Month: August 2005

I must add this quickly: Thank you to all the decorator elves who helped me with the party this afternoon. I am not a party decorator. I don’t enjoy it. I persevered, but I never would have made it without the decorator elves.

A friend of mine turned 40 yesterday. For him, it was a milestone, not a millstone. This milestone did not injure him as much as some thought it would. I know he really enjoyed all of the little celebrations we had for him throughout the day, and I’m thankful for the opportunity to show him how much I value his friendship.

Last night, while making some of the lists and fun things to give my friend for his birthday, it hit me like a ton of bricks that my brother would be 40 this December. I don’t know why thoughts like that sneak up on me and stun me like that, but this one did. I remember all the teasing he gave me when I turned 30 and I promised him that I would pay him back bigtime when he turned 40. I started plotting my revenge then, but two years later, he was gone.

I am now older than Scott was when he died. Closer to 40 than he got the chance to be. I don’t know why my Scott undertow is still so strong. (See God is Bigger Than the Ocean) It’s not that I think I’ll forget I ever had a big brother or that his death did not affect me greatly, I just didn’t think I’d be sitting here nearly four years after he was gone and have my emotions be tossed around so much preparing for a friend’s 40th birthday party.

When I am caught in the Scott undertow, I find myself back in Scott’s hospital room, standing by his bed in the darkness, promising him I would not waste my life. The only sound in the room is the humming and buzzing of the instruments that keep him alive. His hand is cold in mine and I feel my heart being ripped to shreds. It’s all as real to me today as it was then, a place in my mind where time stands still and anguish still squeezes all the air from my lungs.

It’s not that I believe my life is a waste, but lately I am overwhelmed by the feeling that I am wasting my life. Then I emerge from Scott’s room and I am thrust back to the present. I stand and look in the mirror and think, “you hypocrite.” And there, I find, is the ton of bricks that stunned me last night. I just couldn’t put words to it until now.

Truthfully, if I knew exactly where to go from here, I’d probably get a speeding ticket on the way. Nothing is clear to me right now other than the smell of the ocean. My eyes sting from the salt, and I am disoriented.

Today the church I work for was giving away old hymnals that had been found at one of our storage locations. The hymnals were printed in 1964 by Broadman Press. The assistant in the music department that has been attending that church since 1935 (and playing piano there for over 50 years) swears she has never seen these hymnals before, yet three boxes full appeared on her desk yesterday.

She sent out an e-mail today advertising the giveaway of said hymnals. I love hymns, so I e-mailed her back and had her hold one for me, then ran down to retrieve it. The cloth cover is red with the words, “Christian Praise” on the front in gold. Though I can tell it’s been used, it is in very good shape.

All that said, I was thrilled to find inside some of the the old, old hymns that nobody sings anymore. One of my favorites is one that my grandmother loved. When the Roll is Called Up Yonder is a lively tune and I will always cherish it because of it’s tie to my grandmother and also because of the following story.

As a child, my grandmother could not grasp why anyone would sing such a nasty song in church. Come to find out, she thought the title was, When We “Roll Around” up Yonder. “Roll Around,” isn’t something good Christian girls do, apparently. At my grandmother’s funeral, we sang this song and were laughing through our tears.

I was thrilled to find When the Roll is Called Up Yonder on page 426 (written by James M. Black).

When the trumpet of the Lord shall sound, and time shall be no more
And the morning breaks, eternal, bright and fair;
When the saved of earth shall gather over on the other shore,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

Refrain

Gotta love hymns utilizing the lovely word, “yonder.”

And you’ve gotta love the generation who sees the depth and inspiration in these songs and passes them on to the next one.