I've got something to say

Tonight at Vespers, the band did this song. As if that wasn't powerful enough, a drama group did drama to it, and I'm telling you, I couldn't even sing after it when worship started. I may just be emotional or something, but I needed to be reminded... Like the lyrics say, "And faith might mean there won't be answers And hope might mean enduring through the night But help me not forget in darkness The things that I believed in light." So listen to this song, and read the words. I can't stop listening to it. And when the Vespers team posts the video of the drama, I will post it as well.




I've got something to say
It's been one of those days
When I'm finding it hard to believe in You

I've got something to say
I've forgotten how to pray
And I'm finding it hard to believe the truth

I've got something to say
Right now it feels like You are slipping away
Like I am drowning in a crisis of faith
Like I'm alone

I've got something to say
What was black and white is grey
And I'm finding it hard to believe in You

And faith might mean there won't be answers
And hope might mean enduring through the night
But help me not forget in darkness
The things that I believed in light

I've got something to say
Right now it feels like You are slipping away
Like I am drowning in a crisis of faith
Like I was found, but now I'm lost in the fray

Christian lyrics - SOMETHING TO SAY LYRICS - STARFIELD

Morbid and marvelous

Trina and I started a new devotional last night. It's over the books of Ruth and Esther. It starts with Ruth. This was our second time reading the four chapters of Ruth straight through, switching translations to get different perspectives and what not. It was an incredible time last night. God revealed so much to us.

Something I kept thinking of after last night was Ruth 1:16-17:

"But Ruth replied, "Don't urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely if anything but death separates you and me."

Most of us have heard that before. We've heard it in marriage vows, and maybe we've heard the story before, too. After reading it a few times though in different translations, it seemed to bold itself upon the flimsy pages of my Bible.

Trina and I shared our opinions of themes in this story of Ruth. One we talked about for a while was the difference between BEING faithful, and ACTING faithful. In our own words, Ruth actually was faithful. Faithfulness was not something she did, it was something she was.

We talked about applicable lessons from what we read, and how faithfulness is obviously something we should possess as Christians. Our faithfulness applies primarily to God. After that, it basically all falls into place.

So Ruth 1:16-17 was Ruth's response to her mother-in-law, Naomi, when she told Ruth she could leave and return to Moab because Ruth's husband had died. That was a huge thing. Naomi released Ruth of the burden to carry on her husband's name. That's unheard of. But Ruth denied herself the "freedom" Naomi charged her with. And she responded as the faithful woman she was. She didn't just act faithful like the other daughter-in-law of Naomi, Orpah.

Trina and I pondered Ruth's "vow" to Naomi. I felt like God was asking me if I would make that same vow to Him. If I would say, "God, where you go, I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people. Where you die, i will die, and there I will be buried."

In a sense, when I gave my life to God, I already said those things. But let's be real. It's something we have to do over and over again. We need to constantly come back to the altar, because we constantly go back to the "offerings" we set before Him and take 'em back home.

So, what about saying to God, "Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried"? That couldn't be applicable. God can't die.

But the fact is, Jesus died. Yes, He rose. But He died. So, if I say to God, "Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried." What am I saying?

Galations 2:20 says, "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live..." There's more to it, but consider that. We're called to be "Crucified" with Christ. To die with Him.

Romans 6:1-14 goes on and on about how we are dead to sin, and made alive in Christ.

Romans 6:4 says, "We were therefore buried with Him through baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life."

It's a theme in the New Testament to "die to sin." We are to bury our sin... we're made alive in Christ, and we died to our old lives. Our sinful nature. We're made new.

So I look at myself. And when I say to God, "Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried." I'm questioned with, "Will you? Will you die where I have died? Will you be buried there?" Will I really put to death every single part of my "old self"? Will I really bury the things that don't belong in my life as a daughter of the Lord, and leave them buried? I said before in a blog a few weeks ago, I used to want to be an archaeologist. Well, sometimes I love digging up things I buried myself. When I make this vow to God, these questions are set before me. Will I leave what is dead, beneath the dirt I bury with?

I feel increasingly challenged with this. I'm never done dying... because I'm never done living. I'm never able to live enough. Never able to gain enough Life of God. The more I die to myself, the more I live to Christ. And I just can't die enough. What a morbid and marvelous concept.

"Wanna sing?"

I just had to add one thing. One of the best parts of this weekend was singing and playing the piano with Trina and her mom. After watching Glee with the two of them Friday afternoon, Mrs. Thorell asked, "You girls wanna sing?"

I wasn't sure what she meant at first. The answer is always yes to that question for me really. But I didn't know what she was talking about. Then slowly things came together. I forgot Mrs. Thorell was a music person too. She minored in music, and she's been playing and accompanying for Trina and all of her music stuff for a long time. We started going through the endless music books and song books in their adorable, and most wonderful music room. Their perfect piano was exquisite, and reminded me of the one I will buy for myself to just say, "I love you Shai. Now play." Im kidding. But it was so nice.

Soon, Trina picked a piece and her mom started playing and Trina started singing. How I love to listen to Trina Cherie sing. She has one of the most effortless voices. So pure, so lovely. I just love it. I took a turn and sang My True Love, which I'm working on this week for my Sr. Recital. We sang some duets, and Mrs. Thorell sang a duet with Trina from Wicked. We did the same thing yesterday afternoon, and last night. It was so much fun. Just singing and playing. It reminded me of home.

I just had so much fun being with the two of them. Singing all these random and wonderful songs from every musical I could think of, and all the music books they had. It was a highlight for me:)

Hey hey, what's ya name

I'm back in Illinois:)

This weekend with Train was so much fun. I had the time of my life with her and her family and friends. I get a high from meeting new people sometimes. Socializing is my anti-drug. Or something. Either way, I just loved meeting everybody.

Last night we went to a Huskers game. Apparently the third largest population in Nebraska. Where the college game is. I couldn't wear my purple sweatshirt, in hopes of not getting shot. The color is red people. You wear the right color, and nobody gets hurt. So I borrowed red from Trina, and we stopped and grabbed an official T-shirt, so I can say I've been to Nebraska, and not only that, but experienced Nebraska. I'm wearing it now. I feel like part of the pack. While still maintaining my Jersey wits.

After half time, Trin and I left and headed out to her mom's old college, Concordia University. UNL (University of Nebraska Lincoln campus) was where the game was, where Trina's dad went to school. He also coached the football team for a while. Anyway, a friend of ours from Greenville, as weird as it is, was playing a show at Concordia. So we met him there and stayed for his show. It was the strangest thing to be 9 hours away from Greenville, and see Clayton play. We'll see him tomorrow. I just find that amusing.

We met some cousins, aunts and uncles. Some of my favorite people might be Trina's grandparents. Her grandma was absolutely hysterical. She was a talker, which warmed my heart. She treated me like she knew me her whole life. She'd keep talking, and if no one was paying attention she'd just seem to pick someone who would meet her gaze. That was me a few times. I loved it. She was such a sweet woman, and I loved how into the football games she got. When Trevor was in the midst of his first touch down, she was sitting behind me and grabbed onto my shoulders and squeezed and shouted her anticipation. She then realized I was not her granddaughter, and she apologized for going crazy and grabbing me. I just loved it though. Oh man, she was so great.

Trina's grandpa was hilarious too. He thought I said my name was "Trina" too when we were all giving introductions. Train and I seem to get that a lot. In fact, that's one reason I call her Train. Traina sounds like Shaina. And then people sometimes call us "Trina and Shina." Like, "Sheena." Apparently our names sound too much alike for the average Joe. That's why we vowed we wouldn't marry anyone named Joe. We like our names.

I felt like I heard my name more times than I normally do. It had to do with Trina's dad's name being Shane. Now, understand this. I am in every way, a nick name person. I LOVE calling people something. I love their names. I love calling them by their names, yet also by whatever seems to click in my head. Like Train. Or Francine (aka Ali), or Whitnock/Whinny (aka Whitney), Pookie, (Aka Katie Johnson), Lashes (aka Laura), Bi (...Anna)... you get the idea. I had established many years ago that my friends could call me whatever they wanted. Except Shain. That was, in fact, a boy's name.

I can take a punch and act and look rather masculine in certain situations. Yes, it is true. I enjoy sweatpants. I love huge T-shirts, and I even gargle sometimes. When no one's looking, I blow my nose too. But. I've always intended to maintain my femininity by all nick names awarded to be rather less manly.

It all started when I started calling Katie Shaffer Kath. Her name is Kathleen. So Sarah Sharpe and I decided it would work. Katie hated it. So she started calling me Shain. We'd fight over it all... to be honest, it never seriously bugged me all that much. For the sake of the situation though, I fought like a champ. But people still call me Shain sometimes.

All this to say, I'm over it. I don't mind it at all really. And I respond and turn around when I hear the name "Shain," or in this weekend's case, "Shane."

Whew. That was an exhausting description. Now you know something new about me.

Getting back to Illinois was kind of sad. Trina and I had a vacation. Coming back is always exhausting and somewhat depressing. But I think we're getting back just fine. Lots to do this week... and I'm looking forward to getting a lot done in the next few days.

Time is flying. Trina and I are both busy bees, and love it that way. But it makes times go by really quickly.

And finally, the story of the title: Caleigh and I used to rap to the song "I'm Like A Bird," and end with our own stupid and completely ridiculous words. "Hey hey, what's ya name" May or may not have been a part of our rendition. And by saying that, I've basically exposed myself. Cal, cheers to us being little obnoxious songwriters before we knew the difference between cool and just down right not. I felt this appropriate after all my rambling about nick names... and adieu :)

Corn Huskers

I'm in Nebraska! Thursday night, Trina Cherie and I set out for Omaha Nebraska. We got to the airport in St. Louis, and decided we needed a peppermint mocha from Starbucks. It's a thing of ours. We split peppermint mochas. Anyway, we ordered, and the dude gave us two grandes for free. I won't say it was without rather unimpressive comments... we don't look like strippers so I was confused, but we walked away, and enjoyed the drinks anyway. Hopefully he didn't put anything besides the ingredients into the cups. We tried to think positive.

We got to Omaha after our flight had been delayed for about an hour. I spent the whole plane ride looking over a song for my Sr Recital. I'm kinda doing some arranging, I guess you could say. I won't give away too much. But it's going to be pretty spectacular. I'm really excited to have a lot of people involved. It's exhausting, but it's going to pay off. And I think I'm going to have the time of my life, come February 26th, at 7:00 PM on that stage.

Some of Trina's friends picked us up, and we stopped at Nebraska Wesleyan University to see some more people. I've had so much fun finally putting faces onto the names I've learned while knowing Trina.

When we got back to Trina's, I was laughing about how all you see is sky. No matter where you were. Nebraska is flat. I said that about Illinois. But really. Nebraska is flatter. But the adorable thing about it, is how precious the small town feel is. Everyone literally knows everyone. Yesterday, Train (I call Trina Train sometimes...) took me to this square of cute little shops. We went into this bookstore... mistake number one.... you just can't take Shai into a bookstore that has not only a ton of books, but a ton of perfect, wonderful, brilliant used books in the back for discount prices. I just love to read. Anyway, we looked at the bibles, which were of no charge. I got one, because I like having bibles with different translations. I like to compare. Anyway, I looked at one Bible, and told Trina, "Trin, I think it's so cool to have a Bible that belonged to someone else. See their notes, things they underlined...."

She looked over my shoulder at the name in the front and said, "Oh. Don. I know him. He goes to my church."

And not only that, we saw him at the football game last night. And passed his house a few times. This is a small town people. It's adorable.

So the tale of the bookstore concluded with me buying a few books. I had to. And Trina bought one too, and we're gonna read it together. So it's ok. It's worth spending money if it's going to end up in quality time with your roommate. One fo Trina's love languages. We speak each others' so well. It's so cute.

Anyway, last night was Trevor's football game. Trina's brother. Number 23. That kid is fast. Two touch downs. He's a beast. Tonight we're going to a Nebraska game. Im excited.

Sing to me

This is one of those times that an understood silence would find a happy home. The times when something utterly overwhelming, and beautiful leaves you speechless. The times you have nothing intelligent to offer the air.

As a songwriter, I love to write songs to my Jesus. I love to sing to Him, to play with melodic prayers. The pressures of my fingers on black and white keys that throw themselves with abandon onto strings that vibrate into perfect sounds. The feeling of strumming a line of six strings with my fingers tightened across the neck of my guitar to hum an ache my voice never could.

Then, there are the times I cannot share even the beginnings of.... when God writes to me. I contemplate how to write a song to Him, but then He literally puts a melody in my head, words under the lead of my pencil, and a progression that fits perfectly.

Whitney and I have written about 13 songs together or so in the last year. Strangely enough, we haven't gotten around to writing together again this semester until tonight. Tonight, I sat before my desk, wanting to wash my face, and end the day with sweet slumber. My eyes have been pleading for me to do just this. However, my head was wide awake and I didn't want to surrender to sleep just yet. Whitney then popped up on my computer screen saying she wanted to write a worship song.

So I popped next door to her room with my song writing journal, my quiet time notebook, and my bible. And a sweatshirt. I've been freezing all night. Whitney has been playing guitar all day, much to my ease and delight. The sounds that come from a guitar, as Caleigh would say, are equivalent to the reckless love in an embrace from someone you love. It massages your heart. The way I will follow someone to the ends of the earth if they play with my hair... it's the same way the strings of a guitar are to my ears.

Whitney and I caught up with each other. We had a few things we hadn't told each other from the last few days. We found ourselves echoing the aches in each other's hearts. We're both in very similar situations with a few things. She started playing again, playing to the emotions of our conversation. We sat across from each other on her black futon. And at first, it really wasn't coming.

Then it did. And literally wiped us out. I stopped singing. She stopped playing. I couldn't sing anymore. The words I had just written down... the melody I had just sung... the chords that fit like we shared the same fingers attached to the same brain... a song was just written to us. And we were broken by it.

Whitney started playing again. I had to wipe my eyes, covered and closed. I sang in my head and slowly started again. Whitney added her perfect harmony. And we worshipped.

It's not done yet. But it will be soon.

I have a new prayer. I never really thought of it this way... but I'm going to start asking God to write songs to me.

I've never had a song written to me by someone I'm in love with until tonight. How precious, how unearthly... I love to write love songs to the Lord. But it's entirely dumbfounding when the opposite happens. When He writes one to me.

I'm broken by this love. The love that ties up my tongue and makes rivers inside my eyes, and closes up my throat because it's too good to be true. And in the midst of pain and uncertainty, and heartache, His Love makes it all go away.

So I'm going to pray. I want my Love to write songs to me. And I want those songs to be the songs that fill my head, the ones I sing while I'm walking to and from class. The ones I sing while I'm drifting to sleep. And I mean this in both the theoretical sense and the literal sense. I'm a songwriter. But I want the One who created the very idea to write songs to me. It's a bold request. And it's a quest I'm willing to make.

Face plant

This is my 100th blog! Crazy man, just crazy.

I feel like I should blog about something spectacular. We'll see where this blog goes.

Friday was the first Chamber Singers performance. We loaded the buses with the twenty of us, and drove to Indianapolis. For a few hours I shared the same time zone as my friends and family back in Jersey!
Yesterday Trina and I had a roommate date. To the lounge. We had over two pounds of crunchy green grapes and cuddled up in a green blanket and watched Glee. It was wonderfully relaxing. Utterly magnificent.
This week Trina and I set out for Nebraska! Trina is from Nebraska and we're going to visit her family, go to a few football games, and explore corn fields. I've never been to Nebraska. I can't wait to live it up.

Today marks exactly one month since I've been here. I'm not sure about which direction to toss my thoughts. Has time gone slow, or has it gone fast? I'd say a little of both maybe. I'll straddle the line. I'm on the fence. Though there are moments the picket fence snaps on me and I feel time is going way too fast, and not a thought at all to time dragging it's feet... I've been pondering this a little bit lately.

One of my good friends here shared a testimony in church a few weeks ago. He's different. There's something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but he just seemed different. And it all made sense why... it's too big to fit under my finger. God really changed him over the summer. He shared how it happened over about three weeks or so. His challenge to the congregation was, "Don't doubt something because it happened fast. I'm proof that God can do a lot in nearly no time."

Hmmm... it seems so noble to listen to the "good things take time" proverb. We grind these principles into our skin like sand paper. Slow and steady wins the race, but fast and furious falls on his face. Who started that? Who ever, ever, ever said that God works in time restrictions, or only in long stretches? God works apart from time. All the time. We just keep track of it. But time doesn't exist with God. It's just the only way we know how to make sense of things. That's major. We trace God on a timeline, because it's the only way we can make a calculation.

We're limited. Time sticks to us. But if we were to throw a sticky time-ball (I'm making this up. Work with me.) at God, it wouldn't stick. We live so under the impression that time sticks to everything, and forget we serve a timeless God. Everything we touch sticks to time. Like the slime never leaves our hands, and comes through our fingers like oil through our pores after sleeping for 12 hours. If only that weren't such a distant memory...

So here's to say a lot is happening in my life. But it's not too fast. It's just in God's "timing" which is not comparable to ours. The only way I'd fall on my face pedaling to the pace of His time, is if I leave my shoelaces untied.

So I leave you with this. Tie your shoes. And don't be afraid.

Jubilus

Tonight was the first Vespers that our team led worship. I am utterly unable to describe it. To say "Ya had to be there" is cheap and over-used. But I don't think I can find words that come close to describing what cannot be described.

Freedom in worship is something that changes people. Looking out from the stage and seeing so much desperation and freedom in our worshiping student body... I'm seriously just stupid right now. I can't find words.

All I wanted to do tonight was scream. Make it louder. I can't sing loud enough. I can't play loud enough. I wanted to jump higher. Shout with everything I've got and everything I didn't even have. I didn't care. I had so much energy flowing it was dumbfounding.

I blogged a few weeks ago about worship requiring all of our hearts but not always all of our energy. I'm still stickin to that story. But there are times when the Spirit is just moving... you better get outa the way or you're going down. So much energy in the Spirit. It cannot be contained within us. No wonder David lost his mind and worshipped like a fool! It's more that he lost HIS mind, and become only existent with the Mind of Christ. The Mind of God... I guess Christ wasn't there at that point in history. But eventually, we just lose our own minds, and are only filtered through the mind of God.

Tonight was the first time I felt entirely unneeded as a worship leader. Those worshippers I was "leading" were going to worship no matter what I did. If I didn't sing a note, they'd still sing. They'd still be jumping around, they'd still be shouting praises to the Lord. They'd still be weeping and shouting in worship. I was completely stunned, and released in such joy in worship. There was no line between the "worship leaders" and "everyone else." We were all worshippers. We worshipped together tonight. How earth shakingly amazing. I am stunned.

And so I write this blog while breaking from studying for Music in Worship... huge exam tomorrow. I've been studying my life away the past few days, and I still don't think I'm there. Much to be done, and it is indeed past 1 am. Tomorrow will be a busy, crazy and hectic day. I think it will be a good one, but it's gonna be slow going getting to the more restful parts. Chamber Singers set out for Indianapolis at 1:30 pm... I have to be all prettied up with hair and make up and a dress for the 5 hour drive. Oooooo la la!!

Oh man... but God is so good. I guess I better get back to studying how people back in the Middle Ages used to express the same thing we did tonight at Vespers... I could use some of that Jesus energy right now... But fear not. The weekend is near. Again I say rejoice.

PS. My title Jubilus means "rejoicing." Augustine used this term for the type of chant singing that was characterized by the musical extension of the final syllable of "The Allelujah." Think Gregorian chant. I've been studying all of this, and it's interesting to note that scholars believe that this "Jubilus" music may have been a result of the "outpouring of the Holy Spirit" and "singing in tongues." After tonight at Vespers, this title seemed more than appropriate.

That is so inappro... I'm so sorry i didn't know!

Only at a Christian college do you struggle with not judging the young overly affectionate freshmen lovebirds only to find that they're in fact, married.

That's my thought for the day.

Lactose intolerant

Today I went to the Prayer and Meditation chapel. We have 36 chapel credits we need to get every semester... and with my schedule, I often opt to take a nap during the chapels on Mondays Wednesdays and Fridays to catch up on actually functioning after my first class. So this new thing, a Prayer and Meditation chapel at 1:30-2:20 every Tuesday, is excellent. Excellent indeed.

The requirement is staying for a minimum of 30 minutes. I figure, hey that's pretty easy. I brought my Bible and a notebook, and slipped in. Everyone was scattered in the pews of Luzader chapel, the tiny chapel in the Whitlock Music Center. I took a row more towards the front. I didn't see any open rows, and it seemed like each person would kinda claim one for themselves.

I opened my Bible, amazed at the nearly see-through-thin pages. You'd think I had two cookie sheets and was banging them together like a toddler in the middle of a kitchen adventure while mom's on the phone. The room was so quiet. After it was done intimidating me, it welcomed me softly. I accepted it's gentle invitation to exist within it. Once I found my place in my Bible:)

I finished reading Romans. I usually read about a chapter or so when I read my Bible. Sometimes I'll read only half or something if I just need to wait and soak through a smaller passage. But in the openness of having perfect uninterrupted time, I read through a lot more than I usually do.

I continued into 1 Corinthians. Chapter 3 verse 2 says, "I gave you milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for it. Indeed you are still not ready."

I felt God kinda nudge me, asking me what I only receive in "milk form." The things I only tip toe around hearing or doing or learning.

Then there are the areas in my life I won't receive even if it's "milk."

As far back as I can remember, there are only a few drinks I could never down. I love water. I've always loved water. It's the only thing my parents would give me as a kid. Now it's the only thing that can cure my thirsty mouth. I didn't love soda, but I'd tolerate it every so often. Juice was pretty good. But milk? Gross. Never. Unless it was in my cereal, or added to chocolate syrup. That's how I like it.

I think I still do that. When God tries to gently, slowly speak to me about something, I won't even take the "milk" unless there's some chocolate in there too.

My point is, sometimes even in the most non-intimidating forms, we can't accept certain things.

So this is something God's taking me through. It's not always a matter between milk and solid food. Sometimes it's about whether or not I can even stomach the milk He gives me.

And so the journey continues with my bitter tongue and the things I must learn to like. I blame my parents and their own picky tastes. As far as my faith goes, blame doesn't satisfy any excuse with what God has to say to me. Sometimes with God I try to reason I'm not just gluten intolerant, but lactose intolerant. Whew buddy...

My conclusion is I really like the Prayer and Meditation chapels. I think I'll keep going.

Giddy Up

And now, what you all have been waiting for, an update on my life.

We're going on being back at Gville almost four weeks! Since the first few days it's felt like weeks and weeks. Now I feel like everything is finally settling, and four weeks feels pretty good. This week I have a few tests, which is good. It's good, because it motivates me. It gives me something to work for.

Yesterday I sang the national anthem for a volleyball game. It was really an awesome experience-- singing the Star Spangled Banner on September 11th. Very cool.

At this point, my classes have been pretty easy. I keep feeling like this year is way too easy so far. I've geared up for it being the most intense and crazy two semesters academically... but so far it's not too ridiculous. I've of course been practicing hours and hours for my Senior Recital though. It's not till February 26th, but my my my... so much much much to be done before then. I'm really excited about it when I'm not nervous about it. I have to pass some juries and everything to even be approved to give the recital. If I don't pass.... I'm not even going to go into that thought. I'm graduating in the Spring, and that's the end of that.

Anyway, I have my accompanist, and we're already set for weekly rehearsals. This is good. I need to have things planned. Me and my list writing has never been so extensive. I have lists written for the next five months! Sort of anyway... at least I have a lot planned out until the recital.

I'm so thankful for Zach. He's gonna be playing with me for a few of my songs. Getting together and practicing with him is so second nature. I hardly feel like it's work when we get going. We have a practice tonight with Mike, who's singing Superhuman with me. How cool is that... I actually get to sing Superhuman by Chris Brown and Keri Hilson! We're completely redoing the song. It's normally very different than how we're doing it. We're adding guitars and a viola, violin, and string bass. And a piano. But it won't be led by piano. Oh, and some kind of percussion, though we're still exploring that at the moment. Bottom line: we're getting innovative. And I am so exited. We're planning on performing it Tuesday for a vocal studio class ( everyone in my voice studio under my voice prof sings for the "class" of other voice students), and then performing it next Tuesday for the first student recital of the year. No strings added yet. We're just figuring it all out so far.

I'm still figuring out a lot of stuff for the recital. But I like to think it's coming along. I have five months. But about a month of those five will be back in Jersey. Not quite a full month, but that's kinda scary to be so close to the recital and not practicing with everyone.

As you can see, I am well ahead of myself. I suppose that will pay off in the end. Crossin' muh fingas!

This coming Wednesday is the All College Hike. We basically walk five miles. In the middle of the street. It's not a hike. It's a cute idea to call it one, but it's not. I will go. For extra credit. I have not one school day a week that I sleep in. Between tutoring a ton, and early morning classes, I really don't sleep in the morning. Trina and I go to bed at pretty reasonable hours though. So far:)

This Thursday is the first time our Vespers band is playing! We're extremely excited. We practice every Monday night, and I think we're gonna be really solid. Our team has bonded a lot, and we even have a new player. Steven Wallace, who I know as "Knives." He's playing bass. Jay is now our electric guitarist. Whoo! Anyway, we're really excited for that.

Friday I am off to Indianapolis with Chamber Singers. It's my first trip and performance being in Chambers. For this, I am very excited. Being in Chambers has really challenged me so far. It's hard to sight read with only a few other people singing your part. Slightly terrifying. But completely awesome.

I feel like this week is going to go back rather quickly. I'm ok with that. I like time to move. It frustrates me when it drags.

So I'm pretty much in a happy place with life I suppose. There are of course many things going on that I have not mentioned. But life is good.

A reason life is good at the moment, is I finished a song yesterday. It was actually some what of a long time coming. I usually pound it out all at once till I get it and got it right. But this one took a while longer. And it didn't even frustrate me that it took me over a week. I changed it so many times. But I'm happy with it now.

And! I just got back from the practice rooms. In between practicing Danza Danza (one of my Italian pieces) and Plasir d'Amour (my French piece) for my recital, and practicing a few songs for keyboard ensemble, I started a new song. I'm actually completely in love with it already. And as strange as it is for me, I only have a chorus. I usually start with verses. So, I'm excited. It feels so good to have the juices flowing. Lately it's been this way... I go a few weeks sort of just absorbing. Then the songs nearly write themselves. It's like the weeks I go without writing a song are times I just gather and gather. Then when the songs come, it's just reaching into the grab bag and putting the pieces together. So much to grab from.

So this has been Listen to Me Talk about My Life with Shaina Williams. God is doing so much in me... not much time to break and even catch my breath and count each thing He's already done. It's all just piling up. I'm doing my best to keep on going, but it's been fast. And like I said, I have no problem with that. Giddy up.

What the?!

When I was a kid, I remember going to a homeschool co-op one day, and realizing what I wanted to be when I grew up: an archaeologist. I'm not sure what it was that convinced me this was the greatest thing I could possibly do with my life. But I was decided. I would do it.

That day at co-op, we went sorting through sandboxes and piles of dirt, and retrieved what the teachers called "bones." We collected them, examined them, dusted them off. These were incredible pieces of history! It was up to us to find where they came from. It was our job to hold on to the pieces so we could put them all together in the end to build something.

It was serious business. I was inspired.

It would have been a very different experience if I found a "bone" and tossed it out into the street saying, "What the?! This is just dried up play dough!"

But I didn't. I walked away from that day, remembering it some 15 years later. Even though I ended up (so far) just a music major, I never forgot that day.

There are times I examine my heart. Sometimes I find pieces. Broken pieces. Sometimes I toss them out into the "street," out of my mind, because they're just dried up pieces of past dreams.

Sometimes I find things I didn't look for. Sometimes I find myself holding on to something I wish would let go of me so I can move on. I try to maintain the spaces in my heart the same way I do my dorm room. I want to keep it clean. When I look for a textbook, I want to know where to find it. When I search my heart to make a decision, I want to know what's even going on in there. I don't want distractions. I don't want paintings of past hurts or frustrations to decorate the walls. I want it clean, pure.

So what do I do when I find something I can't seem to get rid of? What if I get frustrated because I feel there is no place for this "bone" in the project at hand? Sometimes I decide I couldn't possibly use a certain piece to build something. I figure that out right away, and get rid of it.

You know, I could do that. I don't have to inspect the pieces I find. I don't need to dust them off, and examine what they are, where they've been, and where they'll go. I could do that. But I don't think that's what God intends for us to do. For some reason, I think God made humans and dogs very differently. Dogs are the ones that bury bones. We're the ones who build with them.

I mean, let's face it. Some dogs are doggone cute. But we need to stop burying the bones.

I've been questioning God about some things. I keep going back to Him with a few bones and saying, "Hahhh, cheeyeah. Don't know why I'm still holding these..." I say it apologetically. As if when I come before the Lord and He sees what's in my hands and says, "What the?!" I get shy about it. I joke about it. It's like I touch a piece of paper and it sticks to my hand. I hide it accordingly behind my back, and then someone reaches out to shake my hand. Busted.

I read Romans 12 earlier this week. Verse 12 says,

"Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer."

I was convicted. When I find another stinkin' bone from the dirt floors of my heart, it's ok. And it's ok I'm not a dog. I don't have to go dig up a hole and hide it in the backyard so the squirrels don't get their filthy little hands on it. And more importantly, it's ok to dust it off. Examine it. Inspect it. And hold on. Hold on and be joyful in hope that it will fit into the grand scheme of things God has not given up on in my life. Hold on and be patient in affliction, even when I try time and time again to put the pieces together when the brilliant wall I tried to build looks more like a walrus. Hold on and be faithful in prayer, even when it makes me cry myself to sleep, and hate the mere breath I breathe.

So I've decided something. I might still want to be an archeologist after all.

Veni Spiritum Sanctum

This weekend was the Choir Retreat 2010 at Durley Camp. We sing seemingly nonstop for 24 hours, and are introduced to our 2010-2011 calendar for the Greenville College Choir. We go through every song on the Tour program, as well as almost everything else in our bulging folders.

Several of our songs this year are absolutely gorgeous. I'm so excited to learn them all, and be able to sing them memorized, and with all I've got. I'm a Soprano 1. This means-- for those of you lost at that statement-- I'm the one that leaves you with bleeding ears. Well, me and the other S1's. I love singing high notes. Sometimes I feel like I'm really not giving music my all unless it's super high and takes all my breath and energy.

That's how I feel. That's how I feel about a lot of things. It kind of struck me this weekend. Worship doesn't always take all of my energy. But it does take all of my heart.

In so many of our songs this weekend, I felt the Holy Spirit wash over me. Like He was pulling worship out of me. Stilling me. Quieting me. I was completely overwhelmed in the sense of Him. What's interesting though, is I wasn't even singing. I had hardly sung a note. And the notes I did sing were rather soft. And rather low. I had used nearly no energy at all. Yet that was when I felt Him tugging me into worship. How can that be? I was hardly doing anything. But He was pulling my heart. He was pulling my heart into worship.

We don't always focus on worshipping with our hearts. In so many ways, I never even consider it. I spend so much energy and focus on worshipping with all of my energy, when energy is only one facet of worship. We don't always worship with our hearts. But God blesses our worship anyway.

I'm talking about the moments you feel tingles down your neck like the Holy Spirit is smoothing His breath down from over our heads. The moments we pull in a shaky breath, completely stilled and overwhelmed. Basking in the moment. In the Spirit.

We get carried away with a lot of things. Things like lights, and sound. Our own voices. Our music. Who's next to us. Who's behind us. Who's in front of us raising her hands when we know what she did last night. Who's on stage when we know the attitude he had towards that other guy in the back. Even with waiting to feel the "tingle" or whatever. We get wrapped up in certain expectations too.

God is such a good God. He is just, but He is also Kind and Gracious. He meets with us, and gives us a sense of His Spirit moving among us, and in us, even when we don't bring ourselves to Him with the right heart.

It's so necessary to train ourselves to respond to His Spirit as soon as we sense it. To quiet our minds, and tune in to His. When we feel the "tingles", or feel Something wash over us and pull tears to the front of our eyes... be still. Invite the Holy Spirit to come and minister to you. Worship with a still, and humble heart, receiving all that He's giving. Sometimes it will take all of our energy. Sometimes you'll need to gasp for air. But sometimes, you won't.

Worship is something we'll only get a glimpse of this side of eternity. We're still trying to crack the code of how to "really" worship. But how incredible is it that God still gives us something for trying! He gives us more and more of His presence. He inhabits and receives our broken worship. He is so good. He is so kind.

I want my spirit to constantly be praying, "Come Holy Spirit." Veni Spiritum Sanctum. I want to continuously be seeking His Spirit. In everything. Come Holy Spirit.

Nursery rhymes

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me. Oh be careful little mouth what you say. If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.

Little riddles and rhymes about the words we say find their way into children's books, and songs. We remember the phrases our parents would hammer into us from as early as we can remember. Why all this mess? Why do we engrain such morals into toddlers?

Without realizing it, the world has hit it good. Words are powerful.

I've been noticing something lately. I've been noticing how vibrantly different people are when they speak words of Life into others, as opposed to those who do not. Consider how Jesus spoke. He spoke words of Life into the people who listened to Him. He spoke words of no condemnation, but words of peace, words of love, and words of joy. He spoke Life. His Spirit was that of Life. Life ruled Him. And He therefore, exuded Life into everything He did.

It makes sense if you think about it. In some ways it's easy to discern how genuine a person is by the way they speak. By the essence of their words. There is undeniable Life in words that come from a mouth that speaks words from a heart that is overwhelmed in Christ.

There was a time in my life I struggled with confidence in certain areas. A good friend of mine called me out on it. The words spoken were good words. They were correct. They hit the nail on the head. But they were not words of Life. Instead of feeling set free and safe in the recognition, I felt paralyzed, tormented. I felt like a child playing hide and seek, and getting caught before he found his hiding place. Ready or not, here I come!

The words spoken to me were words that were true in a sense. But they did not speak Life into me. They came out of a spirit of frustration, and anger. Not peace. Not love. Not Life.

I recognized the difference here when someone else some time later spoke the same thing over me. The words were very similarly spoken. However, there was something very different that occurred in my heart when the words landed in my ears. Instead of feeling caught red handed, I felt released. Freed. Safe. Funny, isn't it?

It became clear to me that words of Life are not just words that are true. They are words spoken from a heart that is pure, and steadfast in the Lord. They are words spoken and thought from a mouth and mind that is overflowing with the Spirit of God. We receive Him more and more into our selves when we constantly seek after Him. We hold more and more of Him when we allow Him to search us and know us, and scrape out the things that don't need to be there. Our intensions can be great. They can be fantastic! But it doesn't mean our words will always be words of Life. They only can be if we're already filled with the Life that comes from Jesus Christ. And it works the other way around too. We don't even intend to minister Life to people sometimes... but we still do.

When God created mankind, He breathed into us the Breath of Life. When Jesus walked the earth, He told us He is the Way the Truth and the Life. How powerful it is that when we are filled with His Life, we exude Life (HIM) into everything we do, everything we say, and everything we think! How powerful it is to guard even our thoughts! It's beyond me that even our thoughts exude something. And it's either Life, or it's not.

So when we speak, let's speak words of Life, allowing the Holy Spirit to examine our hearts, and our intensions before we speak. When we think, let's think thoughts of Life, so that our spirits and our hearts minister peace constantly to everyone around us. When we speak, let's not catch anyone red handed. Let's not even let anyone play hide and seek. No one should have to hide from Life. Let's leave the hiding to the Enemy, and the seeking to our hearts after God's. And let's make a nursery rhyme outa that one!