_______________________

Monday, April 23, 2007


just the five of us


I had myself a little walk Sunday afternoon ... just a quick little 78 minute stroll down the Centennial Trail. Dave was tired from being up at 4:00 a.m. to go over his sermon notes; I took pity on him and insisted he take a nap. He argued only enough to save face. By the time I tied my shoes and put my hand on the front door, snoring drifted from the bedroom. He'll probably love that I shared that.

Dave wasn't with me, but I wasn't alone. I brought along four of my oldest friends. Randy Stonehill. Roby Duke. Billy Crockett. And Michael McDonald, thrown in for good measure.

How did I live before iPods hit the scene?


Randy sang to me about a girl named Rachel Delavoryas, whose violin music drifting from an upstairs window failed to mask the pain of her isolation. I heard, and I remembered wanting to walk those stairs and meet that lonely girl, the first time ... the tenth time ... I heard the story.

Billy pointed out that along the path, whenever my eyes caught the smile of a passing cyclist or walker, unseen lines connected our hearts. And I remembered the summer I sat in my garden with an old thrift-store boom box stretched to its limit, trailing a fat orange extension cord. While I yanked weeds and planted carrots, I rewound "Lines" again and again, because I couldn't believe someone put my thoughts so clearly to music.

Michael ... well, Michael set my pace. What did I remember as he bemoaned the fact that he "keeps forgettin' we're not in love anymore?" I suppose for the briefest of seconds, I remembered eighth grade, when the boy who loved me one week decided he loved the girl across the aisle the next. But I'm 45 now. The sting is gone.


And then Roby walked with me awhile. He called me "friend," just like he did all winter the year I first heard his voice. He sang about the place I long for most, and the fact that when I cross that last bridge on this long journey, I'll find no broken hearts there. And I remembered when my heart was Jesus-new but hurting, because I couldn't reconcile the great chasm between my Savior and His Bride. In Roby's words, I found strength to believe that truth was truth, and no matter who hurt me here, my healing would be found there.

I didn't want to turn for home. I didn't want to risk leaving my mood somewhere along the trail, lost in the stink weed, unseen by the health-seeking masses, forgotten, abandoned. I think I could have walked straight into darkness, except that right in the middle of a verse, my battery died. I actually looked down at the thing, looked back over my shoulder, and thought, Now how am I supposed to get home?

We're all charged up now. And tomorrow afternoon, if the weather holds, I'm thinking the boys and I will head back down the trail. I'm still hankering for yesterday.

Labels:

4 Comment:

At 4/27/2007 11:04 AM, Anonymous Joan had this to say ...

I enjoyed visiting your blog. I'm nearly 30 years past you, and I find I no longer rush to the past, but savor every minute of today. I even find myself not wanting to look back for fear I'll be turned into a pillar of salt. LOL I'll be back to visit and browse soon. Joan

 
At 4/27/2007 1:38 PM, Blogger Macromoments had this to say ...

Shannon, I am way behind on reading my favorite blogs, and want you to know that it was so nice to relax and read an entry from you after all this time. I loved how you worded this:

And I remembered when my heart was Jesus-new but hurting, because I couldn't reconcile the great chasm between my Savior and His Bride."

You have the most beautiful wordflow. Your heart really shows through.

 
At 5/02/2007 8:37 AM, Blogger Cindy had this to say ...

Wow, Shannon...it's been so long since I've heard Roby Duke! We played some of his songs when I first started working at this radio station in the early 80's. I loved him!

I've visited your site before, but it's been a while. I would love to read your books. I do a good bit of reviewing and interviewing of authors on the radio.

Blessings,

Cindy

 
At 8/27/2007 4:17 PM, Blogger Rummy had this to say ...

I saw Randy Stonehill at the Thurston County Fair, and he told about writing Rachel Delavoryas. For all I know the story's available on his website but I'll repeat it.

She was a real person that he went to school with. He worked on the song, and decided to try it out on the audience at a college in California he was performing at.

Unknown to him Rachel's older sister, who he had never met, was in the audience. She called Rachel, asked if she remembered Randy Stonehill from grade school and told her about the song. Of course Randy had no idea this was going on.

A few months later he actually had a chance to meet Rachel again.

 

Post a Comment


Thank you for your kind, loving comment. Um ... you were kind and loving, weren't you?

Back to the home page...