Lindsay told me I needed to update my blog. Well, I aim to please, so here’s an update. Unfortunately, it is late, and I am not in a good frame of mind for cheery “whassup-here’s-what-I’ve-been-up-to” posting, so solemn, rambling, really long introspection will have to do. It’s just that kind of day. Emotionally draining… though I didn’t realize fully how much until it was over.
I honestly don’t know how much coverage there was outside the world of Christian music and radio, but on Wednesday afternoon, singer/songwriter Steven Curtis Chapman lost his youngest daughter Maria in a tragic accident. You don’t have to be a parent, and you don’t have to be a fan or an acquaintance of this family to realize how horrible this is… there is no explanation, and there are no words in the face of a loss like this. (More information is at Steven’s website.)
I suppose it hits especially hard because he was the headlining performer for the big Memorial Day event being hosted by the radio station I work at. With only 3 days until the show, things were definitely buzzing around my office all day… alternate plans being worked out and such. And overall, just a heavy, solemn feeling.
It wasn’t until the day was over that I was finally able to process it all and hurt and cry for this family. I don’t know them, and honestly, I haven’t truly known the intense, real pain of loss yet. I can’t begin to imagine the immense heartbreak in losing a child.
But I know this. That life is a mysterious, beautiful, fragile gift, and sometimes we forget that far too easily. I know I do.
I’ve thought about frailty all day… life is just one big paradox really. It is strong. But it also so very weak, so fragile to the touch. We do everything we can to stay alive, and sometimes we even live like we’re invincible and immortal… and yet it can be over so fast. (I guess that also explains the mild freak-out I had braking in the rain today… yes, almost a year later, and the sight of random brake lights from a very large vehicle in front of me still gets my blood pressure up a bit.) You just can’t tell with these things.
But it makes me so glad that I have something to hold onto… that I believe that there is a God that actually loves and cares about us enough to be with us when things get so hard, that gives us one shot at this gift of life, and that is constantly working things out, making something beautiful out of messy people in the tragic world we live in.
And sometimes… that’s just enough to get by. Hope makes life okay.
Tonight I slipped Jon Foreman’s Fall EP in the CD player and drove home under an overcast, drizzly sky. I confess, sometimes the commute can get a little lonely, and you really just need the appropriate melancholy folk soundtrack to make a gray day beautiful. I love this music because he sounds so weary sometimes, but he sings like he means it, and as I listened to these songs, I thought about how very precious and short these days are, and how they make me want to laugh more often, love a little stronger, and hope a lot more than despair.
And it’s enough. Thank God, sometimes it’s more than enough.