One way God has always spoken to me has been through songs that pop into my head out of the blue. Like, for example, when I was trying my best to reconnect with a friend who no longer wants my friendship, the lyric that kept running through my head all day was, “Cinderella, can’t you see? Don’t want your company. You better leave this morning, leave today. Take your love and your child awaaay…” I hadn’t heard that song since I was ten, so yeah, okay. Thank you, God and Firefall. I finally get the message. [It’s important to note, however, that while I may have finally gotten the message, and am contentedly working out my salvation and all that it entails on my own, my love and my child will be sitting over there on that porch swing, happily waiting to embrace any friends who want to come back and sit with them someday. Love never fails.]
So yesterday afternoon, when I stepped out of the shower, I was tickled to suddenly realize I was hearing this:
Take these broken wings
And learn to fly again
Learn to live so free.
And when we hear the voices sing
The book of love will open up and let us in.
Hey, I’m 46 years old. I try to stay current, but I can’t help it if my musical psyche is stuck a couple decades back. Don’t you judge me. Besides, seriously, I had not heard this song either for a million years! Let’s blame the collective unconscious.
Yesterday I finally found a friend I’d been trying to track for ages, and to my delight some of the songs from the album I’d sung backup on – in 2002 – were posted on her site. When I listened to them I was instantly thrown back into a time that now seems like a dream… A time was when I was a musician, and most of my friends were musicians, and I breathed and lived and had my very Being in music. Scott was a musician too, so our family room was filled with instruments, and our free time was filled with solitary practice, songwriting, and making music with friends. It was such a fruitful time in my life, and when I stumble upon reminders, I get a little nostalgic. Especially when I hear my singing voice, after having silenced it for years… I like how I sounded then: clear and high and clarion, kind of like a mountain girl. It was a nice voice, not anything super special, but serviceable and pleasant.
So what I felt spurred on to do was revisit some of my old cassette tape recordings: songs I’d written years ago and had sung into my little recorder, and later, into a four-track recorder a friend had given me. And I discovered that while I wrote a lot of crap, there were a few songs in there that were pretty good, and one even made me cry because my past “I” was singing encouragement directly to my little old nowadays self. For six hours straight this morning, I listened and labeled and now everything’s categorized, and my heart is full. And I’m okay with no longer being a musician because I’ve moved into other facets of expression and that one’s no longer necessary, except in a personal way, between God and me. I wish I could transfer that one song to this post though, so you could hear it… Wikihow gave me instructions on how to do that, but it looks too complicated and I’m starving because I haven’t had breakfast yet. I’ll check it out later.
Anyway. I was happy to hear Rick Springfield singing about learning to fly again because I felt God applying that to so many areas in my life right now. Not music, necessarily, but just… I don’t know… him for one, and actually, him for all. I loved revisiting my life from five to ten years ago, when those recordings were made, because I was able to see how God has been answering my prayers, my prayers in song form, all this time, even when I thought I had moved away from him. He’s always been there, my first and last love. It was a beautiful way to start my day. Love! xo