I’ve been listening to lots of old CDs lately. It started a few weeks ago when I watched Ragamuffin; afterwards I pulled out all my Rich Mullins CDs and started appreciating them again. That led to David Wilcox… Michael Kelly Blanchard…. Steven Delopolous… and last night- Chris Rice.
He has this one CD. Man. I’d completely forgotten what was on it when I pulled it out this morning – it’s a simple little song he calls Untitled Hymn. (Click the link if you want to listen.)
I got this CD sometime around Malin’s first birthday when all was right in my world. I had a wonderful husband, two fun little boys, and now a beautiful daughter to make our family complete. I always expected to have all boys – giving birth to daughters was a beautiful and surprising gift. It gave a little boost of joy to the whole parenting thing. At the time, this verse of his Untitled Hymn described my life perfectly:
Oh, and when the love spills over
And music fills the night
And when you can’t contain the joy inside…. then
Dance for Jesus, dance for Jesus
Dance for Jesus and live!
I hear those words and I’m back in our old living room, twirling around and around with sweet Malin cuddled in my arms until we’re both laughing and dizzy. Life is perfect and fun and I’m thrilled to be the mother of this stunning little girl.
But just before that joyous verse of the song is this one:
Sometimes the way is lonely
And steep and filled with pain
So if your sky is dark and pours the rain… then
Cry to Jesus, cry to Jesus
Cry to Jesus and live!
And with those words I’m standing in front of my old kitchen sink, crying so I can’t see the dishes I’m washing because life. is. not. fair. My friend’s son, who was born the day after Malin, and who should be dancing around and laughing with his mama, is gone. Forever. And it doesn’t make any sense that I should be so happy while my friend’s life is falling apart.
It all happened about the same time (and about this time of year) – the Chris Rice CD that played on repeat throughout our home, dancing joyfully in the living room with laughing Malin, and the horrible, sudden death of my friend’s son. This time of year I always think of my friend and the intense changes in her life. Accidentally pulling out Chris Rice intensified the feeling for me this week.
Now, eleven years later, there’s still no way to phrase that story so any of it makes sense or feels fair or justified. It’s just life, right? Only, it’s a lot easier to say that when the hard things are happening in someone else’s life, isn’t it?
Have you ever popped in a CD that brought back a flood of unexpected memories?