I wonder what it is about the music of our youth (and I'm speaking mostly to those of us who are old enough to look back at least somewhat wistfully) that transports us. Not all of the music from that time does it, but there are songs or artists or albums (that's what CD's used to be called before there were CD's, kids) that create strong emotional responses within us. They take us back in time and can make us feel like we did then. Especially if there is a particular event in our lives that we associate with a song or a group.
And I also wonder what it is about personalities that makes some of us eagerly seek these little side trips of life and some of us dread them. I had many awkward times as a teenager; many uncomfortable moments, times when I did or said something that I regretted or that was stupid and made me look foolish. There was pain and sadness like all people have in there lives. But that's not where I go when I go back. There's a fullness to the memories I have; a sense of longing for that time; a sense that it was good. I remember laughter that was easy and sincere, a sense of invulnerability and great good fortune, a belief that I could make the world better in some way. And there's a tonic in those memories that helps me to believe many of those things are still possible. Even without a teenager's idealism, vigor and ligaments, I can laugh with my friends and know that the life I have is filled with goodness and believe that there are things I can do every day to make the world a better place--for me and for others. I can look at the scars I've acquired--on my body and on my heart--and still know that God has a plan; that, in spite of the pain and carnage we've come to take for granted, human beings are capable of the most profound acts of kindness and love and courage. I can feel gratitude and freedom. I can feel the late spring sun shining on my face and revel in life itself--the sheer joy of being alive and in the universe.
I no longer believe that I am invulnerable to the ravages of time in this world, but I am invulnerable nonetheless. I am more comfortable with my own human-ness. I accept that I am not without faults. I turn my face to the sun each day with hope in spite of them; hope for my future, for the future of my family--my children. I refuse to wring my hands in frustration over the failures of the past or in desperation about the supposed inadequacies of the generation to which we will give way. I have seen them do great things even in the midst of facing greater challenges than we ever imagined. I see them care about things deeply. I see them seek God in spite of our poor example.
I have not accomplished all that I hoped to, but I have accomplished things I did not expect to--and I yet live. There is still time to do more.
My life is not as I imagined it would be all those years ago when I spent time imagining such things. But it is as God knew it would be, and I'm still here. There is some affirmation in that.
We complain so much--about politics, religion, our health, our neighbors, our kids, our spouses, the economy. Stop bitching. Stop it. Please. Stop complaining and act. Act out of love and respect for other people. Act out of a sense of our own fallibility, knowing that we will make mistakes because that's what humans do. Sometimes we fail, but sometimes we don't.
Forgive. Love. Temper anger with understanding; regret with faith; failure with fortitude. See the beauty in this world; see it even when it seems to be hidden by tragedy. In fact, don't just see it, but seek it out. Hunt for it as if your life depends on it.
Jesus said, "I have come so that you might have life and have it in a way that is fuller than anything you can ever imagine or understand." Live. Live fully. And listen to the songs of your heart with expectancy.
