I plan to accomplish this in two ways.  First, I am working through an Advent devotional entitled “Come Thou Long-Expected Jesus.”  I was drawn to the book primarily due to its title (a favorite carol of mine), but primarily I appreciate the range of voices represented in Guthrie’s collection, from Luther to Keller.

Second, I plan to reflect on Christmas music.  I tried and tried to wait until post-Thanksgiving to delve back into the holiday genre, but the moment I got the pre-release download of Jill Phillips & Andy Gullahorn’s new Christmas album, I made a worthwhile exception.  But, as “A Charlie Brown Christmas” tells us, “Christmas time is here …,” which means, with full respect to Thanksgiving, I can now unabashedly listen to any and all holiday tunes.

So, for every day leading up to Christmas, I would like to highlight one of my favorite songs and in the process also some of my favorite albums and artists.  Today I begin with the first track off perhaps my favorite Christmas album.  Derek Webb and Sandra McCracken contribute their modified interpretation of “Come Thou Long-Expected Jesus” (Charles Wesley, 1744) as the first track on “Your King Has Come.”  Their slow, stripped-down version allows for just enough pause to drink in Wesley’s sound and solid lyrics.

Israel’s strength and consolation,
Hope of all the earth Thou art;
Dear desire of every nation,
Joy of every longing heart.

You can go here for the song in its entirety, the whole album actually.  Enjoy friends!  We’ll explore another tomorrow.

Saturday night I got an email from the race coordinators informing all participants that “due to circumstances beyond their control,” there had been a last minute course alteration.  Instead of beginning in Grant Park and heading south along the lakefront and back, we would instead be running north and back.  I looked at the new course map and was actually pleased; it appeared that there would be a bit more variety and better scenery as the race would still begin in Grant Park but wind up past Navy Pier and up to Lincoln Park before turning back south.

I mentioned in my previous post that Jayme and I had a somewhat audacious half marathon goal for our time.  The hope was to break two hours.  Which, looking at our training long runs wasn’t out of the question, but also was a bit of a stretch.  Especially considering that we walked some on those runs.  But, what fun is a goal if it’s not somewhat out of reach? 

In an effort not to get caught behind people running a slower pace and thus having to play “dodge and pass the runner,” we lined up in between the 8:00 minute and 8:30 minute pace corrals, meaning if anyone was getting dodged or passed, it was gonna be us.    Also, this put us closer to the start which allowed us to cross the starting line around 30 seconds after the gun went off.

One of the best things about running over the past two years has been my watch.  I love my Garmin.  I don’t have GPS for my car, but my GPS watch can tell me exactly how far I’ve run to a hundredth of a mile.  I appreciate not having to be dependent on the course’s mile markers, especially considering that #1, they were off, and #2, there were no time counters anywhere on the course.

Despite the lack of usual race amenities, the run as a whole was great.  Optimal running weather (temps in the high 30s, mid 40s) and not very windy except right on the lake.  I had some great tunes* thanks to your fabulous suggestions.  I timed my playlist at exactly two hours so that as soon as “It’s the End of the World As We Know It” came on, I’d know it’s time to end this thing. 

We kept a pretty good pace most of the race, despite two bathroom breaks.  I was so proud of Jayme!  Man, that girl pushes me to the limit.  Honestly, the whole race was hard for me.  Come mile 9, I wasn’t sure I could keep it up, but Jayme was fast and steady.  I don’t know; there’s something about the Hufstedlers and competition.    So I plodded along beside her, my spirits lifting around mile 11 when we passed the two hour pace group.  According to my watch, our overall pace was decreasing and decreasing to where it looked as though we’d make our goal with room to spare.

At mile 12 Jayme nudged me, a huge smile on her face.  “One more!”  Or so we thought.  We picked up the pace a bit, anticipating only 1.1 more miles of pain.  The last stretch of the race spiraled through Grant Park, making it impossible to see the finish line.  As we were nearing the end, Jayme nudged me again, this time asking how much further.  According to my watch, we had exactly a quarter mile left.  And let me just say, at this point in a half, every hundredth of a mile is huge.  After a couple minutes had passed with still no finish line in sight, she nudged me again.  “WHERE is the finish?”  Looking at my watch, which at this point said we had run 13.2, I had to respond, “I don’t know!  We’re supposed to be done!”

13.44 later, we were done.  And I was NOT a happy camper … or runner.  After grabbing our bananas and chocolate graham crackers, we went to chat with the people at the information tent.  It turns out that the last minute course alteration was due to Obama’s campaigning for Illinois Democrats in Grant Park the day before.  Their choice was either to cancel, shorten, or alter the race course.  They went with alteration, knowing that the last 1.1 mile would in fact be closer to a mile and half.  Grrrr.

The mental anguish of that last “1.1″ miles doesn’t irritate me as much as the fact that Jayme and I really did meet our goal, but our “official” time doesn’t reflect it.  According to the race results, we ran a 2:00:47 and 2:00:46 respectively.  We’ll call that our “ultra” half marathon time.    The amount of time it took us to run an actual 13.1 mile half marathon was 1:57:55.  And for that, we’re pretty proud.

Overall, it was a pretty good day.  I love that I got to spend so much quality time with one of my favorite people both in training and racing.  Lots of memories with that girl … add this one to the list.

*Race day playlist for all interested parties:
Eye of the Tiger – Survivor (Great start to any race)
Impossible Soul – Sufjan Stevens (Took up almost a quarter of my playlist, but worth it for the auto-tune alone)
Young Folks – Peter, Bjorn & John (If the whistling doesn’t get you pumped, I don’t know what will)
I Want You Back – Jackson 5 (Tracy’s pick for our VB warm up playlist senior year … never gets old)
Gasoline & Matches – Buddy and Julie Miller (Evidently the line is “You and me are gasoline and matches” and NOT “You and me against a leaning mattress”)
Roll Away Your Stone – Mumford & Sons (A banjo song I can run to?  Yes please.)
B.O.B. – OutKast (Commence rap/hip hop segment of race)
Quiet Dog – Mos Def (Simma down, simma down, simma down, simma down now)
Rude Boy – Rihanna (A hard choice between this and “Please Don’t Stop the Music”)
Toxic – Britney Spears (Commence guilty pleasure portion of the race …)
Jesus Is the Only Answer – Bela Fleck (More banjo!  And African harmonies!)
Since U Been Gone – Kelly Clarkson (Ha … what girl hasn’t screamed this one at some point)
Sometime around Midnight – The Airborne Toxic Event  (I’m a sucker for the slow build …)
Keep the Car Running – Arcade Fire (Right about this point I was wishing for a car to come and get me …)
Lisztomania – Phoenix (So happy, so poppy)
O Valencia! – The Decemberists (Sad story, but peppy tune)
Elevation – U2 (Randy, be proud!)
Let’s Hear It for the Boy – Deniece Williams (Every running playlist needs some 80s pop)
Single Ladies – Beyonce (Makes most people wanna dance … makes me wanna run)
They – Jem (Gah, the beat on this one …)
To the Dogs or Whoever – Josh Ritter (Fun, fun)
Telephone – Lady GaGa (Okay, this song makes me wanna dance, too …)
Angst in My Pants – Sparks (FABULOUS running song … I always put it on the last minute of my interval workouts)
You Make My Dreams – Hall & Oates (More 80s cheese)
Whip It – Devo (Loved it since 7th grade …)
Cousins – Vampire Weekend (Could there BE a more appropriate running song for Jayme & me?)
It’s the End of the World As We Know It – R.E.M. ( … and I feel FINE!)

But you know what else would be helpful?  Music.  And that’s where you come in, friends.  I am officially soliciting suggestions for good running music.  If you’re tagged in this note, it’s either because I respect your musical tastes or I know you’re a runner … or both.  So how ’bout letting me in on your running playlist must-haves?

And don’t worry, Stacey … “Hungry Like the Wolf” is already on there. 

Well, if my last few days were an episode of Sesame Street, the recurring theme would be the word “hope.”  I am in a season of waiting.  And for a person who’s oftentimes all about instant gratification, waiting is not fun.  At all.  Tom Petty sure got it right … the waiting IS the hardest part.  Actually, I would argue that disappointment after a period of waiting is even harder.  The past few months have been filled with untold amounts of stress as I have sought to discern what’s next.  Next year, next month, next week, next day.  It’s certainly not a comfortable place.  Especially when possibilities emerge and hopes rise only to have them dashed.

And there’s that word.  Hope.  A few days ago I was reminded of a verse in the Psalms concerning hope.  A friend shared it with me last summer in relation to one of my crazy crushes.  Newly single herself, she exhorted me with Psalm 39:7 … “And now, O Lord, for what do I wait?  My hope is in you.” I’ve come back to that one several times since then, occasionally with a guy in mind although it speaks to so much more than that.  It speaks to my tendency to put stock in very transient things.  The prophet Samuel urges the Israelites to “not turn aside after empty things that cannot profit or deliver, for they are empty” (1 Sam 12:21).  They had put their hope in a king rather than Yahweh, the true king, the only one worthy of hope.

The same day I remembered Psalm 39, hope popped up again in an unexpected place.  I was looking up a verse someone had half quoted to me in the context of a conversation on suffering.  “Though he slay me …”  His point was to say that no matter what befalls us, God’s glorification is paramount.  Yes, God is good to his children, but true love for God is demonstrated in our preference for him even when we don’t feel his goodness.  Though he slay me, I will endure?  I will still love him?  I will what?  I went on a hunt for this elusive apodosis.  It turns out that the verse reads, “Though he slay me, I will hope in him” (Job 13:15a).  Job proclaims in the midst of his extreme suffering that no matter what the circumstance, his hope was in the Lord.

Yesterday in the midst of a significant disappointment, another hope verse came to mind.  Proverbs 13:12 muses that “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.” Um, duh.  I definitely was feeling the heart sickness.  My hope had been deferred.  And while I think expressing grief and mourning is natural and even good, this experience of disappointment prompted some introspection.  Perhaps had I invested my hope in God and not this particular possibility, I wouldn’t be facing the same heart sickness.  Because a hope in the Lord does not disappoint.  It may not turn out as I would prefer, but what else in the entire world is worthy of hope?

This morning as I was remembering a particularly difficult circumstance the Lord graciously brought me through a few years ago, an old school David Crowder lyric intruded upon my thoughts.  “Be all my hopes, be all my dreams, be all my delights, be my everything.” Yes, Lord.  Because a hope in the Lord is never deferred.  And delighting in him brings life.  For what do I wait?  My hope is in him.  Though he slay me, I will hope in him.  Be all my hopes.

I suppose of all the words to haunt me, hope is a pretty good one.

I love reading.  I have my dad to thank for that.  Without fail he read to me every night as a child.  Dr. Seuss, The Berenstain Bears, Ramona Quimby, Roald Dahl … some of my best memories are of bedtime story time.  To quote Meg Ryan’s character in You’ve Got Mail, “When you read a book as a child, it becomes part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does.”  Yes, Kathleen Kelly, I concur.

Unfortunately, higher education seems to beat the love of reading right out of me.  It was that way in college, and grad school followed suit.  However, it’s that time again.  Schoooooool’s … out … for … summer!  Schoooooool’s … out … FOREVER!!!  Which means reading’s back in.

And that’s where you come in.  I need suggestions.  I am audaciously attempting to read nine books before August 14th in hopes of winning a raffle for a $100 gift card to Borders.  Hey, just by signing up I got a free dinner from Noodles & Company.    Out of the nine, I have to read one biography, one book set in a different country, and one novel.  The rest are my choice.  I am particularly looking for biography suggestions (preferably not 900 page biographies on John Adams or Herbert Hoover, as intriguing as those recommendations are ), although I am anxious to hear your thoughts on any worthwhile books.

So how ’bout it, friends?  What should I read this summer?

So I’m the “crush” girl. And I have been as long as I can remember. We’re talking preschool; I vaguely remember a boy named Derek sharing his chapstick with me and some sort of kissing incident behind an umbrella. In elementary school I had age inappropriate crushes on boys in the youth group, in middle school it was the orchestra boys, and in high school it was the athletes. My sophomore year I developed quite the infatuation with a particular soccer player. He was tall with broad shoulders, and we had the same lunch period. I was always keenly aware of his whereabouts, and, in true girl-crush fashion, would talk about him incessantly with my lunch table friends. I even gave him a nickname based on the time he left the cafeteria each day … 11:37. (I still have friends tell me they can’t see that it’s 11:37 and not think of me. ) So after months of crushin’ on 11:37, I finally got up the nerve to ask my Brazilian friend Renato, who also played soccer, to feel out the waters for me. Kind of a more mature version of the “Do you like me? Check yes or no” note. After a few days Renato brought me back the equivalent of a box checked “no.” Obviously not wanting to hurt my feelings, he was hesitant to give details. But after some prodding on my part I got the gist of the conversation that evidently went something like this:

“Hey, what do you think of Sarah Reed?”

“Uh, así, así.” (I can envision the hand gesture.)

Now I’m not sure if 11:37 actually used Spanish or if that was Renato’s translation, but either way the words are tattooed on my brain. I suppose it’s good he didn’t say “Muy mal” or something worse, but to be thought of as only “so, so” in the eyes of your crush is … well … crushing.

It turned out that the guy already had a girlfriend anyway, and that maybe he wasn’t the best guy for me to date as well. In fact, I’m pretty grateful that several of my crushes throughout the years never moved beyond crush-stage. Rejection is never fun in the moment, but I can honestly view most of my unrequited crushes as divine protection from some potentially BAD relationships. I tend to get a little tunnel vision when it comes to crushes. I see something great and overlook a lot of not great, and I KNOW I’m not the only girl who does this. It’s a lot easier to see the not great once you realize your interest is not reciprocated than in the midst of a relationship with a person. But I’m rambling now … this was just meant to be a fun reminiscence on the origin of perhaps my least favorite Spanish phrase. Goodnight, friends. Here’s hoping you are all muy bien and not just así, así.

1) What is something your mom did that you will NOT repeat when you’re a mother?

2) What is one quality that you most appreciate about your mother?

On the way over I asked her if she was nervous about the first one.  Her response was, “Should I be?”  Actually the first question was a lot more difficult for me to answer than the second.  I ended up retelling two dance anecdotes involving a wrong colored pair of tights (pic to come) and lack of a ponytail holder at a critical moment.  Neither were true criticisms, only humorous incidents.  However, as difficult as it was to come up with an answer for number one, I knew immediately how I would respond to the second.

My mother is probably the most selfless person I know.  She makes countless sacrifices for the benefit of family, friends and even strangers.  From her patient love for children with special needs at school to her sacrificial love for her own children at home, my mother is a natural caregiver.  She volunteers at church, at the library, and at nursing homes.  She plans trips all over Texas to see the cousins run in meets/play games/act in plays.  She is a giver.  And as the daughter of such a giver, it’s easy to be a taker.  My mother certainly models selfless love for me, but being giving and other-centered isn’t always the easiest task for me.  Her example has doubtlessly been influential, but getting through to this fundamentally selfish girl sometimes requires words.

Yesterday I was griping to a few friends (And as a side-note, can I just say that I have the BEST friends?  Those who indulge my ridiculously long and rambling story telling tendencies have my undying gratitude.) about some disappointments; basically I was being pouty and completely inwardly focused.  As I listened to the words I was speaking, my spirit just hurt.  Not because of the disappointment, but because I realized how little I had been thinking of others lately.  How little I had been praying for others lately.  How little I had been serving others lately.

This epiphany (which wasn’t really an epiphany at all, considering this is nothing new to me … is it possible to have a recurring epiphany?) began to sharpen as I recalled a phrase oft repeated in my home growing up.  Whenever I would complain to my mom about friends, either the quality or lack of, she would say, “If you want a friend, be a friend.  Find someone who needs a friend, and be a friend to them, Sarah.”  Of course that wasn’t fun to hear, but it was wise.  And selfless.

And while my issues yesterday didn’t concern friends, the same principle carries over.  Rather than inwardly focusing on what I don’t have, I have the opportunity to throw myself into the service of others.  Whether that be through listening, praying, or even just being faithful in schoolwork in preparation for a future of service to others, there’s plenty to keep my mind off self.  Because being a friend is about the other.

There’s a chance this may be my last Spring Break ever.  I doubt it, but it’s a possibility.  If I pass a kind of important test here in a couple weeks I get to graduate on May 8th.  What’s next, you ask?  I have absolutely no idea.  My life is more up in the air now than I can ever remember it being.  And while for the past several months this has been an area of almost crippling stress, I am rounding a corner of hope and even excitement these days.

I don’t really consider myself a fearful person.  There have been several times I felt like God prompted me to step out in faith and do something uncomfortable.  Whether it be as simple as initiating a difficult conversation or as extreme as moving across the country not knowing anyone, each faith step, while certainly not easy, was graced with the peace that surpasses all understanding.  It was in the midst of one of those “faith steps” that a friend off handedly made a comment that has stuck with me for years.  She said something about how it was easier for her and me to trust the Lord because we had continually experienced his faithfulness.  I was seventeen at the time, so maybe that wasn’t saying much.  However, standing here ten years later, I have a deeper appreciation for the truth of those words … at least the latter half.

I don’t know that I’ve ever felt more beaten down than in the past year.  I moved up here a little over a year and a half ago to pursue the “next step” on a journey of faith in which I hoped to become better equipped to serve the Lord in whatever situation I might find myself.  College professor was the line I would give anyone who asked.  And that may very well be the final destination, but my grad school experience has really been discouraging in that regard.  My passions are teaching are writing.  It would seem reasonable that academia would be a sensible career path, right?  Well …

Last spring I attended a panel discussion on pursuing a PhD.  These are the two quotes I remember:

“A PhD is not a ticket to teaching.  You have to love the scholarship.”

“It’s really hard to get into a PhD program.  It’s really hard once you’re in a PhD program.  It’s really hard to find a job once you have your PhD.  It’s really hard to like the job you get with your PhD.”

Anyone else want to run in the completely opposite direction?  Those statements wouldn’t be so intimidating if they weren’t confirmed by my experience in the program.  Don’t get me wrong; I am so thankful for the time I’ve had here.  I’ve learned so much and been challenged in innumerable ways.  I’m a better thinker, writer, and overall communicator.  But I’ve also learned that to excel in this program takes endless hours of library isolation, which I’m just not so sure I can do.  I have to be around people and feel like I am making a tangible difference in their lives.  That’s not to say that those who devote themselves to research and writing for the benefit of biblical scholarship are not making a difference; I am indebted to them.  You are indebted to them.  But perhaps that is not to be my contribution.

So with that suspicion creeping into my mental forefront, I began to fear.  Why was I here?  Did I seriously take out thousands of dollars in student loans for nothing?  Did God really lead me here, or was this entirely my own initiative?  The pangs of doubt and constant questioning led to an almost complete lack of motivation as I faced the most difficult semester I have ever experienced.  I thought last spring was tough, but this past fall was indescribable.  I love that my program emphasizes a canonical approach to Scripture, but Hebrew and the Old Testament in general are NOT my strong suits.  Call me Old Testamentally challenged.  And while I loved everything I was learning last semester, I struggled.  113 pages of writing and untold pages of reading will do that to you, I guess.  Being back in NT classes this semester has been a breath of fresh air, but it’s hard to forget last semester’s barely salvageable difficulties.

But back to the fear.  May 8th should be a day of celebration, but I had begun to fear it.  All I could see was either 1) not being able to find a job or 2) hating the job I found.  Those were the only two possibilities I could fathom, which is utter ridiculousness.  It wasn’t until I got an email about a ministry related position opening that something began to shift in my thinking.

I still have no idea what’s next.  Which is scary.  I wouldn’t say, as my friend quipped so long ago, that it’s easy to trust.  But I can say that He is faithful.  Has been, is now, and will be.  A couple Sundays ago we had a guest preacher at Parkview who spoke on faith.  I don’t really remember much of his sermon, only a brief anecdote he shared toward the end.  Just before we sang my favorite hymn of all time (based on my favorite Scripture of all time) he explained how formative it was for him to sing it in the church he grew up in.  As a little boy he stood beside eighty and ninety year old Norwegians proclaiming, “Great is Thy Faithfulness,” and even then he knew the truth of those words.  This predominately elderly congregation had earned the right to say no.  No, He isn’t faithful.  But they sang passionately about the enduring faithfulness of their God that they had experienced over decades and decades.  That is the most encouraging message I’ve heard in a long time.

Somehow I had forgotten.  I had let the hardships of the past year reduce my vision to the here and now, rather than looking to the past with gratitude and the future with hope.  I am faithless, but He is faithful.  It’s just who He is.

So rather than living in the doubt and depression of the past several months, I am choosing to remember who God is and what He has done.  It’s that remembrance that brings the “strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.”  Perhaps you can join me in this proclamation:

Great is Thy faithfulness!
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

Into the Mystic – Van Morrison
I had heard the original a few times, but didn’t fall in love with it until XRT played the Swell Season version on their Friday Feature featuring (haha) Van Morrison.  Gah, what a GREAT SONG.
I wanna rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in those days of old
And magnificently we will fall as we sail into the mystic

You Make My Dreams – Hall and Oates
Daryl and John are definitely hit manufacturers.  I must admit, I’m a little partial in light of one such hit (Sara Smile) despite their misspelling of my name.  This song, however, stood out this year thanks to the Ferris Bueller-esque scene in 500 Days of Summer.  Who doesn’t want to break into song and dance along with that hook?
Well well you (ooh ooh ooh ooh)
You make my dreams come true (you ooh you you ooh ooh you ooh)

The Book of Love – The Magnetic Fields
I found this band thanks to a lovely little independent film back in 2004.  I am thoroughly amused by the often quirky and cynical lyrics of Stephin Merritt.  This song, however, is just simple and beautiful.
The book of love has music in it
In fact that’s where music comes from
Some of it is just transcendental
Some of it it is just really dumb
But I, I love it when you sing to me
And you, you can sing me anything

Father and Daughter – Paul Simon
This one’s a long favorite, spanning back to when I surprised my then elementary-school-aged brother with a trip to San Angelo to see The Wild Thornberrys Movie since it was no longer playing in Abilene.  This song made sitting through an hour and a half of Nickelodeon animation totally worth it.  I was reminded of it again a few weeks ago in the grocery store after witnessing a simple moment of affection between a father and his young daughter.
I believe the light that shines on you will shine on you forever
And though I can’t guarantee there’s nothing scary hiding under your bed
I’m gonna stand guard like a postcard of a golden retriever
And never leave ’til I leave you with a sweet dream in your head

Heart of Gold – Neil Young
I heard a cover of this one recently which brought the harmonica heavy original back to my musical forefront.    The opening lines are particularly poignant and while he’s basically lamenting his own inability to sustain relationship, I am particularly drawn to them these days.
I want to live, I want to give
I’ve been a miner for a heart of gold
It’s these expressions I never give
That keep me searching for a heart of gold
And I’m getting old

Unfailing Love – Jimmy Needham
This one’s fun.  My church recently did a series on love, relationships, etc. … all that “yucky love stuff.”  A member of the praise team sang this song at the end of one of the services, and I don’t think there was a single girl in the place that didn’t want to shout “Yes!” after the soulful climactic “Be … my … wife …”
You’re my unfathomable, precious, unimaginable joy
And you’re exceedingly exciting and abundantly more than I can ask for
With your hand in mine we will pass through time and space
And every second, every minute, every hour of every day I’ll say …

One Day – Matisyahu
Not your typical love song, I suppose, but an eschatological hope for new creation to me has love written all over it.  And it’s just an awesome song.
All my life I’ve been waiting for
I’ve been praying for
For the people to say
That we don’t wanna fight no more
There’ll be no more war
And our children will play
One day, one day, one day

Low Rising – The Swell Season
I looked up synonyms for sexy (because I just feel awkward using that word … I know, I’m silly) and was given the word “toothsome.”  Yeah, not so much.  There’s just something about this song, though.  Hansard’s resolve toward restoration from the depths of relationship hell is just captivating.
I wanna sit you down and talk
I wanna pull back the veils and find out what it is I’ve done wrong
I wanna tear these curtains down
I want you to meet me somewhere tonight in this old tourist town …

When It Don’t Come Easy – Patty Griffin
I was introduced to this song via the opening act of a Waterdeep show I caught last fall.  I wanted to cry at the beauty of such a love that endures and pursues despite sometimes being one sided.
But if you break down
I’ll drive out and find you
If you forget my love
I’ll try to remind you
And stay by you
When it don’t come easy

Love Vigilantes – New Order
How did I not know this song until this year?  I heard Sam Beam cover it last May and didn’t realize it wasn’t his own until I heard the original playing in a Gap dressing room.  His slow version is more in tune with the song’s tragic ending, while the upbeat original somehow manages to highlight the unexpected twist of events.
I want to see my family
My wife and child waiting for me
I’ve got to go home
I’ve been so alone, you see

Let My Love Open the Door – Pete Townshend
I re-fell in love with this one thanks to Steve Carell’s rendition in Dan in Real Life.  I especially like the Sondre Lerche cover (whom Jayme and I got to see last fall .. even though he didn’t play this one).
When people keep repeating
That you’ll never fall in love
When everybody keeps retreating
But you can’t seem to get enough
Let my love open the door … to your heart

Head Over Heels – Tears for Fears
Hmm … not much to say on this one except I never get tired of it.  It’s the keyboard intro … and the concluding la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.  And maybe I get the whole unrequited love thing. 
Something happens and I’m head over heels
I never find out ’til I’m head over heels
Something happens and I’m head over heels
Don’t take my heart
Don’t break my heart
Don’t, don’t, don’t throw it away

Good Things – BoDeans
Even though it came out in 1991, I only found this one this summer … thanks to XRT.  It’s my official “crush” song, despite its improper grammar.
No, no, no
Don’t pass me over
No, no, no
Don’t pass me by
See, I can see
Good things for you and I

Don’t Forget Me – Neko Case
Again, didn’t realize it was a cover until I heard the original in a “This American Life” segment on amnesia.  A nostalgic plea to a lover long gone, Case’s rendition beautifully captures the ache of a relationship for which memories are all that’s left to grasp.
Don’t forget me
Don’t forget me
Make it easy on me just for a little while
You know I think about you
Let me know you think about me too

Okay friends, how ’bout you?  What’s your favorite love (in any sense of the word) song of the past year?  Of all time?

Sarah

Sarah and I began our journey together in the church nursery.  Although we’ve known each other our whole lives, it wasn’t until elementary school that we became friends.  Before that I thought she never said a word, and she just didn’t like me.  In fact, in first grade as I walked into Sunday school one morning, she told the other girls, “There’s Sarah Reed.  Nobody talk to her.”  We’ve come along way since then.    We bonded one summer at G.A. camp and grew closer with every youth group event from Disciple Nows to ski trips.  We grew up together.  Her friendship was a constant I could depend on through the awkward middle school years and on into high school.  I moved away for college, but we stayed close; Sarah made the five hour drive to visit me a few times, once with both our moms in tow.  That’s another thing: her family is my own.  Before Daniel came along, my best experience of brothers and sisters was the time I spent with Sarah, Holly, Ben, and Neil.  Our families have remained close throughout the years, and while I don’t get to see Sarah very much these days, on those occasions when I do, we always pick up right where we left off.  This break I got to see my beautiful friend with a shiny new addition to her left ring finger.  This summer my Sarah Kaye (oh yeah, we have the same middle name, it’s spelled the same way, and we’re both named after our aunts on our mom’s side) is getting MARRIED and I get to stand up alongside her to witness it.

So here’s to Sarah, “who shares my name, who has always been there and always will be, whose family is my own, who is beautiful on multiple levels.”

Stacey

Although she doesn’t remember me, I met Stacey on my first tour of OBU.  She was working the front desk and gave my family a tour of WMU.  The next year she was my RA, and the following year we were RAs together.  I have such fun memories of her whether it be zipping her up in my suitcase, making countless trips to Ted’s, or making interesting use of touch lights.  I remember in my RA interview being asked what quality I appreciated most about my RA, and without hesitation I mentioned Stacey’s ability to listen.  To this day, I think that’s what I appreciate most about her.  Rarely does she offer a solution to my problems, but she has a way of just really hearing what I’m saying.  We see things the same way; I often feel like no one in the world could really comprehend my way of thinking except her.  We actually only knew each other for a year and a half before she graduated, moved away and got married.  Since then we’ve traveled to the Little House on the Prairie and Chicago, back when I was first considering Wheaton.  Thankfully, she married a pretty great guy and then had some pretty great kids (3 … wow), and one of my favorite things about visiting Texas is visiting the Lucases (hmm … not quite sure how to pluralize that one).

And here’s to Stacey, “who was more than my RA, who I never want to leave when it’s time to leave, who (along w/ Randy and Molly & now Matthew and Callie) are my first family of friends, who I can talk to and feel like I am really understood and affirmed.”

Sydnie

Another RA friend.  I met Sydnie my sophomore year (her freshman) when as an RA I had to escort a workman to her room to fix something.  I noticed that on her “info sheet” posted outside her door that we shared the same favorite scriptures (Lamentations 3:22-24) and that she liked the Abilenian worship leader Jeff Berry.  I thought to myself, “We could be friends.”  And friends we became, but not until the following year.  Sydnie took Stacey’s old RA position, which meant we shared the second floor divided by the lobby.  The great thing about Sydnie is how easy she is to be around.  I don’t care what I’m doing, I just like her there.  She was with me when I fell down the stairs in the GC, with me for hours in the ER, and with me through six weeks of carrying my bag to class and my tray in the cafeteria.  We both like to talk, so there’s always a story to share, but she’s the kind of friend you can just be silent with as well.  Over the course of our friendship, she too met a boy, got married and had a baby.  I was the “first friend” bridesmaid a few years ago and got to meet precious Margot this Christmas.  I love my Squeegee Beckenheim!

And to Sydnie, “who was an authentic friend for six of the hardest weeks of my life, who I can sit comfortably with in a silent room, who I can laugh with, cry with and pray with.”

Stacey

The last of my “S’s,” I met Stacey just after the aforementioned ankle breaking of my junior year.  She was the small group leader of a Bible study my friend Amanda had invited me to.  Stacey’s passion for the Lord and enthusiasm for life was infectious.  I was constantly challenged to know and love God in deeper ways, and that group (which lasted in slightly different forms for three years) contributed as much to my spiritual growth as anything else.  Stacey invited me to lead a youth discipleship group, which further contributed to her discipleship of and investment in me.  And while I still very much look up to my sweet friend, a point came when we were no longer teacher and student, but rather peers.  I can tell (and have told) her anything and everything.  She has spoken more truth and encouragement into my life than perhaps anyone else, and no matter what happens we are tied together with an unbreakable spiritual bond.  It’s kind of bizarre the way God works between us sometimes, from scripture brought to mind, to calls to fast, to visions for life.  Who in the WORLD would have thought that something like Saturdate would have ever come to pass?  Yep, “We’re the kinds of folks who will always live right around the corner from something big.”

To Stacey, “who is my lifetime accountability partner, who is so much more than an accountability partner, whose passion inspires me, who I can tell (and have told) anything to, who shares my struggles and my strengths, who is a witness to my life and allows me to be a witness to hers.”

P.S.  (Is it weird to have a P.S. in a blog?) The quotes are from the blog I wrote almost five years ago.  I didn’t reread it until I had already written about each one, which only goes to show that the friends they were then, they remain to this day.  Much love, my precious S’s.