A few chronicles of one who is in the process of having her hair loved off, her eyes worn out, her joints made loose, and turning everything else very shabby.
This has become one of my all-time favorite songs. How happy I am to know the songwriter, Jonathan Thwaits. Thank you, Jon, for such a song as this.
Jon says that this is "a song I wrote about expectations and dealing with them not being realized." True it is that such unrealized dreams can engender profound sadness. Still, what of hope? Hope in yourself and your mettle? Hope in your talent and potential? Hope in God?
And, what of choice? Choosing to not remain downtrodden? Choosing to reinvent yourself if need be? Choosing to fight? What of all that?
Yeah. Don't give up. Don't give in.
You'll be all right.
CIRCUS
Jonathan Thwaits
You’re too old to join the circus as a runaway teen.
Too young to turn the engine off and let it be.
You set out to meet this weary world with fearlessness.
But, you never thought that life would turn out such a mess.
So what can you do when the world says you’re through?
What can you do?
It feels like Summer’s getting hotter every year.
And, funny how your childhood friends all disappear.
You had plans for all the seven kids you never had.
Dry your eyes and tell yourself it’s not so bad.
But, what can you do when the world says you’re through?
What can you do?
You wish you could stand right up again,
And grab it by the reins,
And hear somebody say:
"I’m gonna be right by your side tonight."
But, every time you cried and you wondered why you were so alone
Didn’t you know that it doesn’t have to be so.
Well, you could fill the sea with troubles that you’ve known.
So, write them in the storybooks and let them go.
And, then, with pen and paper that you’ve got in hand.
Write a different tune and give it to the band!
So, now at the helm of a ship going down—
Don’t stop the fight!
Just lift up your eyes
And look to the sky.
Many moons ago, I worked more particularly with an extraordinary group of young women in my ward in Tucson. First, I was blessed to be their Sunday School teacher; and when that class completed the year, I was called to be Laurel Advisor to this same group of wonderful gals. I became quite close to most of them. Connections formed with these young sisters of mine have kept my heart and mind grounded through the years.
One of these former young women of mine is Marisa. At the time, Marisa's last name was Henderson. Marisa has always struck me as being a most sensitive soul: reflective, down-to-earth, willing and ready to sacrifice, slow to anger and judgment, a peacemaker, a loyal friend, and a romantic. In high school, she was also one of those stand out kind of gals in that she wore clothes that highlighted her as an individual, rather than just conform to the fashion norms. Marisa was Alternative Rock, when Alternative Rock wasn't cool.
Marisa ended up marrying this guy with an oddly-spelled last name whom I never knew: Jonathan Thwaits. For years, I didn't even know how to pronounce that name, and was rather challenged to not do painful somersaults when my tongue stuck to the sidewalk during the attempted roll of the "Th" part of the name. As in THUD! Come to find out, you just drop the "h"-sound altogether. You sound it out like waits, but you put the big, bold "T" ahead of the wait. As it should be. Marisa always has been amazingly patient, yet incredibly bold at the same time. It makes sense that she would not only find a guy who suits her in so many compatible ways, but that she would find a guy with a last name that fits her personality, too.
Well, just like Marisa, her guy Jonathan has turned out to be quite a winner in my book. Unpretentious, intelligent as all get out, playful, a dreamer with enough steady grounding to provide lovingly for his family while reaching for those dreams, a creative genius, and a soulful musician. Through his music, I've come to admire the man that Jonathan is.
I have likewise been lifted up in spirit and continuing hope for the future of my former young woman, Marisa. Yes, even as her blog title declares, All Good Things Come to Them that Thwaits. She has made me a believer.
Here is one of Jon's original songs entitled, "Need." This one touches me on a personal level and fits the theme of my own blog, Becoming Skinhorse, so I gladly include it here. I hope you enjoy it and end up checking out some of his other songs, too. He actually has his own blog with more of his original music. But, for now . . . I hope you will enjoy this one at least half as much as I have.
Of all the times that I love to sing, Christmas is my favorite. From the time that I was a young girl in school, my heart filled with joy and understanding as I learned to sing the songs of Christ. In fact, one of my fondest memories takes me back to the day that my fifth grade class was preparing to put on a Christmas play of sorts and the feelings that overcame me as I joined with them in singing and moving about the stage.
Teachers were careful to concentrate more on the technical aspects of the play's production, rather than emphasizing the meaning behind some of the Christmas songs we sang. And, since I didn't have much of a religious upbringing in my home life, I was pretty much left on my own to discover what it was that we were all singing about.
During a dress rehearsal, the stage lights were brought down low, and we all joined our voices in asking:
What child is this, who, laid to rest On Mary's lap, is sleeping? Whom angels greet with anthems sweet, While shepherds watch are keeping?
The Arrival of the Shepherds, by Henri Lerolle. The original is in the Musee des Beaux-Arts in Carcassone, France.
I will never forget the feelings that enveloped me when, as we began to sound the reply to our own question, the Spirit of God lit my heart with understanding. To my young voice and ignorant heart, maturity and strength of conviction were given, and I was literally moved to tears as the message of the Christ Child sunk deep into my soul:
This, this is Christ the King, Whom shepherds guard and angels sing: Haste, haste to bring him laud, The Babe, the Son of Mary!
The Spirit taught me that day, and many days thereafter, helping me draw closer to Christ and to know His name, though it would be many years before I would be able to gain a fuller understanding of His Gospel and an ability to bear witness of its truthfulness to others.
Now, with a fonder appreciation of His Gospel, I continue to sing. As I do, my hope is that others will, through the Spirit, likewise come to understand the miraculous nature of Christ's birth and life, and to feel wondrous gratitude for all that His life promises us.
So bring Him incense, gold, and myrrh, Come peasant king to own Him, The King of kings, salvation brings, Let loving hearts enthrone Him.
Raise, raise the song on high, The Virgin sings her lullaby: Joy, joy, for Christ is born, The Babe, the Son of Mary!
Some of you may have noticed that a few blogs these days no longer allow YouTube embeds to play, nor for Playlist.com music links to function. Unless and until I learn of a solution to this problem, I thought I would extend an invitation to any persons still interested in hearing my little collection of music (42 songs currently) to just send me a note.
While this menagerie of music resonates with messages that have brought me and others hope; or an extra measure of love; or which just may simply emotionally capture some of the more poignant, unspeakable yearnings of the heart--the blend is not enjoyable to everyone, and might even be annoying to some. Still, if there are any who would like a link to the music, let me know. Either send me your your email address in a note, or leave it in a post. I will email the invitation from Playlist.com. That's the only way the music can be shared at this time.
And for those of you who are wondering . . . I'm still working on drafting other possible postings. It has just been a tough year. My silence reflects some of this.
