Patiently (Psalm 40)

This was one of those times when I was having my quiet time and the words of the psalm I was reading seemed to rearrange themselves into musical and rhythmic sense.

Ever since I started tackling this song, I've been reminded of prayers that seem to have been met with the answer "wait." It's been a challenge to myself to wait patiently on the Lord, knowing that His timing is perfect.

Recording isn't amazing, but just so you can get an idea of what I had in mind... enjoy :)

Patiently (Psalm 40) by Grace Coleman

Blessed is he who has made the Lord his trust
And has not turned to the proud
Many Oh, God are the wonders You have done
And Your thoughts toward us
I cannot proclaim with words so few
Their number is so great
Oh God there is none to compare with You
For You

Heard my cry and inclined Your ear to me
When I waited patiently
Strengthened my steps put a rock under my feet
When I waited patiently
Noticed me when I had lost my way
Pulled me out of the miry clay
Gave me a new song I could sing
When I waited patiently

Sacrifice for my sin is not required
You have opened up my ears
And I delight to do what You desire
Your law is dwelling here
Your righteousness I will proclaim
I could never hide Your love
My lips will never be restrained

Be pleased, Oh Lord, to deliver me
Make haste, Oh Lord, to help me

Cause countless evils they come and surround
My sin covers up my eyes
My heart has failed and I am overwhelmed
By those who seek my life
Lord, let my enemies be ashamed
Who in my pain, delight
But let those rejoice who seek Your face

© 2011 Grace Coleman

Dreams

I am currently hiding under my covers from the cold air coming out of my AC vent. I just drank an Emergen-C and an orange juice slushy. That's right. I've come down with... something.

I never remember my dreams, but my 3.5 hour nap this morning/afternoon concluded with a rather terrifying one that I remember in greater detail than most.

I was back at Chick-fil-A. Not dining, but working. Lots had changed since I had worked there last. The menu was all backwards and the cash registers had digressed in technological development. Despite my frustration over not being able to figure out the new (or ancient) system I was trying to greet guests in the usual, cheerful, Chickfila style.

"Can I help you?" I said to the next lady in line. "I mean, serve you?"

For description's sake, she was a rather large woman with shoulder length, stringy, brown hair. She was wearing a pink, sleeveless shirt. Her son was also on the big side and wore very round glasses.

The lady started placing her order, then all of the sudden, she and her son were behind the counter pointing at the menu with one hand and dragging their trays along in the other. I was pretty sure that in the six months I had been gone, this had not become standard procedure. However, I went along with it (customer's always right, right?). Eventually she started getting her own food, and heading back into the kitchen area. I said to a coworker, "What is she doing? Someone needs to stop that lady!" I turned around back to the front desk and figured I would go ahead and help the next guest, seeing how this lady was acting way out of hand. The next guest was a nice lady, but confused as to what she wanted and her accent wasn't helping much. "I want a number 9 on wheat bread."

Wheat bread... wheat bread... I found some button on the touch screen for bread choices, but the font was so small I could hardly read it. Who designs these things?! If I had been truly thinking, a number 9 is a chicken salad sandwich meal, which already comes on wheat bread. Apparently that part of the menu had not changed. However, I wasn't thinking very clearly and continued to search for the camouflaged button.

Her food was brought out on a tray as I wrapped up her order. Suddenly, Miss Do-it-Yourself was back. She shoved her way to the front of the line and grabbed the tray sitting in front of me. I quickly grabbed the other side of the tray, initiating a tug-of-war, and said "What are you doing? This isn't your food!"

She was mad. Really mad. She threw down her side of the tray, and started asking for a manager. I wasn't worried about what she would say to him, because I knew her story was so ridiculous, and I was in the right.

Eventually, she stormed off.

A little while later she was back. Still mad. Apparently, a motorcycle was her means of transportation. She barged in, her son still at her side, took off her helmet, and threw it at me. It was a rather large helmet... about 5 feet long. My friend/coworker went to block the helmet from hitting me with the intention of disposing of it when I said, "wait, I need to hide behind that thing!" While all this was happening, FBI agents began crashing through the windows from five different corners of the building. They could have just used the doors, now that I think about it. They instantly began holding customers under suspicion.

The lady yelled at me and said "You better run while you have your chance!" The statement only made sense at the time.

I figured that while the lady obviously had a loose screw, she was probably right. I patted my pockets to make sure I had my keys, my wallet, and my phone (three things I never carry in my pockets all at once) and squeezed past two of the FBI agents, out through a whole in the wall.

Where was my car? Though there were only a few customers inside, the parking lot was jammed. I could see the agents' charcoal-colored Dodge Chargers scattered throughout the lot. I was running around the building as fast as I could, but felt as though I was running under water. Still couldn't find my little black Jetta. Finally, after I had made a complete circle, there she was. I've always thought Jettas were cute cars, but now she looked adorable.

Before I knew it, I was pulling out onto the main road. While I was an employee at this particular CFA, I was totally unfamiliar with the roads. I followed the signs to the nearest highway, going as fast as I could without breaking the law. "North. I just have to start heading north." I made it on the north bound highway. I didn't want to call my parents cause I didn't want them to worry. I wasn't in trouble, but I sorta was... running for my life? I would have kept accelerating, but right after I got on the highway, I saw an accident up ahead... on both sides of the road, leaving only the middle lane open. I had to get past both sides of flashing lights without getting caught. I decided this would be a good time to call my dad. I hit the speed dial and suddenly heard the second half of the church's answering machine. A section of the message started repeating itself. Not good.

All at once, my phone started vibrating. I opened my eyes, and was never so happy to be woken up by a text. It was from my dad. The end.

Thoughts from the Rebelution

I realize this is a long post, so if you skim it or don't read it at all, that's fine. I posted this partly for your encouragement and partly so I wouldn't forget.

Last weekend was one to be remembered for a lifetime. But in order for you to understand how wonderful it was for me, I must go back a couple years.

When I was in 10th grade, I was sitting in my English class and we were going over the vocabulary for that week. Nothing out of the ordinary, until we came to the word “Transcend.”

“It means to rise above or go beyond” Mrs. Bush informed us.

My mind instantly began to consume this word. My definition was more like a lifestyle. The thought occurred to me, “what if the youth of today adapted this word; transcending mediocrity and the standards the world has set for them?” It could be huge.

I began planning. I was writing songs and lesson plans that all centered around this idea of “transcending.” I don’t know how, but around the same time, I came across Colossians 3. “Set your minds on things above.” This was no accident.

A friend of my mom said to me, “You know, there’s these two brothers out there... their names are Alex and Brett Harris and they have something called The Rebelution. They have great hair.” I checked out their site... it was cool, and they did have great hair.

I started talking to my youth pastor about this transcend idea. He seemed to like it. “You know,” he said, “these brothers Alex and Brett Harris have this thing called The Rebelution and it basically says the same thing you’re talking about.”

The irrational part of me didn’t like this. Alex and Brett "stole" my idea and were getting more publicity. (talk about transcending...) but that was not the biggest concern. I still had a passion. So, my youth pastor made a dream come true for me and for Vacation Bible College adapted this Transcend idea as the main theme.

I quickly found out what his lessons were gonna be about so I could write a song for each day. I was so excited. This was finally happening.

Well, the week came and went. It was awesome. We were all challenged to rise above, myself included.


So now fast-forward to last weekend.


I had been keeping up with Alex and Brett’s blog and read that their final Rebelution tour would be happening this summer, kicking off in Orlando. My mom found this out, too, and began brainstorming on how to get me there. Everything fell in place, and suddenly I was in the car with my mom, my best friend Leah, and my two cousins headed toward Orlando.

Well actually, we were headed for Cocoa Beach for some shopping the day before. And man, was that an awesome day. I got my Dunkin Donuts, Chickfila, and TacoBell fix, got some new threads, meandered around Target, and then ended a perfect day with a swim in the hot tub. Ahhhhh.

The following morning came way to quickly. Since we were an hour away from Orlando and still had to register a couple people, we had to leave the house at 6:45am. I don’t know how, but we managed to get 5 girls ready by then.

The ride over was filled with some singing and lots of Lord of the Rings Discussion (one of the many books/movies I have never read/seen, and thus had no valuable information or opinion to bring to the table).

We arrived in time to get some chicken minis from Chickfila, register the girls, write out our name tags, and get settled. I followed my mom down to the fifth row. Inside I knew something big was about to happen, but I had no idea what.

The conference kicked off with some songs I didn’t know, and then out they walked... Alex and Brett. Legends in my world of Transcending. They went through some housekeeping guidelines and explained that each wireless remote that each person from ages 12-18 held in their hand for poll taking... yeah those things... each one cost $100.00, so they must be returned and that they (Alex and Brett) had high expectations for each kid returning them. They gave away some books and some T-shirts using a pump-rocket to pick the lucky winner. Then we took a ten minute break.

Alex lead the first session: The Myth of Adolescence. Here’s just a snippet from the notes I took.... I must apologize for I am a sporadic note taker. Be thankful you don’t have to read my handwriting.

"100 years ago, there was no category for teens. They were expected to do an adult’s job. Modern Youth Culture says “Keep them entertained for five years.” The current ceiling is where the floor should be. The Bible doesn’t address teens. No categories for them. 1 Corinthians 13:11 “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.” NOT: When I became a teenager, I looked like an adult, talked like an adult, but acted like a child.... what?! We have been called to be exemplary. (1 Tim 4:12... all of it) This is our launching pad."

************

Then Brett came out and did the second session: Do Hard Things. Again, here’s some notes.

Life as we know it; what has changed? These challenges you face today are no bigger than back then. (honestly, when I heard that I thought to myself, “prove it”) If you take a large and a small container and fill them both up half way with water, which is holding more? Neither. They each are half full. The complexity of our problems has changed. The difficulty has not. We’ve grown with our challenges. The most radical (and only) growth that takes place is when you are outside of your comfort zone. Our culture expects more of babies than it does of teenagers. Have you really found your limits? Or are you just where others expect you to be? Whatever God is calling you to do, why aren’t you doing it?!? What God has placed in you, you must pull out for yourself. Society won’t help you pull it out. The testing of your faith develops perseverance. It’s a muscle. You don’t get anything without effort.

Hard Things:

1) Fighting sin in your life
2) Battling discouragement and complacency
3) Doing more than what's required
4) Getting over your fear of failure (Proverbs 24:16 "for though a righteous man falls seven times, he rises again..."
5) Focus on the small things
6) chose your best life (not your easiest life)

Call normal what is normal. Save the word "excellent" for the things that really are.
God's standard isn't to be the best, but to be holy.
You never have an excuse to stop. Never enough.
It's not about what you're not doing, it's about what you're doing.
There is always something harder to do.
If you want to get stronger, you can't lift what's heavy for others. You have to lift what's heavy for you.
It's ok to fail at hard things. Push to failure.

**********

Once the session was over my mom insisted that I go up and get Brett Harris to sign my book. I was reluctant. I get so nervous in these situations of meeting famous people. But I didn’t really have a choice. Mom basically grabbed my arm and dragged me up there. There were only three or four people in front of me, all shoving their books and pens in Brett’s face. I was praying that I wouldn’t say anything stupid. Finally, it was my turn.

“Hi, could you sign this for me?” I somehow managed to get those words out without my voice cracking or tripping over my tongue.

“Sure!” He began signing away. “Thanks for coming!”

“Oh, thanks for doing this! It’s been great... really encouraging. Would you have time for a picture?”


***************

We ate our picnic lunch and talked about how wonderful the conference had been so far. Seriously, it was some of the best speaking I have ever heard.

Then Brett lead session three: The You That is Really You.

"What does the real YOU really want? Every creature is bound by its nature to want what it wants. You can't want something you don't want. Ezekiel 36:23-27; 1 John 3:10; 3:14-18. You can tell where someone's heart is by whether they are practicing righteousness. Are you trying to get better at practicing righteousness or practicing sinning? Or are you a fruit-stapler? (ex: a crab-apple tree with sweet apples stapled to it's branches; a wolf in sheep's clothing) 1 Tim 3:1-5. The real you will eventually be exposed."

I eventually noticed that Brett was starting to focus on an audience within the audience... those that had yet to place their faith in Christ. He gave a beautiful presentation of the Gospel. Thorough and personal. Brett took a poll asking the audience about their relationship with God. How often do you pray because you know God is real and listens? How often do you read His Word because it’s life-giving? How often do you obey Him because you know it’s the right thing to do? Often? Every now and then? Never?

Conviction.

I looked over to the next row and noticed a young boy, about 11 or 12 years old, crying. God was obviously working in his life.

Then Brett asked how many of those in the room knew for certain that they had a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. About 75% answered yes. Of the 25% remaining, Brett asked how many would like to have a relationship with Jesus Christ. If I remember correctly, 90% (105 people) answered yes. And that’s only the people who had a remote. Brett did something that I have never seen done before. Previously, he had mentioned Romans 10:9:

“If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.”

So with that in their minds, Brett said:

“Normally, during this time, every head would be bowed, every eye closed, and those who want to make a decision would simply raise their hand. But if you can slip into the Kingdom that easily, you can slip out of the Kingdom that easily. So, with the lights on and every eye open, I want those who want to follow Christ to stand and yell ‘Jesus Christ is Lord’ and the rest of you, I want you to not applaud.”

Three people stood up that I could see, including the young boy I had mentioned earlier, and said with conviction “Jesus Christ is Lord.” Then one by one, all around the room, I could hear “Jesus Christ is Lord.” “Jesus Christ is Lord.” “Jesus Christ is Lord.”

Brett extended the invitation saying “Some of you parents need to make a decision.” Then he waited.

“Jesus Christ is Lord.”

After a slight lull, Brett gave the invitation one more time.

“Oh God, break these chains” I prayed.

I heard two more confess “Jesus Christ is Lord.”

Brett said a few more words. Then he said, “I know everyone is dying to jump up and shout ‘Jesus Christ is Lord’ so on the count of three.....”

One....

Two...

Three...

An overwhelming feeling came over me as I jumped to my feet and reaffirmed my faith saying, “Jesus Christ is Lord” I couldn’t shout cause I was fighting back so many tears.

Those who had just placed their faith in Christ were called to the front. As they made their way up we sang “My chains are gone; I’ve been set free.”

I don't know how to appropriately move on from that special moment. But there was one more session. A type of "where do we go from here?" session. Very helpful, to me especially, since it went beyond the teen years (seeing how I am no longer a teen.)

Session four: What Does it Mean to be A REBELUTIONARY?

1) This year. What's next?

*Find the secret rebelutionaries (by being an obvious one) 2 Tim 2:22
*Make friends with heros and dead people (Read. A lot.) 1 Cor 11
*Change SOMETHING. Not temporary. Might mean a change in your surroundings.

2) This year. Lifestyle--what does it look like?

*Doing the ordinary things extraordinarily well. It's a commitment to excellence and integrity. Faithfulness over success.
*Saying "no" to conflicting obligations. Hebrews 12:1
*Looking for opportunities to grow. Take on challenges. Pursue opportunities that glorify God.

3) This decade. How does it apply beyond the teen years?
Faithful with little --> faithful with much.

*Being strategic to bust the myth of adolescence. Humbly. An exception only proves the rule.
*Focused on preparing the future
*Don't be paralyzed. Not afraid to commit. "Just do something"

The teen years are not about the teen years. Again, this is the launching pad.

**************


We left the conference, grabbed some Chipotle, and were on the road. It was over just like that. But it wasn't over. It was just beginning. Or, rebeginning, I suppose I should say. Where had the passion gone from when I was in high school to see people my age rise above the world's expectations for them? There it was. I came to grips with the fact that it had been a long time since I had done a "hard thing." It was easy while I was in high school. Well, not "easy" but easier than now, since expectations were so low for people my age. Not that I did what I did to be noticed, but I think people were easily impressed.

After I graduated, I didn't know where to go. I began to slack off. I easily found excuses to not follow my conviction of rising above. I suppose my mind set was "You worked hard in high school.... you need to catch your breath for a while." Well, that while is up. It hasn't been hard to find hard things to do since I left the Rebelution. I'm scarred to recommit, but I am more scared to be one of those "kiddults" Alex and Brett talked about... those who are in their twenties and are still children. No responsibility. No purpose. Well, I have a purpose, and I need to live it out. Praise God, I am ready to do hard things.

Reader's Undigest

Oh no! Oh no!

I don't like to read. :'(

What am I supposed to do??

http://www.readfaster.com/readingquotes.asp

I don't even know what they all say. Cause I didn't read them.

And if you don't read, you don't go anywhere.

Leaders are readers... or is it the other way around?

Are you even reading this?

When I was a kid (and even now) I was/am the figure it out on your own type child. I never read directions. I looked at the picture on the box. Most of the time it turned out ok (My dad was an engineer... otherwise I would be hopeless)

I'm scared.

I want to go places in life... but I want to see the places for real. I don't want to read about them on a page. I want to see how red the roses are or how pristine the water is for myself.

GRANTED: I have read a few books. They were good, which is why I read them. Some of them were for school, but some I actually chose to read on my own. And I am a better person because of those books (The Bible, The Hiding Place, Brother Andrew, God's Smuggler, Twenty and Ten, The Screwtape Letters... just to name a few)

I don't know what to do. It's one thing to read a biography or war stories or something that actually happened. But fiction? I'm not even gonna go there.

Ok, I am now only rambling and making you read about how much I don't like reading.

Please don't get me wrong. Reading is a wonderful, valuable, even crucial thing. "The keeey that takes you where you want to beeee" as my grandma says. And now I am staring at a blinking line thingy because I don't know what to say about where that leaves me.

I will say this though... my "figure it out on your own" personality is no exception to the life-instructions of the Bible. I cling to those teachings and directions with everything I am. I do, in fact, love God's Word, and the only way I can know it for myself is to read it. And right now... that is my hope to hang in there and keep reading.

The Life of the Church Pianist

Normally, when I hear the title "The Church Pianist" a few things come to mind..

1) A woman.
2) Grey hair.
3) Knit sweaters.
4) Hymnals.

First off. Nothing is wrong with the above characteristics. Nothing. However, there are a few exceptions to the stereotype. I think I once saw a guy pianist. Another exception? Oh yeah. Me.

Wait... I'm not much of an exception. I am a woman. I have quite a few silver hairs. I own a knit sweater or two. And I love hymns. Yep, so far so good.

This blog's purpose is to unveil a little more than a bird's eye view of what it's like to play piano at church. Well, my take on the position, at least.

I've actually been singing at church longer than I've been playing. I enjoy it equally as much, so I hope you don't mind, but I'm gonna talk about it just as much.

I was three years old when I sang my first solo in church. "O Holy Night" I don't remember it, but we got it on the trusty ol' camcorder. Thus began the tradition of a solo each Christmas.

I do remember the first time I played piano at church. Well, actually it was an outdoor, night service. I was doing a duet with my friend Molly on the violin. I was old enough, this time, to be a nervous wreck. We had gone through our one song (Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus) about 38,234,922 times, and finally we were getting close to doing it for real. Dad (who happens to be my pastor) had explained to us when we would come up to play. I stood in the back waiting for my cue. I thought I had been given "the eye" so I started making my way to the front, only to have my dad calmly and discreetly put his hand up to say "not yet." So I waited some more.
The time came. We played our song. I probably messed up a heap. I don't remember.

Not long after that, I got to play in "real" church. I was so nervous I couldn't talk to anyone before the service started. I just had to meander all around and not look anyone in the eye. We had our service in the rounds that particular Sunday with only a piano to back up the vocalists. I was completely glued to the music. At one point I lost my spot on the page and had to just completely stop. That was pretty humiliating. Thankfully, everyone else kept going and I eventually rejoined. There was a handy little "transposition" button on this particular keyboard that I was supposed to press to take one of the songs down three half steps. Yeah, I forgot to do that too.

Backing up a couple years, I was around 11 years old, about to sing my annual Christmas song at church. This year I was recycling Chris Rice's "Welcome to our World" which I had sung a few years back. I got through the first verse, then began the second... only it was the fourth. I spit the first line out, realized what I had done, stopped singing, stared at the mic for a second, then heard a big, fat "UUUUUUGGGGGHHH" escape my lips as the palm of my hand met my forehead. Yep, there was no covering this one. I think I decided to give the tradition a rest after that.

Well, after a personal little musical respite, we decided to move on from doing worship at church with CDs and we hired a worship leader who both sang and played piano. I suppose it was shortly after my first time playing in church that we were preparing for a Good Friday service. The team needed a soprano, and somehow I found myself filling the position. I had no idea what I was doing. I didn't really think I was a soprano, so when the notes got to high I just started lip-singing.

"Grace, you need to sing louder!"

I probably heard that a million times. I just wasn't getting it. I don't know how, but I stayed on the team. I eventually began to get used to singing so high. I remember one week John Rabe Jr. came up to me and said, "I actually heard you today!"

Each week, Ira (our worship leader at the time) would hammer each person's part on the piano, then we'd sing through the songs with everyone else. The couple times that Ira was out of town, guess who got to fill in? Me. I didn't like sight reading SATB, even if I didn't have to do it all at once. It was scary.

Eventually I started playing more regularly. The church bought a fancy shmancy Yamaha S90 (the keyboard we kept seeing at all these major venues... had to be good if they were using it) so I was able to experiment a little with the miscellaneous sounds of the Roland. However, I mainly kept to singing... in my soft, signature way.

When Ira and his wife moved to NC, someone asked me if I was going to be the next pianist. I don't remember how I answered her, but I do remember thinking, "I sure hope not."

After a couple weeks of inconsistent rehearsals and ensemble members switching in and out, we had an interview with a guy named Craig Shuff. I had been filling in on keys since there was no one else and somewhere in all the confusion, playing and singing had been combined, so when Craig came for his trial Sunday, I continued on as I had been... little did Craig know how little experience I had. He quickly found out.

I didn't know all that I was in for. That Sunday was an amazing worship service. Craig was hired. And since he lead on guitar, I kept playing piano. I was still very green, but everyone was patient with me. I eventually got in the groove of pounding out everybody's parts, and finally got over the awkward coordination of moving my mouth and moving my fingers in different directions. It's like patting your head and rubbing your belly. Just doesn't work at first.

I think back to myself on what was so hard at first... and now it seems so natural. There's a lot of things that don't make sense about it. So many things that can only be explained by God's sovereignty and grace.

Every now and then I run into struggles, however. And it's always a heart issue.

For instance, a few weeks ago, I was getting ready for church. For one Sunday, I was not in a rush. I was listening to pandora, enjoying the sun streaming into my room while putting on my make-up, when my dad came in. "You know, today I'm gonna mention that song 'The Love of God' it just fits so perfectly with my sermon..."

"Uh huh..." I didn't really know where he was going with this. Surely he wasn't going to ask me to play it. Nah... I mean, we've done last minute, Saturday night changes before but... no, he wouldn't do that. Not minutes before I'm supposed to leave for practice.... no.....

"Is there any way you could play it and sing it for the invitation?"

I could hardly believe my ears. I don't like admitting that I didn't want to do it. And my reasons were lacking in validity.

"You don't have to make it fancy.... it would just fit so perfectly."

I think I gave him somewhat of a "possibly" for an answer (how selfish I am). I kept getting ready, warmed up my voice a little more than I usually do, went over to the piano, INSTANTLY found my music for "The Love of God" (that almost never happens), and was out the door.

We ran through the set, and I started perusing the sheet music, my heart still not in the right place. After my dad got to church, I ran through it with the mic. It was rough. I ran through it again. A little better, but still rough. But I was gonna do it.

Then dad preached. There's something about the message of God's love that is captivating and can change hearts--like mine. By this point I had pretty much given up the selfishness in me that was clinging to my comfortable Sunday morning. Then Dad did what he said he was going to do... he started quoting the song and the story behind it. These lyrics were found engraved on the walls of an insane-asylum....

Could we with ink the ocean fill?
Or were the skies of parchment made?
Were every stalk on earth a quill
And every man a scribe by trade.
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry
Nor could the scroll contain the whole
Though stretched from sky to sky

By this point, I was practically excited about getting ready to sing. Before I knew it, dad was closing in prayer. This was it. I moved up to the front and started playing while he wrapped up his prayer. I was shaking a little... nervous, yes. In awe of the love of God, even more. Something came over me as I started singing. The reluctance I felt earlier, replaced now with great enthusiasm to sing such powerful words. The nervousness, overcome with unexplainable confidence. I got to the middle of the song, which is just a reflection time of "Hallelujahs." I was lost. And this time, not on the page.

"Oh Love of God, how rich and pure, how measureless and strong; it shall forever more endure the saints and angels song"

I'm still blown away by what a privilege it was to be up there... to be up there, every week. Yes, it's a ministry, but its a sweet experience of God's grace. Every time. Why me? How did I get so blessed to take part in this?

Blown away.

There was a time in my life when I really didn't want to keep playing piano. Pretty sure a begged my parents to let me quit. Thankfully, they didn't relent. Learning the art of pressing down on 88 hammers has opened up so many doors. Correction, God has opened so many doors... but they were all on the same musical hall. Learning how to play the piano has taken me to places like Germany, gotten me into a great school, struck up several friendships, but most importantly, it's given me an avenue of worship to my God and King. A sweet communion that I can't explain. What an amazing gift music is--and it is enjoyed most when given back to the Giver.

Sweet Nothings

Here goes.

I wrote this about a year ago, maybe? Didn't have anybody in mind.

It's sappy.

This is just a rough demo that I threw into Garageband, so here's the lyrics in case you can't get all the words... or if you're just feeling saccharine.
Sweet Nothings by Grace Coleman

I don't want to waste your time
On some poetry that I don't understand
When all I know is it takes only three words to say "I love you"
So, I will say those three words time and time again

I'd be a fool to tell you how I feel
And if I did, I wouldn't know where to begin
But then again, I am a fool so in love with you
And so far, you seem to love me for the fool I am

Please turn my way to hear these sweet nothings I have to say
And I will tell them to you time and time again

Sweet Nothings © Grace Coleman 2010.

Clellisms.

My Grandpa (aka PaPa) has several phrases that he says from time to time. Some of them are concisely profound. Most of them put me in stitches cause they are said with utmost comedic timing. I'm hoping to one day find some way to string them together and put a melody to them, but in the mean time, I thought I'd share just some of them. I'll probably add to the list as I remember them...


My get-up-and-go got up and went.

Stepped in what?

Lemme hep you with that.

Aww, get off it.

Now here's an idea...

I'm doing so good I can hardly stand it.

Stick with me, I'll show you the way.

Da-dum.

We do today what others won't do, so that we can do tomorrow what others can't do.

He was just sitting there with his teeth in his mouth.

Haalloh? Haalloh. This is the papa.

There are three parts to a job: Get it out, use it, put it away. (Normally hear this one when I leave stuff out in the yard...)

If they all weren't sitting on their brains...

ACKtually...

This has been a little bit of sarindipity.

Oh, mooah.

Well, shoot yourself.

Come on, Maude!

It'll do ya good and hep ya too.

Isn't that the berries?

Remember who you are.

The most boring blog ever about teeth.

I've kinda always prided myself in having straight teeth. I remember going out to breakfast with a pastor and his wife and him randomly interrupting the conversation to say, "You have great teeth."

I remember going to the dentist and him telling me my wisdom teeth were coming in, but they shouldn't be a problem. Then I remember him seeing that they were starting to crowd my mouth, and if things got too crowded I could kiss my teeth's straightness goodbye, but there was no rush. Then they got infected. Well, that certainly wasn't fun. X-ray after x-ray... we were moving closer to an extraction. Of course, the oral surgeon suggested taking all of them out (why wouldn't he? it's his job.) Are you still reading this? I'm sorry.

Sigh. My mouth hurts.

So today happened. We've been saying it for years. "Gotta get those wisdom teeth out... they're impacted, you know"

I don't even know what that means.

But today was the day. Yes, they are gone. Well, two of them at least.

There's a gaping hole in my mouth.

And there's nothing natural about that.

I have been swallowing blood for nine hours now.

There's nothing natural about that either.

I feel lopsided.

First came yet another x-ray. Somehow I think there had been some confusion as to which teeth were supposed to come out (always a comforting thought...)

"Bite down" she said.

"I can't"

There was a woppin piece of cardboard in my mouth. Unfortunately it moved the first time so she had to do it again. She stuck the thing so far back in my mouth I started to gag. "Off to a great start" I thought to myself. At least she was nice and sympathetic about it.

Then I got moved to another room. It was cold. There were fish all over the wall. There was a stuffed lizard on that light thingy and a whale on the ceiling. I got my first dose of numbage. Then the doctor came in. Laid me down, propped my mouth open with some sort of crowbar, and said his famous line "Just a little pinch" Yep. Then he asked for another syringe. "Yes. Get it good and unfeelable." I telempified. The lady who took my x-rays held my hand as he emptied the second shot. All earlier choking was forgiven.

Then they both left. I was alone. I was wearing a Dr. Seuss bib. I felt myself getting drowsy. Must have been psychological.

Then the other orthodontist lady, who's actually a friend of ours, came in to chat about teeth. She asked me how I was doing. I went to answer her and realized that my lip was numb, which made it very difficult to speak. Somehow I communicated that I was doing fine. Then the doctor came back in and the fun began.

"Just gonna loosen things up a bit" he said. No problem. He started digging around on the bottom. Yep, we were good down there. Then he started digging on the top. I felt *something* and instantly started to panic. If I felt that... what in the world was coming? I didn't want to know. Apparently that *something* began the bleeding process.

"That feel Ok?" He asked.

"Well...."

A third syringe presented itself.

"Go ahead and close your mouth"

That... was a difficult task by this point.

Ah, then the excitement began. "You're just gonna feel a little pressure" He explained. I could deal with that. He asked for something called an "elevator" I thought that was the mouth propper thing... apparently it wasn't. He started pushing and pulling and.... turning? Like a screwdriver. Those wrist movements just didn't look right. Eventually he asked for some other tool... we'll call it "the first pair of pliers." He started to pull.

Nothing.

Back and forth he went between the elevator and the pliers. I was praying that he wouldn't have to cut my tooth. He kept pushing and pulling. I didn't know my mouth could stretch that far and in those directions. He eventually took a break from the bottom tooth and started working on the top. I heard a gut-wrenching ripping noise. Now, that was just gross.

He kept having to wipe my mouth out with those gauze square things... eventually his fingers went a little too far and I felt myself starting to gag again. Not cool.

Anywho. He continued to push and pull. I thought eventually I would see the thing fly up in the air... but no. Finally. It broke loose. "Ah, now for the hard one he said."

Also not cool. But also, not true. Just a joke. Always get a dentist with a sense of humor."

The top one came right out. The dentist left promptly as the lady cleaned up my teeth. She asked me if I wanted to see them. I felt as if I was getting to see my new born twins after hours of labor (actually the procedure was only 45 minutes). We sat there and stared at the teeth lovingly for a few minutes. "You were very brave" she said.

Oh goodness.

Actually I was glad she said that. Cause it hurt.

I was not very talkative in the car on the way home. I didn't even want to go into Publix (now that should tell you something right there). I just kept looking at my teeth in the little treasure-box container. They were beautiful. And large. Like, scary large.

I knew I was feeling better when I texted my dad and said I did actually want to go to chickfila (after turning him down a few minutes earlier).

OH! I almost went to bed without putting them under my pillow. I need to go do that.

Goodnight.