This is breaking news (a.k.a. things that entertain me) brought to you by one grande Misto from Starbucks on an empty stomach, a deplorably short night of sleep, and the normal (I hope) human tendency to self-indulgently blog when I feel chatty and there is no one else around to listen.

1. Do you believe in Cheesus? (Oh, victory in Cheesus, my flavor forever…) Visit this link for the full story. http://...com/r4y3jz

2. Somebody FINALLY came up with something that makes some sense around here. Prescription fish tanks. The Hallelujah Chorus is ringing in my ears…
http://...com/qqbskp

3. The other day I had the idea to make a tshirt that says “the Holy Spirit is my GPS" on it. I jokingly mentioned it to Matt Maher and he said, “GPS–Global Paraclete System!” at which point we laughed hysterically while the rest of the people at the table wondered who invited the crazy people.

This has been your morning news report, brought to you free of charge and possibly against your will by yours truly. Happy Tuesday!

I shouldn't even be awake right now, but I am. And I was coasting
through facebook photos on a friend's profile when, out of the blue, I
came across an old photo of my cousins and my grandmother at Christmas
one year. I jumped. She is the only one looking at the camera and I
swear, for one startling second, it felt like she was staring right at
me. An adequate summary of the emotions this stirred is impossible.  But I knew I had to stop everything and write something...anything.



She passed in '94...I never even really knew who she was. There was the
language barrier (she was from Damascus) and the fact that I was a
little scared of her...as a child I was always a little frightened of
elderly people. Something about the aged seemed so foreign--the skin
creases, the strange medicinal smells, the hands dotted like road maps.
I was a little shy whenever I went to see her; she loved like a champ,
though, and that I knew. Her apartment was no bigger than a
shoebox--and her kitchen couldn't hold three people. Whenever we got
out of the elevator on her floor in that Jersey City highrise, with its
green carpeting and blind-less blank windows, she would appear at her
door at the end of the hall, waving and smiling as we approached. There
were the brown-spotted hands, gnarled from arthritis, waiting to grasp
our faces in greeting; and there were the comforting scents of her
kitchen, wafting out just beyond her and finding us before we walked
inside. It only just occurred to me as I have been typing that she must
have been very excited to see us when we came. And oh, how the tears
are springing to my eyes as I realize how little of her I really know.



But like I said...I know she loved like a champ. Maybe that was enough.
I'll have to climb a tree with her in heaven someday and talk about it.

I love Saturday mornings at home.

The best things in life sometimes smell like dish soap, coffee, and springtime air…
At the moment I am in jeans and a bathrobe, and have just finished a good solid hour-long conversation with Jen and Laura (two of my three roommates–the third, Ellie, is working today). The windows have been thrown open, the house is chilled like white wine; the sunlight seems bold, fresh, and brave, like only spring sunshine can.

(”Come on, take it, take it from me–we’ve got a good life,” sing the Weepies)

Every time I stop to notice beauty it turns and winks at me, as if to ask where I have been and what I have been waiting for. Today, I am seeing it in the gifts of housework and conversation and food…I wonder if heaven will be anything like this…pretty, quiet, satisfied…peaceful.

Today I said that I feel like 'unpacked boxes, a neglected attic, and misunderstood art.' Just thought it was a sentence worthy of some elaboration.

For whatever reason, today I feel all jumbled up. It may not be rational, but it's certainly frustrating. Nothing seems like it's where it ought to be--many nights I have wild, vexing dreams about things like trying (and failing) to remember lyrics to songs I have sung a thousand times, or children stealing things that belong to me; I wake up wondering what it is in my heart and my life that is so out of control. Some days I ask myself and the answer is nothing. Other days, the same question garners a response like a piercing scream from my tired mind--EVERYTHING. And you know what? In the clear light of most days I am quite all right with it, because I know with underlying certainty (strong as a cold steel beam) that my life is a vapor, and only God can hold onto me.

But today? Today, I hate it. I think it stinks. I feel like a gawky, awkward teenager who can't do anything right, and who can't feel what she ought to, and feels what she oughtn't. And today I went around ignoring it until it finally overwhelmed me and I made myself sit down and acknowledge my upset-ness, my confusion, my sheer inability to function on levels which, as a miserable fourteen year old, I thought surely I would have conquered by the ripe old age of twenty five.

Today, I am still confused--I am still awkward--I am still fourteen. I am fumbling and frustrated. My faith is small and afraid and wounded and sore. The only thing that keeps me sane on days like today is the knowledge that I can feel this way and God doesn't change. So, here at 1:25 am, I plan on retiring to my room (which at least is a whole lot cleaner than it was when I was fourteen!) and laying down in my bed and closing my eyes, to rest my head on the shoulder of a Father who cares about my feeling stupid and dumb and misunderstood.

So glad I have Him today.

Hello out there!

I haven't written in a while--for several reasons, but mostly due to the fact that my computer charger randomly burst into a million pieces and filled the entire living room with smoke and the smell of battery acid. Although I love my iPhone (you can have that endorsement for free, Apple) it's difficult and frustrating to tap out long messages, or in this case, blog entries, on the tiny, elusive "keys" of the "keyboard".

A. First of all--to everyone who sent me their email addresses, THANK YOU--the mp3 I promised you is still coming, but has been delayed because of my computer problems. I will do my best to have that out as soon as possible. I appreciate the great response, and will keep updates/cool stuff coming as much as I can.

1. I will put information in the mp3mail (seriously, :) somebody in a marketing department somewhere--hire me!) about how to purchase CDs, since so many people have been asking; I apologize that I haven't been getting back to everybody who has written--but when I send out the update and music, I will put that information in there for you.

B. A few items of interest (at least I think so, :) although I have no way of knowing);

1. A few weeks ago, as a result of a long and seemingly coincidental set of circumstances, I found myself at a vineyard in Northern Virginia with a family of remarkable musical gifting, not the least of which came from their daughter Marie. She plays guitar, mandolin, and other delightful things. :) Check her stuff out at www.myspace.com/mariemiller.

2. In honor of Valentine's Day...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmdnO3Kcrno&feature=channel
HAHAHAHAHA.

3. I have been eating beans and rice or lentils and rice with alarming frequency recently.

4. I have discovered a love for Thomas Merton I didn't even know I had. Read his books. Seriously.


That's news to you,
Audrey

I drove home from Atlanta today with a migraine.
A deep white mist thickened the sky and drifted slowly across the cold dark asphalt of the highway.
Beautiful.

An old interview with Rich Mullins (God rest him) was playing in the background, and I slipped dreamily into thought.

Mostly I just thought about the fog and how pretty it was; and against it, how dignified and serene the blurry charcoal silhouettes of the trees in their winter nakedness. It obscured them...and yet, somehow, it beautified them too.

Suffering is something like that, I think. The mist in my forest...hiding and softening me.

Can't believe it's already 2009...the last year has been a blur of emotions and events and changes for me, and I'm sure most of you can relate! That thing called 'time' that we wish we had more of is something we all live by and submit to. C.S. Lewis said it well in this quote somebody read me yesterday; "The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of 60 minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is." Time plays no favorites.

I just came off a really wonderful few days at Campus Crusade's Christmas Conference in Atlanta; it's my third year being involved with the music (along with Tenth Avenue North--fun reunion!) and this conference was pretty rich with good teaching. The last evening, a lady named Laura Winner spoke on time and the kingdom of God. She said something I'd never thought of before, which was that, when we speak of time, we almost exclusively use terms that we have borrowed from our vocabulary about economy. We spend time, save it, waste it, borrow it, invest it, lose it, manage it, and buy it. (think of all the cliches you've heard all your life!) Ms. Winner's personal style of communication was, I admit, a little difficult for me to follow; but this and several other things she said really stuck with me. She told us that, this year, we ought to (as they used to say in the eighteenth century) *pass* the time.

At the sound of the phrase 'passing time,' my mind conjures up a slow, soft image of something like a porch with a swinging bench, a cup of coffee, and a quiet morning. Spending time implies something so different--going somewhere, doing something, accomplishing things. But passing time--it sounds more like peace. I need a little more peace in my life.

This year, although I rather detest the practice of making resolutions (I rarely keep them, no matter what I do), I am going to take the wild chance of resolving to pass the time instead of spending it. Perhaps I'll see and hear things (especially from God) that I would have otherwise missed...I'll keep you updated. ;)

Happy New Year!
Audrey

"You have been treated with a severe mercy. You have been brought to see (how true & how very frequent this is!) that you were jealous of God." - C.S. Lewis, in a letter to Sheldon VanAuken.

------

I am a heap of mixed feelings tonight; all jumbled and jostled and genuinely confused. Over and over I encounter things, people, places, and feelings that I unconsciously begin to take for certainties--I believe, with the wide-eyed idealism of a little girl, that they will stay the same. And, without fail, again and again, they change. (I will not here elaborate on the details...but as I know that you, gentle reader, are as human as I, feel free to insert your own experience here __________________________)

The odd thing of it is, the more that it happens, the deeper my gratefulness becomes; I have come to see that God's kindness is strange. In some cosmic, incalculable, mystical way, the goodness of God both gives and takes. In spite of my most valiant efforts to hold my hands open to Him, I find myself yet again clutching His gifts to my breast. I have the wild look of a hunted creature...and indeed, I am hunted. Christ is hot on my heels, an unrelenting bloodhound. His goodness is hard sometimes, for He does not allow me to take my solace in anything or anyone but Himself.

Tonight as I pondered these things (in the deserted lobby of a movie theatre, oddly enough) I had a profound and moving encounter with Truth. There I sat, on a hard metal bench, alone among the movie posters and the brash neon lights...perfectly still, perfectly quiet. I closed my eyes and shed two slow, calm tears. My heart whispered to Him this one sentence;

"Nothing in my life is sure, except for You."



-------


"All which I took from thee I did but take, not for thy harms, but just that thou might'st seek it in My arms." - from Francis Thompson's poem, 'the Hound of Heaven.'

Airports are veritable treasure chests; light reflects off the corners of a million bustling people who glimmer and wink like undiscovered gold. The past few months have found me more often than usual in terminals, baggage claims, and security lines: but only sometimes do I watch what surrounds me with eyes open, with heart awake. This morning I looked--I really looked--and oh, what wondrous sights I encountered. :) A couple of Hasidic Jewish men pass by...tall fur hats covering their yarmulkes...curly, salt-and-pepper beards...long black overcoats, cell phones, weathered faces. (For a second I feel swept away into the Faith of the ancients...into slow marching lines through the Red Sea, into purple and scarlet tapestry, into incense and sacrifice and washing.) Soldiers are everywhere in olive and sand colored camouflage--ballooning pants with skinny ankles--combat boots--eyes searching for loved ones or looking out the window, awaiting. And there, grandparents, slightly annoyed and greatly bemused by their slow-moving grandson, who cannot seem to get everything in order and out of his pockets before going through the X-ray scanner...he is at least eighteen. They laugh, and make some quiet, provocative joke to one another about how he probably had a 'hard night'. He passes slender hands through the restless hair standing up on his head and stumbles back into his black sneakers, seemingly unaware of them.

People everywhere...Christ everywhere...we must only look, and we will find Him.

Thanksgiving is in two days–I have already had three Thanksgiving dinners this year, because kind folks on the road keep throwing them for us in case we weren't going to be able to be home for that blessed holiday. Oh, and Canadian thanksgiving in Newfoundland, too–which was especially fun because we had foods I've only read of but never actually had, like peas pudding (amazing, by the way) and other such things. Also, the little firecracker favors you have to pop open–also something I'd only read about. So, I head down to Alabama tomorrow to spend Thanksgiving with a former pastor of mine and his family and some other friends–very excited–and I am totally okay with another Thanksgiving dinner–I never get enough of it anyway. :)

There are some very specific things I want to blog about but haven't the time at the moment–so here are a bunch of pictures, and again, sorry it's been such a long time. I am off for a pretty good stretch of time here so hopefully I can start indoctrinating you again into my strange and digressing thought processes…doesn't that sound like fun?

Blessings everyone–happy Thanksgiving–much love.

Audrey


Kemi in the snow!


Stratford, Ontario...beautiful.


Shooting a Coke commercial with Chris and Conrad - www.chrisandconrad.com


Notre Dame in the fall... :)


A furry motorcycle we found...why...WHY?!


Cirque du Soleil?


bffs :) haha


Suffer the little children to come unto Me...


Dan gets cast in a street show by a crazy Finnish guy with Fabio hair.


Finnish guy does pushups on his thumbs.


Kemi finally loses it.


What I *really* do at EMI publishing--full body contact Wii tennis.

7 November 2008

(a very, very overdue entry)

I have been on the road for over a month and I haven't really written anything, for which I apologize. Part of the problem has been that I loathe lugging my laptop around, mostly because we generally fly at ungodly hours of early morning, and I would rather not be bothered in the security line with unpacking and packing more things than I absolutely have to. It's enough of a nuisance that I have to restrict all my liquids, gels, and aerosols to containers of 3oz. or less. It is also enough hassle to gather said commodities into a small plastic bag and make every effort to keep it on top of the other, more frequently utilized items in my massive purse so that I don't have to go digging for it when I am suddenly confronted by the stone-faced x-ray people at the security line. On top of all that bother, I must also remove my shoes, which is sometimes a very involved and difficult task, depending on the footgear, and my coat, placing them in the correct order in one of those chunky plastic grey bins (of which there never seem to be enough) so that the plastic bag is on top and not buried beneath my woolen outer-garments. So…the point is…the last thing I want to add to that list of complications is the small-but-annoying-fuss of having to open my bag and remove my laptop, placing it in a separate container, and putting it back in again while attempting to re-shoe, re-coat, and re-deposit my bag of liquids, gels, and aerosols, before the x-ray machine shoots out somebody else's stuff and sends my bins flying down the spinning chrome bars to the end of the security area.

Now that I have made a way bigger deal of that than I need to, let me continue. So I haven't been bringing my laptop on these trips, which has been survivable because I have been inducted into the cult of iPhone; this is a blessing and a curse, at once allowing me to remain connected to the social networking platforms that take up way too much of my free time while also depriving me of the use of an invention I have hitherto grossly under-appreciated; the keyboard.

All you iPhone users out there can feel me on this. We have all at one time or another (whether or not we like to admit it) attempted to send a text to someone or other while driving or doing some other thing which ought to have our full attention…and, being distracted from the task at hand by the pesky tendency to keep our eyes on the road, we type 'did yiu see thst movie last nigjt?'; or, when intelligent iPhone texting software decides to read our minds and fill in the word it thinks we are looking for, 'i tried to coma to the show but i had a last minute work thing!' And even when I am paying full attention to the iPhone and its slippery screen, I usually take ten thousand times longer to type anything.

So–that is why I have not been blogging. But now I am home for several days and am going to attempt to retro-blog (is that a term?) about some of the highlights and the more interesting experiences we…uh…experienced.

(until then, I am just giggling at the flowery descriptions of different coffee roasts that I ran across in Delta Sky magazine…e.g. "it begins with a thunderous cabernet-like shout and finishes with a passionate, buttery finish." Get ME some of that coffee, PRONTO!)

—

as of 20 November 2008.

Latest news; I signed a publishing deal at EMI Christian Music Group on Monday. (as a songwriter, not as an artist) I have been doing some songwriting there since the summer, and cannot wait to see what the future holds for the relationship that has been made "official" this week! I'm seen below standing with Matt Ewald and Eddie DeGarmo — both dear men that I greatly respect. Already loving it more than I could ever say.

I have officially entered the twenty-first century; I am keeping up with the proverbial Joneses; I have joined an ever expanding group of elite tech-savvy gen-x-and-y-ers. I am no longer Neanderthal Woman! What one thing, you may well be wondering, can possibly have effected such a metamorphosis? In a word; iPhone. That's right, folks; even at this moment,I am laboriously 'typing' this blog on my cheapasfree wordpress app, and feeling very hip as I do so, even though I am unattractively squinting at the screen as I clumsily try to avoid typos. This is the life. Cue sarcasm.

But, all jokes aside, I drink no haterade. This is a great business investment for me; no longer must I carry my laptop everywhere because my calendar is on it; no more will my blogs be devoid of photographic evidence of my escapades; and now, if I should lose my way en route to a show or something, I can get back on track with the click of a button…er…the tap of a fingertip. So, in the future, expect more blogging and photos from yours truly…now; if only I could get the hang of this keypad…

(the dog is my brother's...he's on the couch curled up next to me. Boris. :) he's sweet.. As for the graveyard..well..this is the very first thing I did on my first trip to Minnesota the other week with Matt and co--stopped at the graveyard and make Kemi take a picture of me. Haha. And, lastly, the sad ending to a reunion with our dear friend Andrea in MN...)