Music Wars...

You may have heard me mention that every so often, the kiddo and I end up in a music battle.  We take our tunes very seriously in these parts and while we share similar tastes, there are days the mood hits and one of us just can’t help goading the other about a particular song choice.  Such was the case this morning.  I had the tunes cranked while making my bed; a chore I DETEST and would never do it if the hubster didn’t appreciate it.  Talk about Felix and Oscar!  As a result, on days I make the bed, I usually turn up the music to ease the pain. 

The kiddo couldn’t resist commenting on Natalie La Rose’s Dance with Somebody as he stepped in to my room and snagged the speaker, promptly redirecting the Bluetooth to play something called Lean On by Major Lazer.  “That song is so last summer,” he offered to my Natalie choice.

“And this song is so awful,” I countered a minute later as I looked over at him as if to say 'find some taste' and regained control of the speaker, only to hit him with DJ Snake and the Biebs crooning Let Me Love You.

“You don’t play fair,” he smiled as he started to bop before grabbing the other side of the comforter I was wrestling in an effort to help.  “You and I both know no one can resist the Biebs.”

The World Gets to Me...

Some days I can take the things that happen around me in stride.  I can rationalize that I’m here and such and such is happening over there, or that a given hardship befalls someone else but me and mine are fine so life must go on...

But on other days…  On days like today…  I’ve just got to be honest--the world gets to me.

When I hear about a mother who throws her infant from the 10^th story of a 26-story apartment fire, the world gets to me.

When I see a picture of grown men praying on a baseball field, the world gets to me.

Have you ever held a wholly innocent and helpless infant in your arms?  Now close your eyes and try to imagine being in a situation so desperate you’d throw that baby out a window because you knew to the core of your being your last breath could be counted on one hand and the window was the last hope for life before death prevailed. 

Have you ever reached across the aisle and come together to support the greater good?  Now imagine diving on top of people you spend an inordinate amount of time trying to best in the nine to five realm in an effort to shield them from the gunfire whizzing past.  Imagine praying for the people you were trying to discredit and crush in yesterday’s meeting.

The sad truth is that we live in a world where it’s becoming all too common to only expect the best of humanity to emerge when tragedy knocks down a given door.  This isn’t the world I grew up in and it’s not the world I want the kiddo to inherit.  The same kiddo who wants to make it to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. one day and might very well get to play in that baseball game along the way. 

The world gets to me on days like today because it shouldn’t take headlines to remind us of how we ought to love, and hope, and protect, and pray for one another.  We greatly cheapen ourselves when we only allow our best to show up in the face of the horrific.  By only reacting to tragedy, we rob ourselves the opportunity to make a difference in the everyday.

I want the people in my life to love me like the mom in the window; enough to help me see a way when I lose hope. 

I want the people in my life to love me like the congressional baseball players; enough to hit their knees and call out to God for me even though we disagree and they’d rather write me off.

If you’ve got friends and family you aren’t encouraging today but you’re weeping over the headlines, I don’t want to make you mad but I am calling you out because you’re missing it.

Somebody needs someone to be bold for them today.  Somebody needs someone to call out on their behalf today.  And whether there's a headline for it or not, somebody in your circle needs something only you can provide for them today.  Don’t miss it.

Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't...

In the middle of our walk between art galleries today at a local museum, the kiddo stopped and turned and stood in awe for several moments.  “Do you know these two?” he finally asked quietly.

Maybe I did.  Maybe I didn’t.  What I knew didn’t matter at the moment.  “Why don’t you tell me about them,” I replied instead of answering.

“This is King George III and his wife, Queen Charlotte of Mecklenburg,” he began, and our discussion didn’t end until sometime after I’d learned more about European history and art than I thought I’d ever know and our lunch had moved into dessert and coffee nearly two hours later. 

These are the days he gets to be the tour guide and I get to hang back and soak in all he’s learning.  These are the days I get to listen and stand in awe of all he’s becoming.  These are the days I want to remember.