10. In A Cappella

There are few things that make me more insecure than hearing the noise of my own voice unaccompanied by a melodious symphony of sounds.

So, when the band ceased the playing of their instruments on Sunday and continued with an A cappella chorus, I paused momentarily, unsure with my voice no longer camouflaged by the thick reverberation from the speakers.

That was, until I heard the most beautiful cacophony of sounds. Voices high and low, on key and off; my brothers and sisters singing in perfect union; so, I unabashedly joined in…

.. Nothing compares to this love, love, love…

Quiet Steps

I recently stumbled upon a song I’ve loved for a long time, one that never really gets old. However, for whatever reason, it felt particularly poignant this time and every time after as I listened to it on repeat. More than once in my life I’ve awoken to find myself in a serious state of disarray, as if someone turned on a light and illuminated just how far I’ve wandered. I know I should be more surprised when the realizations hit. I know I should feel worse but in reality succumbing to guilt isn’t something that I do well.  But it’s different now. I’m in a new stage of life, one that details very little control and extreme vulnerability and it has certainly illuminated my current state of disarray.

I know how I got here, living life one calculated risk at a time mixed in with a compromise or two. The lines of the aforementioned song say it perfectly.

“I don't remember one jump or one leap;
Just quiet steps away from your lead.”

I’ve taken quiet albeit deliberate steps in the wrong direction because frankly it is just easier. It is easier to go with what feels “right” than to be diligent to deciphering the “right” direction. It is easier to shut down the more sensitive sides of myself than to feel disappointment and heartache. So here I stand cold calculated steps away from reality, far from where I want to be and even farther from where I should be.

Call this an admission of guilt of sorts, maybe even a step back in the other direction. The only question I’m left asking myself is, “Is it worth it?” Is the journey back towards reality worth the time of naivety and false assurance? Or would it have been easier to stay put?

Daydream Dancing

This piece began from this prompt, but I don't know that I actually accomplished the objective.


I shouldn’t have listened to that song when it came on the radio. Normally I would turn the station but today I allowed myself to linger.  I was surprised at how quickly I slipped into the routine, the one we perfected on Sunday nights between sweaty bodies on the smoky dance floor. It was as if I could feel your right hand lock into mine and your left one slide around the small of my back. We’d made friends with the band and they would always play our song. When we got good, everyone would clear a circle in the center and watch our choreographed intimacy. They'd clap and whistle when we got to the extra spins and steps we’d added for flair.

I didn’t feel guilty until it got close to the finale; the part where you moved in close and locked your hips to mine, your hands slipping down the front of my thighs as we swayed back and forth to the rise and fall of the melody. Then as the last few bars of the song expired you would dip me low towards the floor and each time we would pause longer than the last, all caught up in each other, the heaviness of the moment. It was always slow motion for me, the rise and fall of my chest as I tried to find my breath and beads of sweat rolling down my collar bone towards the nape of my neck.  You’d pull me up laughing and we would retire to our corner booth, all our energy spent.

It didn’t get much better than that for us. We couldn’t seem to communicate anywhere but the dance floor and our love didn’t last. Maybe it wasn’t even love, but I’m not sure. I shrugged off all my uncertainties as I made my way back to reality. I tried not to feel guilty as I tucked away all the little memories that found their way into my daydream. After all, it was just a dance, just 4 minutes of cha-cha-ing through our yesterdays. 

Track One

Whenever I get together with my “FCA” friends, it is always a joyous event. I call them my FCA friends because it kind of explains how we all know each other. Basically we’re a group of women spread all over the Midwest who love Jesus and each other. We are/were all athletes, most of us college athletes who at some point and time got involved with FCA. During college we would use any excuse to gather together for weekends of ridiculousness, sleepless nights, and worship. Since college our gatherings have gotten fewer and farther between but the quality is still unbeatable. There is still ridiculousness, like when I tipped on our night kayak session. We have all grown quite a bit fonder of sleep but there are still a few late night conversations and even though the nature of our time together has changed there has been one consistent event that occurs at least once when we gather. We worship. KP gets out her guitar and occasionally we throw in a djembe. We sing the usual songs, Come Thou Fount (in southern accent), We are Hungry, and a few others. Then, like clockwork, we harass KP to play her songs, the ones she wrote about life and her family. KP is always a little hesitant. Sometimes all it takes is a request and sometimes we need to slow clap to get her going but my favorite is when we all chant track one. Track one of our favorite playlist. Sure it only consists of three songs and they all have actual titles but we all affectionately remember track one.

The crew minus a few.

Track One has been our anthem of sorts. We sang it at the barn who knows how many times. We sang it the night we gave KK her book, at school street and in the parking lot of UNO. We sang it as we sat in California days before AP’s brain surgery, the day of her wedding. It was particularly poignant that day. As we sat there filled with joy and excitement and fear and anxiety we worshipped. When track one was requested there was no hesitation, smiles spread across all of our faces. KP started up and we sang with a capo so I could sing my comfortable tenor harmony (thanks for coming down an entire octave for me guys). SB made sure to point out that her favorite parts were coming up and we all laughed. I fought the lump in my throat the entire time. I needed track one that day. I needed some consistency, some sort of sign that everything was going to be okay. I needed to hold fast. I love track one and I love the people I sing it with. It is a perfect prayer for me and one that I pray for all of you.

He loves us and has set us free,

From our sins and has made us whole again.

His kingdom reigns on high,

And because of Him we will never die.

Hold fast to the fire in your heart,

Open the door and embrace My love for you,

Walk with Me in garments pure white,

You are worthy to be called a child of Mine.