This week has been better than I could ever have anticipated, and it all began with prayer and a pie.

           Over the past seven days I accomplished two things I've been attempting for quite a while:

     1. Record myself singing Bach's lovely aria "Mein Glaubiges Herze"

     2. Make a non-soupy blueberry pie


               Had it not been for the illness-which-shall-not-be-named, I would certainly not have gotten them done in this season, and perhaps not the next either.





   
                 There is a certain amount of contempt for life and living that I've discovered can creep into my attitude after a while.

          I turn up my nose at staying home and baking a pie when I could be out at a coffee shop editing stories and people watching. I ignore that song I've been wanting to practice for myself to work on a simple audition song I'll be performing for an audience.

       It's a bad position to fall into. I never want to lose the joy of making music for it's own sake, or making a pie just because I can, and yet that was what had happened. I was slowly losing my joy even for my own hobbies but constantly feeding my flesh and humoring myself in the moment.

            At first when everyone started cancelling and places closed left and right, I moped.

           I shut myself up in my room and did very little worthwhile.

             Like an alchoholic drunk on the wine of following my own whims whenever I felt like it, I felt curiously helpless when my drug was taken away.

            Now I had to order my day. I had to do the things I'd been putting off. I couldn't excuse myself by saying I was too busy. Now I had do the uncomfortable things, I didn't feel like doing.

            Heart cannot tell what disgust I developed as I discovered a new level of selfishness and pointed lack of discipline over that first week.

           And then I began to pray.

           Crude, simple prayers at first: Lord, make me better; save me from my own devices.

           Later they became more eloquent: I cannot accomplish any good thing on my own, help me Lord to redeem this time, and bring You glory even through these circumstances.

            Psalm 107 which has always been my anchor became my lifeline:


   
       
            This may not seem like a revitalizing activity to you,  but after not feeling like baking for quite a while, and even as I thought up the idea, not actually wanting to go through with it, I did it and found new life in it.

           Since then, the amount of time I have been spending on "I just feel like it" activities has been steadily reduced and I've been doing more things I knew I should be doing and which my better self heartily desired to do. There's been a certain contagious joy in it.

            After I get over the initial reluctance to do laundry, I find I rather like it. After I can get past the first repulsion to wipe down the bathroom sink counter, I find it strangely satisfying. After I make myself just get up and clean off my dresser, I discover putting things away really is a pleasant activity.


            And so, this afternoon I decided to do another of those things I wanted to do but didn't feel like doing at the moment: Record myself singing "Mein Glaubiges Herze."

          Ever since I learned the piece I knew this was one I would retain in my repertoire for the rest of my life. I love the music and I actually love the way it sounds when I sing it, and so I'd resolved that once I got a hang of it, I'd record it, even if I did have to do it with an accompaniment track rather than a live pianist.

           I'm going to share the finished product with you. I'm afraid it's not perfect and someday I'd still like to record it with a real pianist, maybe for a real audience. However, for the present, this was a good start and excellent practice. Best of all, I thoroughly enjoyed it.

           
      The lyrics are uniquely suited to my situation. First, they're in German so I know what each word means as I sing it, and secondly it's an exhortation to rejoice because Christ is here.

         My faithful heart,
         Rejoice, sing, be merry,
         Your Jesus is here.
         Away with sorrow, Away with lamentation,
        I will simply tell you/say to you
         My Jesus is near.

     And so we should all do whenever we're depressed. Begone sorrow and lamentation for Jesus is here. What better cure for moping, than the King of glory Himself.


     
    Frohlocke, sing, scherze!

             ~ Christianna

        I thought it would be opportune to take a moment and revel in the blessings God has given me.

         Recently I got back from spending a wonderful weekend with my college friend April, her family, and her C-LARP clan (a perfectly lovely Christian role-playing group), in east TN. It was a rejuvenating time both physically and spiritually.

          Now I'm back at home listening to an album of Christmas music directed, arranged, and/or written by John Rutter, and I'm reflecting on all that God has done for and through me these past two months.

          Only two nights ago I had the great privilege of singing Dvorak's Requiem with the NC Master Chorale. I don't know about everyone else, but I couldn't help but sing my heart out. There's something about singing with a choir and orchestra that simply brings my heart to its knees in wonder and awe before God's glory. It was a moment that was filled with the best kind of joy. The kind that makes your heart ache and the tears fall.
         For that I am truly grateful.

      Last Friday my orchestra gave a concert featuring of space themed music. While the music looked fun, when we first began I didn't think there were going to be any of those really brilliant moments that you get when music moves you deeply. I was wrong.
    The repertoire was not only touching in the extreme, but also the vibrancy of playing with other musicians in concert is simply thrilling. There's nothing quite like it. Yet another moment where my heart throbbed and my eyes watered.
           For that I am truly grateful.

       During the C-LARP event in TN, I had thrilling moments playing a character of my own creation in a brilliant story that my friend and her brother crafted. We danced, we prayed, we acted, we sang, and, while cleaning up, we laughed and reminisced. It made me so happy to be among so many other creative believers who knew how to treat others according to Paul's admonition in Philippians 2, to  

      "Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind, [to] regard one another as more important than [ourselves, to] not merely look out for our own interests but also for the interests of others." ~ Philippians 2:3-4

       For that I am truly grateful.

     In January I had the great pleasure to be present at my friend Christiana's wedding(another college friend). We unrolled tulle, pinned up hair, shared old memories, danced, and clowned about, and God was exalted through it all. I returned home at peace even in spite of flight difficulties.
   
       For that I am truly grateful.

    This music I'm listening to right now; it may not be traditional repertoire for March, though certainly not the kind of music you can tire of like you can of jingle bells and silent night, but Christmas music is one of my favorite types of music, and you all know I've never minded the raised eyebrow here and there.
      I'm grateful that I can sit here at my desk by my window overlooking our own little patch of woods, listen to Christmas music and write to my heart's content.

       Indeed, for that I am truly grateful.

       Very little passes in our lives today for which we do not have cause to be grateful. I am often reminded just how easy we in America have it. We ought to be the happiest people in the world. God has truly blessed us, and while we must certainly be on our guard that these blessings do not cause us to forget our purpose or start pursuing things rather than Christ, but this is also cause for rejoicing.
     As Paul says, "Rejoice in the Lord always, again I will say, Rejoice!" 
           These good things are from God and we ought to rejoice. Certainly I intend to.

     The world right now would have me believe that I am not actually as blessed as I think. They would have me yelling and screaming about who-knows-what, they would have me poking at other people's lives to find problems.
          My flesh contends that God and my current blessings are not actually enough for happiness. More stuff, more people, more time, more recognition, is what I need for true joy.
         The Devil whispers that God isn't the source of these good gifts, that maybe they just happened, or else they're some sort of trap instigated by a cruel power who doesn't actually care.

      Yet I know they're all wrong. Because I've tasted true joy; joy that can only be had from the eternal spring that is Christ.
          And for this, I am eternally grateful.

    So I'll leave you, my friends, with a magnificent old hymn arranged by John Rutter and sung by the Cambridge singers.
       May it remind us all to rejoice and be merry, for our King of love has brought us a chalice filled to the brim with blessing.