Sporadic Entry Time!

It IS that cool.

Never had a train track around when I was growing up, so today I put a coin on the track on the way to town. On the way back, I approached the tracks with child-like excitement. There it was - a smooth, flattened 20 cent piece! You could hardly see Queen Elizabeth anymore.

It was SO COOL - up there with making forts out of blankets and your living room furniture.

Currently Listening Good Monsters By Jars of Clay see related

Love Song

I have a few favorite love songs, and most of them are much more...obviously romantic than this...but I really am a fan of Water Under the Bridge from Good Monsters. It seems to be written from the perspective of someone who has been married quite awhile, and is going through a dry, hard time with their partner. Anyone who has been married for years could tell you they have moments - even long stretches - like this. Hopefully it's not the overriding story of their marriage, but I know everyone has some moments. And no, this is not reflective of anything going on in my current experience ...I've been pondering over this song since I got the CD back in AG 218, Rochester College:


I do not love you the way I did when we met
There are secrets and arguments that I haven't finished yet
It's only that grace has outlived our regrets
We're still here

Maybe we can stay
'Til the last drop of water flows under the bridge
We can stay
'Til the last drop of water flows under the bridge

There are times meant for breaking
And words to ignore
And a bent to our souls
When our skin is at war
If leaving were freedom
Well, we'd both walk right out of that door

Maybe we can stay
'Til the last drop of water flows under the bridge
We can stay
'Til the last drop of water flows

And the years roll by
And you hold my hand
While the shadows stretch over the land
Crumble and fall in my arms
And we'll struggle to hold on
Waters, they rise
And they carry our hopes and our dreams away
Baby, we can stay, stay

And the years roll by
And you hold my hand
And the shadows stretch over the land
Baby, we can stay

'Til the last drop of water flows under the bridge
We can stay
'Til the last drop of water flows under the bridge
We can stay
'Til the last drop of water flows under the bridge

'And the years roll by/ and you hold my hand'

A man recently died, suddenly - my grandparents were very good friends with him and his wife. And he and his wife had been married for 52 years. Think of all the time - all the history - all the experiences of life that happen over that much time. I think of C.S. Lewis, when his wife died, finally coming to the point in grief where he could see that what they did was good; it, like every other story, had a proper beginning, all the drama and excitement and pathos of the middle, and then an ordained end. Perhaps, he writes, 'this had reached its proper perfection. This had become what it had in it to be. Thereore of course it would not be prolonged.'

I can't imagine the grief of losing a spouse of 52 years, all the words and habits and routines and acts of love that would suddenly have no object. But I wonder if, in that kind of grief, there is an assurance that the two of you had run the race together and crossed the finish line. There is completion; you fulfilled, if imperfectly, the promises you made to one another before God. You stayed until last drop of water flowed under the bridge. I have no way to know, but maybe such a bereaved spouse experiences a deep joy (different from happiness) that cannot be understood those who have spent their lives chasing happiness and avoiding pain, both the pain of a lifelong relationship and the pain of great loss.