Burial Rites + Civil Wars = Haunting Combination

Background check:

I purchased the self-title Civil Wars album a few days ago. Been listening to it non-stop. Not sure about everyone else, but songs follow me around. They linger. And when a room is still, they play over and over in my head.

 

[Dear Civil Wars, y'all are phenomenal. Please reconcile. Love, Alex]

 

 

I also borrowed Burial Rites by Hannah Kent (http://hannahkentauthor.com/) from the library. Didn't know much about it, other than Amazon.com recommended it to me.

Alright where we go.

The past few days, I have felt like this move is killing me. I told Adam that I am physically, mentally, and emotionally spent. We are down to 3 days left in Norman, Oklahoma. I cried at a leaf. I cried at the cat. I cried at a picture on the refrigerator. Seriously people, something cracked inside of me. Later, when some form of rational and sense came back to me, I chalked all this mess up to sleep-deprivation.

But before that award-winning discovery, I decided to escape. Escape to Iceland in fact.

Reading is my most potent form of escape from reality. TV is quick, but books have so much more depth. So in the midst of my emotional turmoil, I picked up Burial Rites and fell into 19th century Iceland. Which now I think is oddly funny because Oklahoma has been covered in snow and ice for over a week now (this is super rare y'all), and I am moving to Colorado, land of snow.

But anyway, as I previously mentioned, the Civil Wars album was lingering in my head and in the silence of reading, those songs surfaced. IT WAS AMAZING (my use of all-caps in minimal so this must be really important).

Those songs not only have lyrics that mesh with the book, but the feelings that rise for the music itself is hauntingly beautiful. It all swirled together and created this alternate world for me to live in and ignore real life. It also means that days after finishing the book, I FEEL the characters. I hear their songs. The Civil Wars songs that spoke the feeling of the characters' hearts.

Examples:

A woman falls for a man whom locals call the devil or sorcerer. She falls for him hard and comes to see the darkness inside him but still clings to him like he is the only one who gives life (very Heathcliff and Catherine-esque). And the track, "Devil's Backbone" kept moving through my mind as I read about this love story. I could see and hear the woman in the story singing with me.

The same woman does eventually come to hate the man she fell for... the track, "One Who Got Away" is too similar and parts of the song sound so desperate and tense - exactly like a woman who wishes this man was "the one who got away" and not the one who stays.

"Dust to Dust," is another track that gently floats through different parts of the book. When characters are lonely, or when they die. Very simple and powerful.

Enough examples. Just promise me that if you intend to read Burial Rites, you give the CD a listen first. Also you should read Burial Rites! It sticks with you, and those books are my favorite kind.

In the Thick and Thin : Seeing Goodness

We are in the thick of things (the thin of things). Adam is currently re-sheet rocking the kitchen ceiling. And yes things have already come crashing through and there is dust everywhere.

Have I mentioned that I am allergic to dust? .

Thanks Si. Now I have realized that on top my normal sneezing, I am also brain sneezing.

Y'all my head hurts. And not just from breathing dust. In the thick of this move, the Marshes are wearing thin. So thin we are almost see-through. As in, Adam can see right through my comments shrouded in sarcasm and annoyance. We are stressed with all the ins and outs of moving.... and unfortunately we are spewing out some frustrations on each other. We are both guilty.

I'm reading The Greatest Gift by Ann Voskamp (http://www.aholyexperience.com/) for Advent. And of course God is using this book in simple, every-day ways. Today she writes about the tattered edges of Josephs beautiful robe as a picture of his life. There is a tattered thinness to his life, the sold into slavery by brothers and sent to prison. But even Joseph sees through the thin into the goodness of God. He says to his brothers, "You intended to harm me but God intended it all for good. He brought me to this position so I could save the lives of many people." Genesis 50: 17-20

I'm praying today that God helps me see through the tattered thin pieces of my life and into what is good. What God intended. He always intends good. I forget that sometimes...

Sometimes I feel like He is punishing me, but all punishment happened at the cross. I receive the payment for my sins no longer (consequences, yes, but not punishment). If I still think my sins need punishing today, then I am telling Jesus that His death wasn't enough.

But that is the lie and I remind myself of the truth. God intends all things for my good. Even in the blood-stained, torn-up robe of Joseph. So what are my tattered edges? My estranged brother whom I love and for whom I hurt so deeply. The upcoming loss of all my beloved friends through this move. The painful moving logistics that are slicing into friendships and dividing hearts. The ceiling is literally crashing down.

Where is the good? Honest : I'm not sure I see it yet. But that's the faith bit right? I trust that God intends good and His character is forever good and the goodness is the depth of the ocean and truly truly truly... His is grace is sufficient. His grace is sufficient enough for my tattered heart to honestly whisper, "He is good to me." Even when the world says my life is a torn-up mess. He is good to me. He gave me His son. He gave me Jesus. And Jesus claims me as His own.

"Out of the stump of David's family will grow a shoot." Isaiah 11:1

And out of the stump of my tattered-thin life, will grow hope.

Soul-Mingling : Skin to Skin

Skin-to-skin contact is essential to my well-being. You don't need to whip out the latest scientific research to convince me. No lecture on the brain chemistry related to touch. I feel it and that is enough. The best description I have for this feeling: my soul seeps through the pores and mingles with the other soul connecting with me. It's emotional. Intimate. Vital.

 

Thanks to the move and all its associated impacts, my nerves are fried. My brain is fried. I'm living in the Texas State Fair of fried. And it makes me one irritable mess. HOWEVER, the most amazing thing happens when Adam comes home. If I can snag him before he moves onto a To-Do list, we hug. I always, always, always, find the crook of his neck, and smother my face with it. I force him to hold me for at least a minute. This quiet minute of pore-to-pore, skin-to-skin, relaxes me and some of frazzled tension melts.

 

The "Love Languages" quiz never prepared me for the importance of physical touch (http://www.5lovelanguages.com/). But I know I felt an inkling of this phenomenon before marriage.

 

My mom was the champion of playing with my hair, and I melted.

My nana always "tickled" my little back with her finger nails and melted me into sleep.

My tru(est) friend rubbed my feet after a rough day, and I melted.

 

And when Adam runs his fingers over my face, all the mess and fried fair fare, leaves. My mind is set free. My soul softens and connects. There is something so mystical about skin-to-skin and God had a reason. In my world, the reason is to keep me from becoming a fried ball of stress.

So even in the midst of packing and arranging moving dates, Adam and I are finding time for this soul-connection. He is the knight in shining armor who rubs my (smelly) feet without complaint. He is cuddle bug that lets me be the big spoon at night (it's the best). And I am thankful. This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for the man who brings me out of future worries and calls my soul out to play.