memories

Old Books

/ Ragamuffingospelfan / 1 Comment

  
I do love old books. I have quite the collection.

True, most of them aren’t in the best of shape and they aren’t probably worth a whole lot, but they have sentimental value for me.

One that I’m looking at right now as I write this is an 1892 Book of Common Prayer that I’ve had for long enough to not be able to remember where I got it or what I paid for it.

I’d love to climb into a time machine and be transported back to 1892, a la H. G. Wells. Since that is not likely to be an option any time soon, I’ll settle for a piece of 1892 in this little prayer book that looks like it’s 123 years old. Like I said, it’s not in the best condition. But it’s mine.

Some old things are good. Old friends and old pets are the best. Just ask my 15-year old feline. Finding old yearbooks and listening to old music can bring back the best memories.

Yeah, I’m old-fashioned. I don’t listen to much current top-40 music or go see the newest movies. I prefer old music and Turner Classic Movies, the channel that shows all the classics.

Maybe, at some point, I’ll find an edition of that 1892 prayer book that’s in better shape than mine is. If that’s the case (and if the price is right), I’ll snatch it right up and add it to my already ridiculous amount of books.

Until then, I’ll handle the one I’ve got with tender love and care. Maybe I should try that with the people who are currently in my life.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to turn off all your smart devices and electronics and go somewhere small and quiet and actually read a book. You know, the one with actual pages that you turn by hand. Those kind.

Try it sometimes.

 

Motownphilly Back Again

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I don’t know about you, but there are certain songs and albums that take me back to a specific time and place.

For me, one example is Boyz II Men’s Motownphilly, which takes me back to my freshman year at the Deusner 7 (or maybe it was 5) dorm room at Union University in the fine city of Jackson, Tennessee, where (I might add) you can’t go 50 feet without running into either a college or a church.

I’m not the world’s biggest hip-hop fan as a general rule. Not that I have anything against that genre. I just never really have gotten into it.

But there’s something about hearing songs like “End of the Road” and “It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday” that make me nostalgic.

Sadly, that dorm building is no longer there. It got taken out by the tornadoes that swept through the campus back in 2008. In fact, the last time I was there, I didn’t recognize most of the campus (or the people).

I do remember the first time I set foot on the campus of Union, it was like God was telling me, “This is where I want you. This is your place for the next four years.” It felt like home and the peace I felt was undeniable.

There were some scary and stressful moments when I thought I wouldn’t be able to stay due to finances, but thanks to Stafford loans I managed to graduate four years later.

I made some great friends and great memories that I wouldn’t trade for anything. Sometimes, I think I’d like to get together with some fellow Unionites and reminisce about those days and catch up with what everybody’s doing these days.

I think that should happen soon, preferably in the Nashville area. I might even bring my Boyz II Men CD with me.

 

 

Summer in the 60’s

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First off, I wish the temps here were in the 60’s. That would be better than in the 90’s with ridiculous humidity. It’s like walking into an oven.

What I’m referring to is the fact that most of my musical choices lately have come from the great decade for music, the 1960’s.

Personally, I think the best decade for music was the 70’s. There was so much diversity of styles and genres. You had Led Zeppelin, James Taylor, The Bee Gees, David Bowie, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Al Green, The Allman Brothers, Sly and the Family Stone, Chicago, Santana . . . . the list could go on for days.

But lately, I’ve had a lot of Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix playing in my car. Not to mention The Moody Blues, Aretha Franklin, Otis Redding, and the The Beach Boys.

For me, 60’s music seems best when played in the summertime. And country music was way better back then than it is now. At least in this writer’s humble opinion.

For the record, I’m an 80’s child. That was the music of my growing up years and is still the music that brings back the most vivid and poignant memories. Put on an 80’s song and I will probably be able to tell you where I was and what I was doing the first time I heard it.

But I am a fan of all the decades. I literally have music from every single decade of the 20th and 21st century. I even have a couple of CDs with music from the 1890’s.

As I’ve mentioned a few times before, I have music in my head all the time. I do mean All. The. Time. I’d probably be really good in a job where I picked songs for movie soundtracks because just about every situation will inevitable remind me of a song.

So that’s your music update from me for the month of June. Maybe I’ll update you again in July. Maybe not.

 

 

 

Just Ask

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“Don’t bargain with God. Be direct. Ask for what you need. This is not a cat-and-mouse, hide-and-seek game we’re in. If your little boy asks for a serving of fish, do you scare him with a live snake on his plate? If your little girl asks for an egg, do you trick her with a spider? As bad as you are, you wouldn’t think of such a thing—you’re at least decent to your own children. And don’t you think the Father who conceived you in love will give the Holy Spirit when you ask him?” (Luke 11:13 MSG).

I wonder how many times I’ve used prayer as a last resort.

How many times have I obsessively worried about something and tried to figure out ways of handling it myself and it never even dawned on me to pray about it?

You’d think for as long as I’ve been a believer that I’d be quicker to prayer than I am.

I’m guessing you feel the same way.

I think it points to a lack of faith. It says that I really don’t believe that God can handle my problem. Oh sure, He can deal with everyone else’s issues but for some reason in my own mind, my circumstances are different.

I look at it this way. If God can raise Jesus from the dead, He can handle pretty much anything I’m ever going to throw at Him. He’s not going to be shocked or surprised at the needs I lay before Him.

I keep up with Ann Voskamp, a fantastic writer who also happens to put some of the best posts out there on social media. She usually ends them with the hashtag #preachingthegospeltomyself. For those who are unskilled in reading hashtag-ese, that means “preaching the gospel to myself.”

A lot of what I write is me reminding myself of what I already know. Scratch that. Nearly all of what I write is me preaching to myself and stirring memories of times before when God was faithful.

All it takes is the tiniest yielding, the most hesitant agreements, and God can show up and do what He does best– amaze.

 

Summer Nights in Franklin

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“My response is to get down on my knees before the Father, this magnificent Father who parcels out all heaven and earth. I ask him to strengthen you by his Spirit—not a brute strength but a glorious inner strength—that Christ will live in you as you open the door and invite him in. And I ask him that with both feet planted firmly on love, you’ll be able to take in with all followers of Jesus the extravagant dimensions of Christ’s love. Reach out and experience the breadth! Test its length! Plumb the depths! Rise to the heights! Live full lives, full in the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:17-19, The Message).

I love those summer nights, partly because of that song from the movie Grease and partly because that’s when the humidity becomes slightly more bearable. Plus, there’s something about the nocturnal breezes that stirs up a multitude of memories for me.

I visited all my usual Franklin places– McCreary’s Irish Pub, St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, and the Frothy Monkey. I walked up and down Main Street and noted that there were three houses for sale, though one has a contract pending.

It was about being in the moment, not anxiously obsessing over an unknown future and possible scenarios that may or may not come to pass. I remembered that God’s love, while it is omnipresent, can only be experienced in the present. I can’t plumb its depths or rise to its heights if I am dwelling on the past or focused on the future. Especially not if my head is buried nonstop in my smart phone.

God knows the future, because He’s already there. It’s not like anything that happens to me is going to take Him by surprise. Jeremiah 29:11 says that God knows the plans He has for me, and that they are good plans. I can trust not only those plans but also the Planner with full confidence.

I still prefer autumn. With the way I sweat in all this humidity, I’m sure everybody around me prefers it, too.

 

A Moment of Nostalgia

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Recently, I went to Memphis for the funeral of a friend’s father. On the way, I stopped off with my mom at the Wolfchase Galleria and walked around while she looked for a wedding gift for a friend of the family.

I was pleasantly surprised to find a FYE Music and Movies store. I thought those were all but extinct. Needless to say, it made my heart happy.

Best Buy and Barnes and Noble are all good and well, but I miss record stores, especially those in the mall. I can’t tell you how many Saturdays I spent looking through the cutout bins for a great deal. I got my first taste of bluegrass music in a record store.

I’m old school. I like for my books and music to be tangible. Nothing beats the musty smell of a book that’s been well used and well loved. Nothing beats the feel of a compact disc or a vinyl record in your hand.

Don’t get me wrong. I have my fair share of digital music that I listen to on my iPhone. But sometimes at night when I can’t sleep, I’ll hunt down the perfect CD for my mood, find my headphones and portable CD player, and drift off to music that was created by real people playing real instruments.

The Bible is replete with music. It’s a way of remembering your heritage. Just look at the Psalms and see how King David marked every kind of occasion, happy or sad, with a song.

Even now, a song on the radio can conjure up an old memory like nothing else can. It’s like a time machine to a defining moment in my past.

I hope that music store in Memphis can survive. Maybe one day soon I can go back when I have more time to kill.

 

 

Snapshots of Grace

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I went to a birthday party of a friend of mine tonight. She turned the big 3-0. Been there, done that, found out it’s not so bad.

She had helium balloons floating in one of the rooms with pictures tied to them. Each one was a picture of her at some point in her life, with some showing her as a kid, some as a teen, and the more recent ones showing her all grown up.

I was captivated by that idea. I think each of us are defined in many ways by defining moments in our lives– snapshots, if you will. Those are the events in our lives that we remember as if we’re looking at a Polaroid taken at that very moment.

For me, it was the moment I found out about my granddad’s passing. Or when my boss called me into his office after the first plane had struck the World Trade Center building on September 11, 2001.

I can also remember walking across the stage to accept my diploma in my graduation ceremony from Union University.

That’s just it. You don’t get to pick your memories. You don’t get to pick how many good or bad ones you’ll have. You do get to choose  what you do with those memories and how you look at them. How you look at life through them.

The old cliche is true. You can take the bad memories from your life and either let them make you bitter or better. You can choose cynicism and unbelief or you can choose forgiveness and faith.

Some of my best memories are of the friends I’ve made, including the friend who just turned 30. Others involve my family. More often than not– nearly all of the time– the best memories will involve people and not possessions or accomplishments.

I choose to believe the best about others and bring it out of them because that’s what Jesus did for me. I choose to trust that God can take the worst moments of my life and make them the first part of my testimony to how good God is and how He can turn a wreck into something beautiful.

I think I’ll have one more good set of memories after tonight.

Christmas Decorations

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One of my favorite parts of Christmas is decorating the ol’ family Christmas tree.

Most people have ornaments from places like Pier One and Hobby Lobby and all those trendy places, but most of the ornaments on this tree are anything but trendy.

A lot of these ornaments look like they were crafted by kids, because a lot of them were. Leigh (my sister) and I are represented on the tree by lots of those paper ornaments that probably wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else. But they mean a lot to me.

Many of the decorations have the year on them from when they first became a part of the infamous Johnson Family Tree. Some go back to the 80’s. A few even go back before that. Some are even older than I am.

We have ornaments for all the dead pets, too. That amounts to three dogs and one parakeet for those of you who are keeping score.

Each one taken individually, they are not really all that pretty. But each one holds memories that can’t be bought, so to me they are priceless.

Somehow, when they are all put together, they look beautiful.

I guess that’s kind of like the Church. Individually, we may not look like much. We may not even amount to much in the eyes of most people. But put together, we become something amazing and beautiful and powerful. We become the very hands and feet of God. We are the very body of Christ present to the world.

What most people would look at once and throw in the garbage, Jesus takes and makes into something grand. Ephesians 2:10 says that we are heaven’s poetry etched onto human lives.

All that from some old decorations. Wow. Maybe I’ll look at those old ornaments differently this year.

 

I Miss Record Stores

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I’m a big fan of Amazon. You can find virtually anything from music to books to movies to electronics and appliances. I think you can even order groceries there now. But I miss record stores.

I don’t even mean places like Borders that sold books and music and movies. I mean places that sold music. Period.

Granted, there are one or two record stores in Nashville– one that actually sells honest-to-goodness vinyl records like in the ye olden days. But those are on the other side of town from where I live. Not the most convenient places to go browsing.

I remember one particular music store chain called The Sound Shop. There was even Memphis-based chain in Memphis called Cat’s Music that had both new and used music.

I loved checking out the new music releases as well as hunting through the bargain bins. I especially remember seeing ads for a new Grateful Dead album coming out on October 31, 1989. I don’t know why I remember that specific memory from 25 years ago and not what I did last night, but that’s how my brain works, apparently.

I read somewhere that Vince Gill said that one of the reasons that music feels so disposable these days is that you can pay the same 99 cents for a song that you would pay for an app on your phone that makes fart noises. So much for incentives to be creative.

I believe that music more than any other form of media can trigger memories in vivid detail. I can hear a song on the radio or from one of my own personal plethora of CDs that I have accumulated over the years and instantly remember exactly where I was and what I was feeling when I first heard it.

Maybe record stores (along with bookstores) will make a comeback some day. I hope so, but I’m not overly optimistic.

 

 

Family Reunions

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My cousin posted a picture on Instagram that got me thinking. It was a picture taken of the extended family gathered together, all smiles and laughter.

It made me think back to all those family reunions we used to have back in the day. I so enjoyed seeing those people, many of whom I only saw that one day a year.

Looking back, I have one regret. Why didn’t I get to know these people better when I had the chance? Why did I wait until it was too late?

I think everyone who has ever lost a close loved one will feel like they took their loved one for granted to some degree, that they left words unspoken or good deeds undone.

I look at this picture and I see a lot of people who aren’t around anymore. So many that I miss. If I only had some kind of time machine to go back, even if It were only like watching an old home movie. That would be enough.

You think you will have enough time with those you love. You won’t. You think that if they live a good long life, their passing won’t hurt as much. It will.

All you have is the time you’re given. All you have is today, as the old Robert Earl Keen song goes. Every moment you spend with a loved one now is one less regret you’ll have tomorrow.

Don’t think that I have only sad memories. The majority of the feelings that come from this picture are happy ones. Good ones. I feel like I grew up in a family with a long legacy of love, laughter, honor, and faith. I was (and still am) very blessed.