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Posts Tagged ‘Audrey Assad’

Ruth at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town is rounding up this month’s Spiritual Journey posts.

I have been singing all of my life. I can remember being in a church choir when I was a teenager. We performed “Godspell” which is still one of my favorite musicals. I was never up front as a soloist but confidently following the alto line. I’ve been in our church choir for 30+ years.

Recently I’ve felt a weakness in my voice. Sometimes nothing comes out or notes crack. I never know when it’s going to happen, but I wanted to conquer it. Get my voice back. I made a play list on my phone I titled “I Have a Voice.” It includes songs like “A Beautiful Noise” by Alicia Keys and Brandi Carlile and “Little Voice” by Sara Bareilles. I’ve been singing along for a year. My brother, who is a professional musician, told me I just needed to sing more often. He suggested, “Set a time of the day that you will sing, like on your way to school.”

In the spring, I received an email from our local community theater offering voice lessons for the summer. I thought, “why not?” Lanie, my voice teacher, is young and talented. I’ve watched her in the theater’s musicals and she has a voice. What I didn’t know when I started was whether or not she could teach. She can! We’ve worked together for four weeks. Most of all I have gained confidence. I still have instances when my voice catches, but now I know not to panic. I relax my throat and move on.

Last Sunday I sang a solo of one of the songs on my playlist, “Little Things with Great Love” written by Audrey Assad. Her songs are poetic. They are not traditional, but they are thoughtful and deeply spiritual.

I was able to tell Lanie with a glimmer of tears in my eyes that I was proud of my performance. I don’t plan any kind of career in singing. I just want to “make a beautiful noise” and perhaps touch others with my voice. I think I accomplished that on Sunday.

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This month’s Spiritual Journey is being gathered by Karen Eastlund.

In these first few weeks of summer, I find myself lingering. Taking my time on my morning walk to stop and take a picture, visit with a neighbor, enjoy the bird songs. I linger over morning coffee. I know this is how it should be, but there’s this little mouse in my brain that thinks I should accomplish things. I sing to myself “It is Well”.

When peace like a river, attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well, with my soul

It is well
With my soul
It is well, it is well with my soul

Audrey Assad

Peace is my one little word for 2024, so I pay attention. Peace comes to me in songs, in the sounds of the birds, in the slowing down of summer.

When I stopped to take pictures in my neighbor’s garden, she said, “Now write a haiku.” She laughed, but that is what I did. Haiku is a perfect form for peaceful nature noticing.

Canopy of oak arms
reaching, tossing tumbling light–
peace attends my soul.
photo and haiku by Margaret Simon
Freckled lily blossom
Lonely lighthouse beacon
Pool of goldfish beams
photo and haiku by Margaret Simon

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Join the Spiritual Thursday round up at Reading, Teaching, Learning.

Join the Spiritual Thursday round up at Reading, Teaching, Learning.

Every week Holly invites us to write about our spiritual journey. This week’s theme is Leaving a Legacy. Too much pressure if you think about it, which is exactly what I do after she tweets out the theme. Carol wrote about leaving a digital footprint on Sunday. I told her that I don’t like to think about this because it’s intimidating. What if I’m not “leaving a legacy.” I am very good at assigning guilt to myself. I do much better in this digital platform when I just write what’s on my mind. When I am true to myself, most readers respond in a positive way and with a connection. This is more important to me than leaving a legacy.

Which leads me to playing with the word in a word play poem.

Legacy is a lofty word
leaning on me like
the preacher gripping the pulpit
pointing its accusing finger.

Legacy leaves me looking
too long, hoping to see
what they see, to know the secret
of a life well lived.

With its sharp turned back,
Legacy asks “Why aren’t you scrapbooking?”
Folding pictures into decorative pages,
making memories into 3 by 5 cards.

I’d like my legacy to be a flower
shrouded in beauty with strong scent
pressed between the pages of a favorite book
waiting there for you to find.

–Margaret Simon

Painted in Waterlogue

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Follow this link to read more spiritual journey posts.

Follow this link to read more spiritual journey posts.

I love the connections I have made through blogging. One of these wonderful bloggers is Holly Mueller. She wrote last week on Thursday about wanting to start a link-up, round-up, meme thing for Thursdays on the theme of the spiritual journey. I told her I was in, so here we are, another writing adventure. Please go to her blogspot using the link above and read.

Heron in flight by Beth Gibson Saxena

Heron in flight by Beth Gibson Saxena

I am at the lake. My parents moved here 24 years ago. It is not where I grew up, but they are here, so it is another home for me. When I come, I am immediately soothed by the calmness of water and the love my parents have for each other and for me.

Listen

to the banter of the birds.
They chatter and flutter for the feeder Mom sets out and tends to with her mothering hands. This morning, a red-headed woodpecker squished his long body up and stuck his pecker beak into the mesh of the finch feeder. Mom says he comes every day. “No finch has ever come to that feeder.” The sparrow waited its turn while Mr. Woody wriggled his beak in and out for a tasty treat. I watched and listened to the other birds. I love this sound, symphonic, syncopated, soothing. Silence is never really silent. I could close my eyes to meditate here and listen for the joy in my heart. It’s there waiting to be heard, like the laughter of my mother as she talks to an old friend on the phone.

We are called to be listeners. We should not chatter like the birds wanting to be heard. We need to listen. Listen to the wisdom of fathers. Listen to the song of the wind. Whatever is there…listen.

Sometimes we get so deeply involved with our own thoughts, worries, concerns to listen to others. We practice our own counter-story rather than listen to our friend’s story. On this spiritual journey, I vow to be a better listener. Then I may become a better hearer. In the silence of my heart, God speaks.

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