Because neither are we. Yet, God lavished all of his fullness on us anyway.

And you know what? You and every other person on this planet may not be worthy of another's unconditional love and provision, but we all have eternal, immeasurable value -- God's image imprinted on every eye and every fingerprint and every soul. And with that value comes responsibility for making that choice, for extending that grace, for loving God by loving our neighbors.

Yes, my heart is often distracted -- or even intentionally turned away -- from the needs of others. But I pray God above and within will help me turn my eyes and spirit to those in need, and help me extend to them my arms and my love, cold though it may be, that His love working through me might warm and thaw this frozen heart.

2012: Abide

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 19:06:00 +0000

I realize that all the one word for 2012 posts have long been posted by now. But I don't mind reminding myself that, really, we're only 10 days in. We've all gone back to work and workouts and just saying 'no' to all the candy that has somehow ridden out the wake of Christmastime and lingers menacingly from the coffee table, calling out to us... just one more. Still, even though back to reality, we sense a rush of rest now that all the holiday shenanigans are behind us forever... except that they're 10 months ahead. See, 10 isn't very much after all...

I don't normally have one word for the year. That is, my mind is usually just a little too disjointed to focus on or even tie everything together into one thing for 12 months. But then, on January 1st, we studied part of John 15 at our church service and... well... I couldn't get this word out of my mind.

Abide.

Here's the passage we studied, Jesus' very words:

I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit, He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit, He prunes it so that it may bear more fruit. You are already clean because of the word which I have spoken to you. Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me. I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing.

If anyone does not abide in Me, he is thrown away as a branch and dries up; and they gather them, and cast them into the fire and they are burned. If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit, and so prove to be My disciples. Just as the Father has loved Me, I have also loved you; abide in My love. If you keep My commandments, you will abide in My love; just as I have kept My Father’s commandments and abide in His love. These things I have spoken to you so that My joy may be in you, and that your joy may be made full. This is My commandment, that you love one another, just as I have loved you.

::breathe deeply::

Simply abide. Abide in Jesus, and abide in His love. And let His words abide in me.

Last year about this time, I felt like I was in a fruitless season, in the sense that I believed nothing was happening to or through me and that I wasn't going to be of much use to anyone for a while. But in the midst of that season, I remembered these words, and they gave me rest:

How blessed is the (woman)

who does not walk

in the counsel of the wicked,

Nor stand in the path of sinners,

Nor sit in the seat of scoffers!

But (her) delight is in the law of the LORD,

And in His law (she) meditates

day and night.

(She) will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water,

Which yields its fruit in its season

And its leaf does not wither;

And in whatever (she) does,

(she) prospers.

These words from Psalm 1 gave me peace... To know that even the tree that is firmly planted by streams of water -- in God's Spirit and drinking in God's living word, that is -- even that tree isn't expected to bear fruit year-round. No, and just because it's not bearing fruit in a particular season does not mean it's dead, for "its leaf does not wither." And that was me last year. Not dead, just not particularly fruitful. And that was OK. God didn't (and still doesn't) expect me to bear fruit year-round (or even every year). He gave me rest and peace in the truth that there is a season to be fruitful, but that there is also a season to simply be alive.

But this year... This year, I can already sense will be different. I believe, I hope, I pray this is my season to bear fruit. Whether that means more intentional (but also more organic) ministry to women and music-lovers and blog-readers... whether that means starting a family... whether that means taking Thornfield beyond little coffeeshop gigs to wider audiences... Whatever it means, I think it will involve planting seeds, nourishing them, and letting them grow. And if I want them to produce much fruit, good fruit, lasting fruit, there is only one thing I must do: abide in the vine.

So, 2012, I'm drinking of the fruit of the vine to this: to abiding, and thereby to bearing much more fruit to drink of!

Heavenly Peace

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 17:19:00 +0000

For those wondering what I do with all the time I'm not blogging (which, as you know, is quite a lot of time, indeed), the last few weeks have involved two primary things: a few more-important-than-usual gigs to prepare for, and a really annoying cold that has gotten in the way of much of the necessary prep time. I'm finally feeling myself again, which is good since this coming weekend will involve 2+ hours of wedding and dance music for the marriage of some good friends from Holy Trinity Church. Between crooning some jazzy slow songs and belting out classics like the Hokey Pokey, my weekend is certainly going to be one for the books. (Which books are yet to be determined, but I'm guessing either a sappy romance or a love-gone-wrong horror novel.) It's sure to be a fun time, either way.

In addition to that, given it's Christmastime and all that, there are of course Christmas concerts. Last Friday our church hosted our annual holiday event, Christmas on the Town. Though I was still somewhat in the throes of a sinus infection, I still somehow managed to do this:

The song, composed by our friend and church music colleague Ben Lynerd (who is also at the piano in this video), is called "Heavenly Peace: A Blues Ballad," and it's based off of poet William Cullen Bryant's piece, "A Rain-Dream." Here are the words straight from the poem:

These strifes, these tumults of the noisy world,

Where Fraud, the coward, tracks his prey by stealth,

And Strength, the ruffian, glories in his guilt,

Oppress the heart with sadness. Oh, my friend,

In what serener mood we look upon

The gloomiest aspects of the elements

Among the woods and fields! Let us awhile,

As the slow wind is rolling up the storm,

In fancy leave this maze of dusty streets,

Forever shaken by the importunate jar

Of commerce, and upon the darkening air

Look from the shelter of our rural home.

You might notice that some of the words were changed a bit to fit the song, and particularly Ben's arrangement of it with "Silent Night." For instance, in the song the excerpt ends with, "Upon the darkening air, let us gaze from the mountain on a silent night." While these words always have something to say to a busy city-dweller like myself, forever ready to hear, "Let us in fancy leave this maze of dusty streets" (a truer image of the city ne'er was uttered), the poem was particularly meaningful last week. My cold kept me up most nights with wearying congestion and perpetual coughing, and oh -- how often I thought to myself, "oh, to have a moment's peace... oh, to sleep again!!," I could not possibly recount.

Sick or not, this concept of peace is tonic for the weary soul. This city, not to mention the world in general, is full of strife, fraud, abuse and oppression, and its inhabitants are not only shaken but imprisoned by "that importunate jar of commerce." And while here in Chicago I often believe a rural home to be the far-off image of peace, even that is not the source or epitome of it. No, true peace is only found in this: a wee baby, a paradoxically tiny God in flesh, come to bring peace with God to all mankind the only way it was possible, by becoming like us. With us.

God with us.

Finally, not just a moment's peace, but an eternity's.

And not simply "peace on earth" but heavenly peace on earth.

Thank you, Father, and oh, how we long for peace on earth as it is in heaven, through your Son...

*****

Special shout-outs to my dearest friends: Jenna who captured this video, and Graham Nelson, who plays that mouth harp like nobody's business! Also much thanks to Roy Patterson from Moody Radio, who graciously stepped in to lead the congregation in "Silent Night."

*****

EDIT: I can't believe I forgot to mention this, but one of Eric's beautiful compositions was also a highlight of the evening!! Click here to hear it on his own blog!

An Ornamental Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 21:30:00 +0000

One of the most exciting parts of Christmas for me -- besides delicious homemade goodies, fragrant pine wreaths, slow-burning red candles and mischievous elves hiding throughout our home -- is decorating the tree. To be honest, I couldn't even wait until after Thanksgiving this year to get our tree up and decked out. Thankfully, Eric and I both came into marriage with pretty big collections of ornaments. And, sure, most of them are from our childhood and therefore make our tree seem less "mature" than perhaps the average childless adult's Christmas tree. But since Christmas is all about children, childish things and child-like joy, I think it's perfectly appropriate. (If that sounds too consumeristically child-centric, consider the point of Christmas: a child.) Anyway, I decided, just for fun, to share with you some of the ornaments that give me such delight throughout this season. (Forgive some of the blurry ones... low lighting and all...) Here they be:

How true this is? Too true.

Couldn't resist this Irish lass & her cottage!

I don't remember how I acquired this star... a teacher gave it to me, maybe? Help, Ma?

Cinderella's castle, which I got last year when we spent Christmas at Disney World. Magical times. :)

This is actually a pin, not an ornament, but I put it up anyway to represent my beloved home state, North Carolina.

Another home-made ornament. Burt's Bees: my lifeline.

I believe we got this one a few years ago in celebration of Eric's first composition publication.

Yay, Eric!

I love him, by the way.

Ah... and gotta love that mean old Mr. Grinch!

Don't do the math, please.

We picked up this while visiting the enchanting Smokey Mountains this past summer.

Dancer was always my favorite ornament to put up, as a child, and remains an absolute favorite.

What five-year-old wouldn't adore "The Littlest Angel"?

Another childhood favorite: The Old Lady in the Shoe

OK, we're not really spending Christmas in Ireland. Not this Christmas, anyway...

(More on that later!)

This is a series of "Curious Kittens" I got throughout a cat-loving phase of my childhood.

Of course, real kittens don't get into any trouble whatsoever, right Ellie?

Eloise, you stop licking the tree this instant!

Yes, as charming as it would be, Ellie spends very little time around Christmas doing this:

... and much more time doing this:

and this:

Nevertheless, we're somehow able to retain a somewhat in-tact tree.

(As long as we keep a water bottle nearby to keep the naughty cat from eating it to pieces.)

Merry Christmas!!!

What is your favorite ornament? Do tell!

Adopting the Unadoptable

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 19:34:00 +0000

You know that feeling you get when you just know God is asking you to do something kinda difficult, and you don't know how or when you'll be able to do it, but the peace you need for the process finally rests in your heart after years of uncertainty? We had that feeling this past Saturday, when we attended a conference called "Together for Adoption."

We didn't mean to go. I mean, E and I have given a little thought to adoption, and always figured that the time would come someday in which we'd need to give it serious consideration, given both the theological and practical reasons for pursuing it. But with no plans or finances or second bedroom to make it happen now, we weren't planning to go to this particular event. Then, three weeks ago, we were asked if Thornfield would be willing to play some background music during the lunch break. Jenna had already been planning to go, and since one of Thornfield's missions is to support mercy ministries, we agreed to play for free, and with it came complimentary tickets to the whole shindig. We were officially going. And what began as a gig ended as a life-altering calling.

Orphans by Thomas Kennington

It's impossible to convey all that transpired in those seven hours, but suffice it to say: God is moving hearts and souls and hands and feet toward helping the helpless and loving the unloved, sometimes unlovable. He always has been, of course, but only in the last few years have I begun to open my own eyes to the needs of others and allowed myself to understand that God wants to use my heart, my soul, my hands and my feet to bring about His will "on the earth as it is in heaven." Sure, I've known for ten years now that He was calling me into Ministry Proper. It's only just now that I'm seeing the vast, organic, dirty, crazy, lovely world that is Ministry Improper, and seeing that I have a much larger role to play in that than in the other.

Anyway, What about all this Adoption Business?, you may be wondering. Me too. The first speaker at the conference was Vermon Pierre, who spoke of "The God Who Adopts" from Ephesians 1. Here's part of the Scripture he read:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ, just as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we would be holy and blameless before Him. In love He predestined us to adoption as sons through Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the kind intention of His will, to the praise of the glory of His grace, which He freely bestowed on us in the Beloved... In Him also we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to His purpose who works all things after the counsel of His will, to the end that we who were the first to hope in Christ would be to the praise of His glory. In Him, you also, after listening to the message of truth, the gospel of your salvation—having also believed, you were sealed in Him with the Holy Spirit of promise, who is given as a pledge of our inheritance, with a view to the redemption of God’s own possession, to the praise of His glory.

To be honest, these verses, though absolutely overflowing with the superfluously wonderful merits of God's grace, always make me a little nervous when they're about to be preached on. It was while at Moody -- where Calvinism is the presumed doctrine of the educated believer -- that I became suspicious of the word, predestined. To my utmost relief, Pierre didn't once focus on predestination as a calling of "the elect," but explained the word's use as it shows God's very deliberate and intentional purpose from the very beginning of creation to adopt His people. Before the foundation of the world, it says, He chose us, to adopt us, to lavish upon us an inheritance not merely of riches but of His very presence as the Holy Spirit within us.

What really struck me about Pierre's message, what's so remarkable about all of this, is that before God adopted us, we were unadoptable. We were unwanted, unruly, unworthy to be children of God. Pierre explained that when people decide to adopt, they're given, basically, a list of things to choose from in a child. First, they get to decide definite traits, like whether they want a boy or girl, how old a child they'd like, etc. After that form comes another with checkboxes beside other, less tangible, likely less desirable traits. Traits such as "Likes to start fires," "Has extreme ADHD," "Has emotional baggage," "Is violent," "Has a history of scraping walls with knives," etc. This page is often skipped entirely, as these children are often considered "unadoptable." Now, it may be difficult for us to see ourselves as unadoptable when we compare ourselves to these children. But if we put ourselves in their shoes, take on their experiences, memories, etc., we may find ourselves closer to their states than we're comfortable with. And if we believe the gospel is true -- that Jesus died for us -- then we must also believe that we were each personally involved in His death, that we victimized and brutalized and killed God's Son.

And yet, He still wants us in the family.

And yet, He planned to use our own violence to provide salvation for us.

What a gospel! What hope! What a good, unbelievably good God!

But notice why He did this, this amazing adoption of the unadoptable, according to Ephesians 1: "that we would be holy and blameless before Him." In other words, that we would be set apart, that we would be conformed to His own image by and through His Son. That we would become more like our Heavenly Dad, extending gracious love like He does, adopting the unadoptable like He does.

And that's why my own thoughts concerning adoption have changed from, "This is something we should really think about, Lord willing," to "This is something we should actually do, and He is." I won't be anyone else's Holy Spirit, of course. He leads us each according to His own will for each. But I've become convinced, not only through this amazing Scriptural concept but also through the callings all Christians are given in James 1, in Zechariah 7, in Proverbs 31, in Isaiah 1, and in countless other verses and chapters and books in God's word, that it is every believer's direct calling to care for the helpless, and in many cases the orphan specifically. What that looks like for each family will be different. What that looks like for our family -- I'm nervous but excited and timid but eager to say -- will hopefully someday be a house overflowing with love for each other, adopted and non-adopted children alike. Because, actually, we're all adopted.

A father of the fatherless ... is God in His holy habitation.

{Psalm 68:5}

Biblical Theologiannes: Mary

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 04:02:00 +0000

It was cold out today. Very cold. Chapped-fingers, running-nose, hurting-ears-cold. Wind-blowing, leaves-swirling, raindrops-floating-cold. The kind of cold you really don't want to feel without snow on the ground. Maybe that's the real source of frustration... the painful cold without the delightful snow... the lingering of the temperature in the upper 30's, too chilly but not chilly enough to actually enjoy. One thing is for sure: that Winter Season I proclaimed was just around the bend, well, she seems to be rounding it right now. As I said before, though, along with her dark skies come some bright moments... One of which, if you'll pardon my jumping-the-gun, is the Christmas Story. No, not that one! (Forget I said "gun." And don't get one; you'll shoot your eye out!) You know: THE Christmas Story.

Every year about this time, I reopen the gospel account of Luke and lose myself in the Christmas Story all over again. And every year, it seems, the most striking part to me is this passage from Luke 1:

⁴⁶ And Mary said:

“My soul exalts the Lord, ⁴⁷ And my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior.

⁴⁸ For He has had regard for the humble state of His bondslave;

For behold, from this time on all generations will count me blessed.

⁴⁹ For the Mighty One has done great things for me; And holy is His name.

⁵⁰ AND HIS MERCY IS UPON GENERATION AFTER GENERATION

TOWARD THOSE WHO FEAR HIM.

⁵¹ He has done mighty deeds with His arm;

He has scattered those who were proud in the thoughts of their heart.

⁵² He has brought down rulers from their thrones,

And has exalted those who were humble.

⁵³ HE HAS FILLED THE HUNGRY WITH GOOD THINGS;

And sent away the rich empty-handed.

⁵⁴ He has given help to Israel His servant, In remembrance of His mercy,

⁵⁵ As He spoke to our fathers,

To Abraham and his descendants forever.”

I'd like to introduce you to Mary, Biblical Theologianne. As is widely accepted, this (literally) iconic lady was only in her mid-teens when she found herself to be the incubator of the Savior of the world. (You're going to have to pardon a lot of my choices of words/phrases tonight; I'm just in one of those moods.) A teenager. A teenager who was also, apparently, not only a poet (singer/songwriter?), but a dang good Old Testament scholar and theologian. Of course, if one does much Bible reading at all, it's clear that Mary's word choice in her song -- called the Magnificat -- harkens back to psalter-like Old Testament poetry. In fact, two of the phrases used in the song (those in all caps) are direct quotations from the psalms:

Ps. 103:17

But the lovingkindness of the LORD

is from everlasting to everlasting

on those who fear Him,

And His righteousness to children’s children...

Ps. 107:9

For He has satisfied the thirsty soul,
And the hungry soul He has filled with what is good.

What may be a little less obvious is the resemblance and subject relativity to one psalm in particular: 113.

Let's give the second half of that one a gander, shall we?

⁴ The LORD is high above all nations;

His glory is above the heavens.

⁵ Who is like the LORD our God,

Who is enthroned on high,

⁶ Who humbles Himself to behold

The things that are in heaven and in the earth?

⁷ He raises the poor from the dust

And lifts the needy from the ash heap,

⁸ To make them sit with princes,

With the princes of His people.

⁹ He makes the barren woman abide in the house

As a joyful mother of children.

Praise the LORD!

Psalm 113 is what OT scholars label a "praise psalm," written with the purpose of inciting praise to God by His people, the reason for which is pretty obvious if you read the first three verses. Now, I really could go on and on about Psalm 113; I could write 20 pages on it! In fact, now that I think about it, I already have... So I guess there's another blog post in the making. But for now, I'm satisfied to merely say that the most apparent similarity between Psalm 113 and the Magnificat is the idea of God exalting the humble. But the fact that God lifts the lowly is not the most staggering part: it's the fact that he humbles, even humiliates Himself in order to do so. In the psalm's case, He must stoop down into the ash heap in order to lift up His people. In Mary's case, He must bring Himself down so far... to the point of a fertilized human egg, a growing fetus, a screaming baby... in order to "give help to Israel His servant, in remembrance of His mercy."

Mary understood this. She understood that God wasn't simply sending the Messiah in flashing lights and trumpet calls and galloping horses. No, He was doing something much less self-exalting. Instead of battlecries, He came in baby cries. And He chose her to swaddle His own Son not because she was somehow "worthy," but because she was humble in heart, one of "the least of these" that her Son would cherish and guard and call others to become. It's funny -- when the angel Gabriel told her she was "favored of the Lord," she was "perplexed at this statement." When he told her that she would bear the world's Savior, she trustingly replied, "Behold, the bondslave of the Lord; may it be done to me according to your word." In other words, it seems she was more ready to believe in the impossible birth than in the fact that God favored her. I believe that's why God favored her. And as her song shows, it is God's regard for "the humble state of His bondslave" that causes her to rejoice in such beautiful song!

In the past few years, I've given a lot of thought to "biblical womanhood." A lot of times, it seems to be illustrated by some white-washed Martha-Stewart-esque pastor's wife who likes to sew and craft and cook and clean and do all her husband's bidding. Now I love crafty things and I value cleanliness, but these are simply not the Bible's mandates for women. Mary, mother of Jesus -- not yet a wife, mind -- was not noted for doing any of these things, and was certainly not chosen because of her faithfulness in them. But we can see from her words that she is a fine example of -- and quite literally -- a "biblical woman." And as such, she was also a theologian -- one who knew and loved God's word and was able to express her own experiences in light of it, teaching others to do the same. And thankfully, she's not the only one. Over the next couple of months, I'm going to be delving deeper into the lives of other "Biblical Theologiannes" like Hannah, Miriam and Elizabeth. I'm not sure yet where this is going to take me (I never was good at sticking to a plan), but I hope you'll share the journey with me.

A Change in Seasons

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Tue, 08 Nov 2011 00:03:00 +0000

The leaves have mostly fallen, except a brave few.

The wind has developed a certain brazen chill.

The skies have traded a sweet Carolina blue for a dreary heather gray.

The night falls much sooner and quicker than it used to.

The squirrels have gotten more than a wee bit on the chubby side.

(And, thanks to all that All Hallow's Eve candy, so have I...)

Signs of The End of Autumn and The Start of Winter are all around me. And though I thrive in the quiet Autumn evenings that follow full and active Summer days, solemn as the crickets' song yet teeming with life, I'm almost ready to say that I'm almost ready for the long, dark season that waits just around the bend. I bear no shame when I admit that I've already dusted off and listened to two Christmas albums. And, honestly, the only reason I haven't felt utterly compelled to decorate my home with deep red hues and bright twinkle lights is because that happens to be the state of the place year-round. I don't know if I've ever taken the time to be thankful for each of the Seasons at once. But I'm trying to today. Instead of complaining about the coming Five Months of Torture that make up a Chicago Winter, I want to remember the Charming Two Months of Spring, the Delicious Two Months of Summer, and the Bittersweet Three Months of Autumn. And I want to look forward to the truth that even the coldest season ahead boasts tummies full of the warming goodness that is a homemade stew, bodies full of armor against the unmerciful but beautiful elements, and hearts full of the love and joy and generosity that springs from the remembrance that "unto us a Child is born."

A season of my life is also starting to fade. That post-graduate season in which rest from past toils and the saving of energy, time, money and dreams for future hoped-for pursuits has defined the past 18 months of my existence, but I'm beginning to wonder if "future hoped-for pursuits" are more present than I'd even realized. I just turned 26... which means I'm now older than a quarter-century, and the age my mother was when she had her first wee bairn. I always said I would start down the childbearing road before she did, but here I am: 26, childless, and happily so. And while the professional and musical ambitions I've developed and fostered like an overly-zealous mother haven't dissipated in the least, I can't help but think that a change is yet around the bend, and I'm not sure if I like it or if I'm ready for it, but -- true as Old Man Winter himself -- it must come whether I want it or not. And it has a purpose. And it's purpose is good. And it, too, might be brimming with full tummies and hearts.

And so, as the wind feverishly blows,

and the skies gloomily darken,

and the squirrels greedily hoard,

and the night swiftly falls like the leaves from the trees,

even so, I shall be thankful for what goodness this Season also brings... like a tendency to settle down and cuddle up... and the peace that comes with the quiet... and the thankfulness that wells up and out when we reflect on a bountiful and exciting and full-of-love year.

May all the goodness of the Season ahead be with you -- whatever Season that may be!

C'est la vie d'artiste

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 17:10:00 +0000

Hello my friends!

It's been a while since I gave an update on the musical endeavors of my life. Since they pretty much rule me right now, it seems an appropriate time to let everyone else in on the craziness that is being a working (which does not always -- and in fact most often does not -- mean paid, by the way, but I digress) musician. Truth be told, sometimes it doesn't look like being a musician at all. For instance, last night I picked up my guitar for the first time in almost two weeks and realized that -- although these two weeks have consisted almost entirely of planning and organizing some very musical events in which I play a large musical role -- often the administrative side of being a musician takes over much of the time and energy I would otherwise put into actually playing and creating music. And I have to admit, it's frustrating. I also find it ironic that being a "productive" artist usually consists of such overwhelmingly unartistic endeavors.

C'est la vie d'artiste, I suppose. But must it be?

Well, that was about to become an entirely other post. But the intent of this one is to tell yous guys what's up in our music world. So here it is:

Saturday, October 1st: For One Chicago

I'll be leading the worship times of this event with a lovely, lovely group of friends and musicians. The event itself is for a fantastic cause -- serving with our hands and feet the beautiful people of this magnificent city. It's not just going to consist of coming to a big auditorium and praising God with our lips and asking Him to make us better servants at some undefined time of our lives. It's going to involve both worship and response. Now, I know worship is a response... to God. We're also going to worship Him, though, by responding to Chicago, by serving the way Jesus served. Check out the link above if you're interested in getting in on this very exciting city-wide project.

Friday, October 14th: Acoustic Blend

Now, this little fella has been a long time in the making. It's the folk arm of the Fusion Concert Series that my body-of-Jesus home -- Holy Trinity Church -- puts on annually, including concerts of jazz, blues, classical and other awesome genres of music. I coordinated the first Acoustic Blend in the Spring of 2010, and -- as it's already Fall (today!) of 2011, we thought it was about time to get around to it again. This concert will be held at The Tapestry, a great little venue for these sorts of concerts in Chicago, and coffee will be provided gratis by CityGrounds coffee bar of Lincoln Park. Thornfield (including yours truly) will be playing, as well as some other fantastically folksy folks. So, if you're at all interested in folk music, great coffee, or just like to hang out with people who are, this is the place for you. There is a "Suggested Donation" of $5 to help cover costs, but don't let that stop you from coming if you really can't afford it!

Friday - Sunday, October 28-30th: Women's Weekend Away

This is specifically for the women of Holy Trinity (though if you don't attend HTC, you're still more than welcome... er... if you're a woman). I'm organizing the music and worship for this weekend, which has been super easy thanks to my friend Shandra and some other awesome organized women. (What would we creative types do without organized people?!?)

So. October. Is. Crazy. But as all of these projects seem to be coming together -- not effortlessly or seamlessly, but together nonetheless -- it's sure to be an exciting month for us. And the craziness has definitely taught me a lesson or twenty on depending not on my own strength but on the Spirit's. What He gives us to do, He will enable us to do. ::sigh of relief:: Thornfield will not be doing our monthly gig at CityGrounds for obvious reasons, but we'll be back there on Saturday, November 12th. Please check out our website (www.thornfieldmusic.com) for more up-to-date events, interviews, recordings and more.

Aaaaaaand... Since I'm writing about music, I think there should be some inspiring picture to go with it all in your mind. So here it is:

Have a great weekend!

Housekeeping

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Wed, 14 Sep 2011 16:18:00 +0000

No, I don't mean the actual keeping of my actual house. That is the stuff of legends. I just have a philosophical question for those faithful few who visit my tiny nook in this corner of the www. And that is this:

Can you see the blue/brown damask wallpaper on either side of this page?

OK, maybe not the mind-blowing question you were expecting. But insofar as it has to do with perception and points of view (heh) I stand by my calling it "philosophical." I, for one, have to zoom out my screen from its normal "zoom" to see it. Zoom, I tell you! Which, now that I think about it, sounds like a fun thing to do. But in this case... I digress.

Anywho. I consider that damask wallpaper essential to the experience of my blog. That's right, essential. It colors everything about this page. Paints my more difficult posts a shade cheerier and my silly posts a shade more serious. And as it is my dearest determination to start blogging more regularly again (again, heh), I want to make sure everyone else sees things the way I do (why else would I blog???). If that requires a little tweaking of the template, so be it.

So...?

A World of Mourners

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 03:04:00 +0000

"I'll always remember where I was when President Kennedy was assassinated."

As I grew up, there were just a handful of occasions that would bring these words to my mother's lips. She was a small, quiet school girl, sitting attentively in class, when the news came and the press exploded with shocking film footage and unbelievable reports on the youngest president's death. Although her words always gave me pause, I never expected to experience in my life a memory so vivid. But, like her and -- I expect -- like you, I do.

Third seat from the left,

Second row,

Mr. Bunch's Earth Science class,

Perquimans County High School,

Hertford, North Carolina

United States of America

You could send a time-traveling torpedo to my precise location, I remember it so exactly (which is an ironic illustration, now that I think about it...).

After we heard the announcement over the school-wide speakers, Mr. Bunch turned on the television and we sat in disbelief, motionless and silent, with eyes glued to the monitor -- showing the kind of rigorous attention that the science teacher had probably always desired but never quite achieved for himself. And as we watched in amazement the burning of the north tower, hit just minutes earlier by the Boeing 767, our amazement was overpowered by astonishment as we watched, live, the second plane slice through the south tower. Unbelievable.

"Where are you lost?" depicts the victims of the 9/11 attacks

A dedicated student, I'd read, reviewed and memorized facts about war in many history classes before, and as my father was an avid CNN follower at the time, I'd even seen it, in some sense. Yet still, the reality and personal nature of war was absent from my 15-year experience of the world. Watching it happen in real time on the soil of my own country, land of the free, for God's sake!, I was still too dumbfounded to even cry.

I don't remember much of the rest of the school day, except the one girl who weeped in the cafeteria because her father worked at the Pentagon, and she still hadn't heard a word from him. But I do remember that evening, standing absently in our living room, staring blankly at our own television set, wondering if this was the end of the world... wondering if Armageddon was actually going to happen in my lifetime... in my childhood... before I got a chance to fall in love, to be married, to have children of my own... wondering if this was just the beginning of the end. I remember questioning everything I'd worked for. Nights of tireless study and days of diligent activity, all for naught. This was it, and I had nothing truly meaningful to show for it.

9/11 Memorial photo by Denise Gould (DOD)

Ten years later, I still don't have much to show for my small existence, and my heart and mind are still full of questions about what happened that day. But in the time that has passed, my questions have evolved a bit. Now I ask questions like,
What is my role in the defeat of evil?
Why did God ever allow it to enter this world?
What must I feel towards those who take violent action in the name of their own god, Allah?
Am I allowed to hate him, while still loving those who trust him?
Can I mourn this loss and its effect on my nation, while not neglecting to appreciate, understand and grieve the tragic devastation that people around the world experience at the hands of such violence every day?

I, of course, have more questions than answers. Yet, some things have become a bit clearer in the past few days as I've remembered 9/11 once more. As much as I hated those possessed men on the day they mercilessly killed nearly three thousand people, I realize today that they, too, were victims of evil. They believed the lies of the Enemy, and were as much in his grasp that day as any have ever been.

I was also reminded today how timely the Holy Spirit often uses His word. Our church community has been studying the book of Ephesians for the entire summer and, whether coincidentally or providentially, we landed in chapter 6, verses 10-18 today. Here's J.B. Phillips' translation of that passage:

In conclusion be strong—not in yourselves but in the Lord, in the power of his boundless resource. Put on God’s complete armour so that you can successfully resist all the devil’s methods of attack. For our fight is not against any physical enemy: it is against organisations and powers that are spiritual. We are up against the unseen power that controls this dark world, and spiritual agents from the very headquarters of evil. Therefore you must wear the whole armour of God that you may be able to resist evil in its day of power, and that even when you have fought to a standstill you may still stand your ground. Take your stand then with truth as your belt, righteousness your breastplate, the Gospel of peace firmly on your feet, salvation as your helmet and in your hand the sword of the Spirit, the Word of God. Above all be sure you take faith as your shield, for it can quench every burning missile the enemy hurls at you. Pray at all times with every kind of spiritual prayer, keeping alert and persistent as you pray for all Christ’s men and women.

I could easily -- and I imagine many probably do -- use this passage to target Al Qaeda as the headquarters of evil, and the men who sustain it, the enemy. But as I've said before, no human being is my enemy, for that would mean that my battle is physical. It is not. And Christian Americans are certainly not its only victims. Every person is a child of God and therefore a target of Satan's burning missiles. Even those who use their own bodies as burning missiles. Every person is in deep need of God's mercy, in desperation of God's peace. Even those who withhold mercy from others and make peace seem unattainable.

"Dying, He destroyed our death..."
by Lawrence OP

I still have unanswered questions and deep sorrow over what happened as I sat wide-eyed in that silent classroom ten years ago. The deaths of so many people must be remembered and mourned on days like this. But even as we mourn, we must also bear in mind that the death of one Person was all that was necessary to defeat the powers of darkness, and to bring mercy and peace to a world of mourners...

Agnus Dei, qui tollis pecatta mundi,

Miserere nobis.

Agnus Dei, qui tollis pecatta mundi,

Dona nobis pacem.

Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world,

Have mercy on us.

Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world,

Grant us peace.

Bedroom Bliss

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 18:04:00 +0000

The first installment in a home tour series I think I'll call "Our Nookie Nest" or "Our Crampy Cranny."

For my 25th birthday last October, Eric bought for me what I'd been longing the past four years to buy: Bedroom Furniture. We'd avoided this rather costly purchase for the first few years of our marriage because, well, we were poor and barely able to feed ourselves on Aldi fare, and because we weren't sure what the next few years would bring. If we ended up oversees for any extended period of time -- for grad school or missions or whatever -- we didn't want to have to pawn off on Craigslist such an important (read: expensive) purchase. Plus, it was my own silly, outward-focused judgement that made me think that I should focus on decorating the "public" parts of our little home -- the rooms that our guests would see. This meant that, when I went on my little interior decorating sprees, our poor bedroom always got neglected. So, at least in our bedroom, we managed four years of marital bliss on free hand-me-down dressers and the metal frame that came with our mattress.

Eric -- thoughtful man that he is -- knew that this was a big dream of mine, though, to have matching furniture (oh, rapturous thought!). So last year -- since we'd saved up enough, didn't have any major move plans coming up, and were able to find a furniture discount store with just the kind of bedroom set I'd always wanted -- he decided to splurge a bit for his little wifey. Ever since then, my mother (who hasn't been able to visit us in Chicago since my graduation in May 2010) has dropped the hint once a month or so for me to display some pictures of my "new" bedroom here on my little ol' blog.

So, Ma, this one's for you. :)

First, though, lest any of you read this and subsequent "Our Nookie Nest" / "Our Crampy Cranny" posts and come away with the idea that I'm some Domestic Diva, let me just set the record straight. I cannot sew or knit, and although I once crocheted a scarf for Eric (before we were married, when I was still wooing him* ;), I couldn't tell you the first move if I tried to do it again today. I'm not all that great in the kitchen, either. Yes, I can follow instructions and can therefore cook one darn good meal if I have a good recipe, but most days I just don't feel like cooking. Keeping my home clean is another trouble point, and almost always happens only because I know someone is coming over that evening (or because I am planning to take pictures). ::whew:: Now that the air is clear of all housewifely expectations, let us begin...

Come on in, but don't make yourself too comfortable!

Here's our bedroom in "natural" light

(um, OK, plus twinkle lights):

And here it is in the unnatural variety.

The bedroom set came in three parts. Obviously, the bed...

(And yes, that is my "secret" stash of Irish chocolate leaning against the bedside.)

the chest of drawers / mirror...

... and the dresser. Cat scratches and all.

Or is this the chest of drawers, and the other was the dresser?

The world may never know.

Here are some pictures for perspective:

Please ignore the very crowded "work area."

Really, does anyone's desk not have a pile of junk (and very important) mail attempting to hide away? And for that matter, does anyone actually use their desk for desk-related activities like writing and reading and such, anyway?!?

Just pretend this is where the compositional genius happens, and I won't bother to correct you.

And now back to pretty things, like my gorgeous husband.

... and our pretty wedding picture that our cat got jealous of and decided to smash onto the floor.

And here's my home beautifying tip of the day: sheer curtains.

It was really amazing how much softening they brought to the room.

Though, putting them right beside the scratching post may have been a bad idea...

OK, that's it. Now get outta my bedroom!!!

***

Stay tuned for my next home tour: Our Brimming Bookshelves

That may sound boring, but believe me -- it's epic.

***

*I'll buy you a coffee if you know this reference.

What Is It with Cats & Linen Closets?

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Tue, 09 Aug 2011 17:50:00 +0000

I don't know, but they seem to go together so well...

Oh Baby

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Fri, 05 Aug 2011 18:29:00 +0000

OK, be thou warned. This is not a typical City Songbird post.

Frankly, the hormones are taking over the head today, and I'm a bit surprised myself at the outcome, but...

Today I want a baby.

Of course, it has ~~nothing~~ everything to do with this...

and this...

and this...

heh. OK, maybe not the last one. Gotta admit it's catchy, though.

Baby, baby, baby, oh... I'm like baby, baby, baby... Oh, excuse me. er... Where was I?

Oh yes, babies. I've been through all this before, of course. I had a (rather superficial) longing for a little one a few years ago when I was still in school and absolutely not allowed to get pregnant. (Yes, I was married then, but just had to finish school first!) At that point I think it was more the You Always Want What You Can't Have theory working overtime on me. I eventually got over it and realized that life with my hubby minus kiddos was actually pretty great, and that I likely wouldn't get this set-up back for 25 or so years once we start being "productive." So I eased back into my contented self and enjoyed the last couple of years tremendously. Till this summer when, with more gravity and depth, it hit me again.

Baby, baby, baby, oh... I'm like baby, baby, baby, oh...

Gosh darn it! Does anyone have a cure for getting this dang song outta my head?!

Maybe it's simply my "reproductive clock" ticking a little more loudly, like the closing in of a great alligator. (Yes, that would make me Captain Hook. Makes sense, contextually, I believe.) Maybe it's the discovery that there is a lot of cute "Enchanted Forest" nursery decor to be had. Maybe it's the fact that everyone and their mother seems to have a baby. Whatever it is, it's got a good grip on my heart strings and is not letting go. Of course, there are still a lot of ~~difficult~~ dreadful questions looming in the recesses (and, believe me, there are plenty of recesses) of my mind. Questions like,

What will happen to my music career when I'm needed 24/7 by another, totally dependent, human being?

Isn't raising a person kinda expensive?

Will I be able to fit into the bridesmaid dress for my best friend's wedding next Spring?

What kind of education would be best for him/her?

How will I discipline the child if when he/she is really naughty?

How do I prevent passing on certain... hm... "undesirable" traits? Like perfectionism, for instance.

What if he/she grows up to despise his/her father and I or - worse - Jesus?

Will I even be able to get pregnant / carry a child to full term?

If I am, where the heck will we put the dang baby???

Very moving questions. Questions for which I have no answers. Questions which I'm told every mother-to-be worries over and eventually figures out without so much as breaking a sweat... Well, OK, maybe one or two. Still, not an easy pill to swallow. Much harder than the one that kept me out of this whole mess to begin with.

Who knows to what end this battle raging in my mind will bring me. Whatever it is, at least I'll have a good fight song to get me through it...

Baby, baby, baby, oh... I'm like baby, baby, baby, oh... I'm like baby, baby, baby, oh...
I thought you'd always be mine. Mi-i-ine.

Five years...

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Fri, 22 Jul 2011 16:59:00 +0000

of dreaming about castles in the sky,

and of building our own on the fertile soil

of loving someone else more than life itself

... and counting.

Photo by the fabulous Casey Jo Jenkins of J7 Photography

Summertime

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Thu, 21 Jul 2011 16:28:00 +0000

Summertime, and the livin’ is easy.

Fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is high.

Oh, your daddy’s rich and your mama’s good lookin’

So hush, little baby, don’t you cry…

The dog days of Summer have come to the city of Chicago. All it took was a few sequential days of 90’s for me to realize it. As I pealed away the dead, limp buds of petunias and snap dragons, baked brown in the heat of July’s merciless sun, I heard it… The cicadas singing their deafening song, announcing the late arrival of a season that’s been around for a month but has hardly been noticed. And I felt it… the hot breeze that just barely keeps the sweat off my brow and my thirsty lungs from suffocating. And I knew it.

Summer in this city is just not Summer to me.

Yes, I take part in the long, warm strolls down charming avenues with ice cream cones in hand.

I make my way to the beach and play volleyball like Old Man Winter will never return.

I even find myself in the dog park, catching lightning bugs in the darkening dusk.

But Summer is lost. I think I left it behind when I left Carolina…

The land of warm riverbed squishing between my toes.

The land of weeping willows draped across dark but … shhh… secretly alive creeks.

The land of water moccasins that we don’t mind as long as there’s a shotgun or shovel handy.

The land of swelteringly hot but gloriously peaceful sunsets carelessly painted across breath-taking skies.

I see Chicago’s charm and beauty in the Spring and Fall. But this city seems to skip the romantically wild season that is Summer, a season not found in overpopulated beaches, overheated asphalt, or air-conditioned skyscrapers, but in wind-blown fields running green and white forever, in bare feet doing their best to keep up, in quiet evenings of star-gazing and moon-whispering, in gentle laps of water on the old, dirty bulkheads…

One of these mornins’, you’re gonna rise up singin.’

Then you’ll spread your wings and you’ll take to the sky.

But till that mornin’, there ain’t nothin’ can harm you,

With daddy and mama standin’ by…

There’s something so old and sad in that song, some longing that I’m not quite sure I ever knew before.

But I think I know it now.

The Perquimans River, my home

N. Carolina's state flower, also part of my wedding bouquet: the Dogwood

Missing Mill Park - Hertford, NC

We used to stare into these trees for hours, looking for eagles' nests.

Perquimans River's famed Log Turtles

Another attraction of my homeland: Shelby Lynn Harrell

Holy War

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Tue, 19 Jul 2011 19:37:00 +0000

I'm a perfectionist and therefore a very bad decision-maker. There, I said it. I struggle often with understanding the purpose of this little nook in the cranny of the World Wide Webmonster. Is this a place for opinionated free-thinking or for Scripture-based teaching? Is it the home of the world's worst cook's cookbook, or a family album of adorable nieces, Regency balls, and phantasmagoric trips abroad? Is City Songbird a hoard of shameless gig promos, or a collection of creation? Of reviews or recordings? Of the silly or the sacred? Well, apparently, it is all of the above.

Some days are days for harmless tête-à-tête. Other days are days for gentle encouragement. Still others are days for brutal but honest conviction. The latter are the most anxiety-ridden, for I've seen the damage that "honest conviction" can do. So I sit on my windy little balcony, coffee at my elbow, air conditioner six stories down serving as white noise to distract me from the traffic-cluttered street below and the thought-cluttered mind within, thinking and thinking and alluding to but never typing exactly what I'm thinking, afraid of hurting or being hurt. Or worse still, being called a heretic.

But today... today is a new day. I'm going to say what's on my mind. I'm going to trust that the Spirit is still in my heart, guiding and guarding my thoughts and words and actions. And I might stir up the holy water a bit, but better a little choppy than stale. So. Here goes.

I have a problem with the way Christians (myself included) use God's word. We use it as a defense for our prejudiced -- no, not strong enough -- bigoted opinions. We use it to hate and bully others whose lifestyles and preferences we detest. We use it to judge and to tear down and to condemn. We do all this in the name of "edification," forgetting that to edify means to build up. We remember well that the Bible is "a double-edged sword," but instead of turning it on our Enemy, we turn it on one another -- on other Christians and on those of other faiths and decrees. We teach our children to do the same, preparing them with "Sword Drills" but often neglecting to teach them which Holy War they're being prepared to fight. With it, we slay our brothers and sisters, our mothers and fathers, even our children. With it, we pierce and leave for dead those we should be protecting and fighting on behalf of.

We forget that "our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places" (Ephesians 6). Not against the government. Not against the liberals. Not against the communists. Not against the conservatives. Not against the feminists. Not against the LGBT community. Not against the Catholics, nor the main-line churches. Not against the legalists or the licentious. Not even against the Arminians or the Calvinists. Not against the "effeminate" men or the unfeminine women. Not against the filthy-mouthed rappers or the over-sexualized pop idols. In short, not against any other human being, but against Satan. Truth is, we're so busy fighting our battles with one another, we don't even notice him craftily smirking on the sidelines, pleased with the work he has done in distracting us from the Real Battle so that he can keep dragging sword-less souls into the pits to share his sentence of despair and destruction. Really, we're making his job a whole lot easier.

I'm not exempt from this lot of sword-mishandling slayers. This is as much my own battle as it may be yours or the next person’s. But I hope someone'll hear me out while I crawl on my knees, scarred from the battles I've won as badly as the ones I've lost, begging the Church -- the Body of Jesus, Prince of Peace -- to please stop using God's word to break wills and hearts. Instead of using it to kill, we must use it to heal. Instead of using it to tear, we must use it to mend. If the greatest commandment is to love God and love one another, than the surest way to defeat the Enemy is to use God's word -- the one weapon He has for some reason given and trusted us with -- to love.

I read Matthew 5:43-45 for the umpteenth time this morning, and the Father graciously let me in on something I’ve overlooked or simply ignored so many times before, and that is: God loves His enemies. Loves them. Lavishes blessings on them – the sun, the rain (which may be difficult to see as a blessing in Ireland, but is sure as day a blessing in Israel), not to mention eternal salvation – all good things. And what does Jesus say reveals us as God’s children? Doing the same. Loving people. And not loving only those who love us back or at least agree with our doctrine, but loving those who disagree, despise, would destroy us if they could… like they tried to do to Jesus. What was His response? “Father, forgive them; they don’t realize what they’re doing…”

Father, forgive us. We don’t realize what we’re doing – how we’re slapping and beating and killing Christ Himself when we use Your very word against Your body, against Your image-bearers. Teach us to use Your word to love, rather than to prove our doctrinal positions. Teach us to wield this sword with truth and grace, aiming it true toward the heart of Satan, and placing it with grace into the hands of our brothers and sisters. Teach us which Holy War You'd have us fight, and keep us far from the battlefields of those in which our enemy is not actually our Enemy, but an object of Your love. And teach us to love as You do, so that we may be Your children.

I'm Late

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Sat, 02 Jul 2011 19:37:00 +0000

No, it's not what you think. It never is... (and if it ever was, I should hope I am capable of thinking up a more poetic way to say so!) But it did get you to read this post, so its job is done. :)

Honestly, though, if you've ever attended any regularly scheduled class, service, job, etc. with me, you know it's true. I'm perpetually late. It's like the clock doesn't apply to me, and if it does, well, that means it's running 15 minutes (or weeks) late, too. Of course, this wouldn't bother anyone if I lived in some reasonable place closer to the Mediterranean, but here in the northern part of the western hemisphere, it seems to matter. It's not my fault, though. Nurture over nature, I say! Mom still hasn't sent the package she promised in April, but I don't blame her for that: her Mother's Day card still sits peacefully, collecting dust on our bookshelf, right next to Dad's Father's Day card. Nobody in my family likes being late. It's just what we do. It's one of those strange genetic facts of life that everyone complains about but no one remediates and everyone perpetuates. Like Aunt Petunia's jello salad.

Anyway, what now? you might be wondering. Yes, Carrie, we've been reading this blog long enough to know that you're not exactly jive with The Now and have a very difficult time finishing what you started, even if you started it within a reasonable time period after you were inspired to begin it!

Well. Thanks for the vote of confidence. I'll ignore that comment and maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to finish this very post.

So.

(Two days later...)

As I was saying...

I'm late.

There are many things in life to which I have been late, but this is one of the more lamentable, as I'm enjoying myself with it more than I have with any other. It's called Harry Potter. Maybe you've heard of it? I bought Eric the first book for Christmas, as I knew he liked the series, but sometime last month, between novels myself and at loss for something new to read, I decided to give it a whirl. Eh, the last movie's comin' out this Summer, so I may as well give the first book a shot. Oh boy, if ever I signed up for something that turned out to be way more than I bargained for, about which I was happy, this is it. Now I somehow find myself on the verge of delving into the fifth book, having hit up the local used book store about once a week since May, trying with all my might to get through the seventh before going to see the movie in two weeks. Eric has picked up the series again too (he can never settle for having less fun than I), for the third time I think.

I suppose I should explain why I never picked up the decade-old pop phenomenon before now. I guess it was the whole "witches and wizards are of the devil" Southern mentality that kept the books out of my hands. No, poor Bobby Boucher's upbringing isn't rare down there.* Not that my mother is at all likened unto his, but many of the Bible Belt Mothers were, and I'm pretty sure our church at the time shunned the series altogether. As I wasn't one to rock the boat, I instead just went with the flow and avoided it. Now that I'm past "the point of no return" that is book four, I do realize that this is no longer a cute, albeit incredibly well-written, children's series, but a serious fight of Good and Evil. Actually, it's almost totally not unlike the story of Scripture. And there are certainly very dark elements, but the story never enshrines the dark. It totally upholds the defeat of the dark and depends upon the sacrifice of self for one's friends and even grace towards one's enemies (besides He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, of course, who -- in calling himself "the Dark Lord" -- is nearer the image of Satan than any other fictional character I've encountered).

My point is: I was forbidden from reading Harry Potter because it was so anti-Christian, but the truth is: Harry Potter is more "Christian" than a lot of "Christian fiction" out there. I could just say it's been a fun read, and it has. But really, it strikes a chord with me because it is so near The Truth. The Truth about a beautiful, magical world created for pleasure and glory, but tainted with fear and pride by evil and selfishness. The Truth about a horrible, powerful "lord" scraping and slithering and slaughtering for even more power and glory. The Truth about One who is more powerful than he, who uses his own power for good, risking and eventually laying down his life for the safety of not only his friends but of all mankind. Of course, I haven't read the last three books yet (please don't tell me how it ends!!!) so I'm still somewhat in the analogical dark, but I think you get my point.

So, what's next?, I wonder. Will I manage to surmount the seemingly unsurmountable by getting through the next 2100-odd pages before July 15? Eh, probably not, but I don't care to stand in line for the first showing of the last movie anyway.

And you? Any good, un-Christian Christian novels out there we should know about? What do you think (or what have you been told) about Harry Potter? Whatever you say, don't give away the ending or I may have to put a spell on you!

-----------------------------------------

*If you don't understand this reference, then you probably weren't raised in the South, but perhaps in a similarly restrictive culture. I promise, this restriction was well-founded.

Thornfield

noreply@blogger.com (Carrie) — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 17:51:00 +0000

Yes, City Songbird has been m.i.a. lately... at least in the blogosphere. I've been pretty active elsewhere, believe it or not. For one thing, I've got this band, see... and we've been writing some music, see... and performing regularly in Chicago, see... so much so that (yes, I'm going to say it again) we've finally gone and made a name for ourselves, see... No really, see. Right here:

Oops! Wrong picture! er... sorry! ... er, where did I put that file...? Oh yes, here we go:

Much better. Or at least more informative.

That's right, folks, we're officially a band! With a real, cool band website, to boot! (Please check it out and let us know what you think!) We've each and all been working on some new material (rather faithfully, if I may say so, for working-class people with day jobs) and have been able to debut, on average, about three new songs every month. June is no exception, so we'll be bringing some fresh tunes to CityGrounds coffee bar in Lincoln Park this Saturday (June 11), from 7 to 9pm. So, if you like folk, jazz, singer/songwriter, or blues, please do come out and hear our fusion of all these styles and more.

In addition to playing at our favorite coffee spot, we're on the prowl for some new venues to visit this Summer. If you have any suggestions, please do let me know. I'll do my best to update you on our schedule, but of course the best way to keep track of all-things-Thornfield is to check regularly thornfieldmusic.com, where you'll find all you need to know about us, and a few extra things thrown in for good measure. And if you're all about the social media connections out there, you can also find and become fans of Thornfield on facebook, follow us on twitter, and listen to us on ReverbNation or myspace.

Well, time for me to be about practicing... or convincing Jenna to get that awesome tattoo...

Reader's Poll: Should we encourage Eric to let that facial hair grow? I'm kinda drawn to it, myself...