Independence Day

Well, happy Independence Day to us.

There are so many things from which we can obtain Independence. I think the biggest is fear: what people will say (or worse, think) about us; that we might do the Christian F-word (that's "fail," in case you were wondering); that we might be rejected and find ourselve friendless and alone. That we will never find "true love" and wander aimlessly with a broken and withering heart guarded in our pitifully hopeful and outstretched hands.

Some of these, I continue to deal with. Some I have overcome. I was reminded today that Jesus is the answer. Pretty simple, huh? When we focus our being, our living, the in and out of our breathing on the Creator-God whose whisper ignited our first respiration, and who will capture our last; when we focus our essence - thoughtmindspiritsoulactionreactionlovefearhope - on The One Who Created...well, those fears begin to melt. Perhaps that's an incorrect analogy. Fears are not like ice cubes, whose fate it is to freeze us out until the warmth of God can finally overcome them.

Fears are more like skyscrapers. When I stood at the base of the Sears Tower in Chicago on a frigid January morning, it was daunting in its pure monstrous height. Had I stood there until a millineum had passed, and like a scene from "A.I." or "The Day After Tomorrow," the whole of the building had frozen over and my bones long since withered away, the tower would still have retained its black, looming overwhelming-ness.

So perhaps fear is like that. But God is like an airplane. I can jump onto his lap/seat and strap in with the truth of his protection. I can relax in him, enjoy a sip of God-soda and nibble on some Jesus-pretzels and let him whisk me off to a new realitiy. You see, from my seat in my protected God-craft, yeah, for a while I can still see the Sears Tower. But what's that? It seems to be getting smaller. I'm certainly above it. It's no longer an oppressive hulk; now it's a 18-wheeler standing on end. I look again and it's the size of a pencil; then, perhaps a thumbtack. I can't be sure, it's getting hard to make out. Now, as I try to find it in the enormity of God's creation, it's just the head of a pin that blinks out of existence - or my ability to comprehend it - while I'm not looking.

Perhaps it still exists; perhaps I don't care. I'm too busy perusing the in-flight catalog of wonderful things that the owner/operator of this craft has in mind for me. The very essence of God's ability has wiped fear from my existence.

And so we have choice. We stand, freezing and sickly awestruck, staring up at the tower, or we refocus our attention on something much larger and enjoy the ride. People get ready, there's a plane a-comin'.

. . . "Remember that [by submission] you magnify God's work, of which men have sung. All men have looked upon God's work; man may behold it afar off. Behold, God is great, and we know Him not! The number of His years is unsearchable."

- Job 36:24-26

A wonderful description

As I continue my journey into sacred musicology, I have noticed that I am less and less concernd with the music itself - its harmonic intricacies, melodic nuances, instrumentation and purpose - and more with its cultural and spiritual influence and significance. Having mused on this for a few days, I was delighted when I friend of mine jokingly coined this following description. It is profound. For your reading pleasure and to know me better, here I am: Shannon Kropf, queen of rhetoric, specializing in culture with an emphasis in music.

Lovely!

Fear and Love

I had a dream last night that I did not recall until I was chatting comfortably with my husband this morning. I do not remember much of this dream, just one little scene and a whisper that there was quite a bit before. In this dream, I was in love - in the most pure, holy, wonderful, gentle way - with a man who was pure, holy, wonderful and gentle. He was beautiful of face and lovely of soul, and the yearning that I felt for him was of a sort that epic stories and fairy tale daydreams have only hinted at.

But the great tragedy of my dream was that despite what seemed to be a mutual admiration of the sort that could lead to the most original and pure kind of love, a love that cares not for itself but sacrifices unendingly, bursts open with renewal of new love, a love that is not afraid, the greatest potential for the purest human love that is born from the very heart of God, despite these things, he reserved himself from me.

I cried when I remembered the longing unfulfilled.

I believe that the biggest hindrance of purest love is fear. We are fearful that we will mess up, chose the wrong person, end up embroiled in the sticky tentacles of repulsion, or sadder yet, numbed by uncaring whose days march on into the infinite.

But what if...?

What if we were courageous enough to forget the hurts of the past? What if we embraced hope as the handmaiden of love? What if we believed that God is eager to give us the same kind of relationship He has with himself, deep and fundamentally fulfilling in its very nature? What if we threw our human wisdom and over-caution to the wind and embraced the great adventure of God like the eager children for which he wrote it? What if we could truly be ourselves, love ourselves? What if we could trust another human being so fundamentally that there was never a question?

What if we gave ourselves permission to try?

The great love is worth the cost.

"My lover spoke and said to me, 'Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me. See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.'"

-Song of Solomon 2:10-13

Random Thoughts

I need to hit the sack. Boy, do I. I just finished another section of another chapter of the Visible School music theory book. I'm getting quite swift at it now; I write the text and place the examples in Finale, and Dave gets the pages laid out in InDesign. All told, right now it takes me 1-2 hours to write a section, and about an hour to compose the example figures and homework exercises. Which comes out to 6-9 hours a week working on this. It's a bit of pressure, but I am hoping that the end result is a work of excellence without the unnecessary over-academia.

I am excited to say that I am going to get cranking on some new music and new creative projects soon. I have a rehearsal with my dear friend Cam and a new friend, Bryan, on Tuesday. God has placed a new sound in my heart, a worship and expression of life that simply...grooves. I hope we have fun. I simply want to sing and play and have a good time.

I am feeling generally healthier lately, which is lovely. Last week was quite rough. I was really on an emotional roller coaster and simply feeling overwhelmed with the amount of things that I must accomplish - there is no choice to fail - within the next three months. I know that God has been a faithful provider of time, energy, and resources for two years now as I have taught full time, written a theory textboon, gone to school full time, and been involved in some creative musical outlets. I can see relief coming in the form of a long break over the upcoming summer. I just pray that I can make it that long.

I think that's it. I'm trying to give myself permission to make mistakes. A big mistake for me right now would be to not go to bed this very minute.

Goodnight.

(Poopy old Patriots. Boooooooh.)

-S

Blue Man Group and Chicago Chop House

Promptly at 3pm today, we headed down to the lobby to find Darron, our helpful hotel staffer, and Abraham, our driver for the evening, waiting for us. I think Mama and Daddy were surprised, and Mama gave us a big hug when she saw the car. We made our way toward the Briar Street Theatre and Blue Man Group. It was great to drive north along Lakeshore Drive and see the parks, buildings, and frozen lake on the way up to the Northside. Abraham dropped us right at the front door and we waltzed right in. After picking up the tickets at will-call, we stood in the lobby, tightly packed, for quite a bit. It was very cool, with tubing running everywhere along the ceilings and walls. Mama and I went to the restroom. This next bit is going somewhere, so don't tune out. I was in the stall, finishing up my rest stop and noticing several things about the bathroom when suddenly I turned an ear to the "wallpaper" music. Much to my amusement, I realized that it was Blue Man Group music with vocals playfully singing "bathroom...bathroom." It was really charming and quite funny.

The doors opened and we slowly filed in. We had absolutely spectacular seats, on the sixth row, which is the first row of stadium seating, in the center. It was an amazing show! At one point, they do some spontaneous painting, and when they did, I thought, "I wonder what they do with that. I would love to have it." Happily, even though we were some of the last folks out of the theatre, it was still for sale and I bought it without one moment's hesitation. The show was fabulous, stirring, vibrant, funny, endearing, joyful, and engaging. The 1 hour, 45 minute show whizzed by. I highly recommend it for those who love edgy artistic experiences.

We came out and our car picked us up and took us down to Chicago Chophouse. Frankly, at first I wasn't sure about it. For the amount of money I knew we were preparing to drop, it felt a bit...um, I dunno...mob-ish. Or something. Anyway, we journeyed up to to the third floor of the historic building (amazing archive pictures lined the stairs all the way up) and were immediately seated.

The decor was deep hunter green with dark brown wood accents. Pictures of historic scenes from music to architecture adorned every wall, and from the front windows we viewed a residential high rise and some other buildings. Our service by Blanch and the wait staff was very good. The salads were average, but my wine was excellent. I ordered the house signature steak, a cut of prime rib which is seasoned and seared. It was both huge and magnificent. It was actually the tenderest steak I have ever experienced. Dave got a filet mignon which was absolutely incredibly huge. Daddy got lobster and filet which he seemed to enjoy, and Mama got some pork chops which were simply succulent and amazing. Despite our full tummies, we did manage to eat some delicious desert.

After leaving the restaurant, we asked our driver to take us down Michigan Avenue for a bit, which was wonderfully lit and lovely. We returned to the hotel happy and satisfied to find our Blue Man Group painting sitting safely in the room. How lovely!

An enjoyable day!

I still need to write about our day at Navy Pier, which I will do. It was quite fun, really. But my eyelids are getting a bit heavy now. Goodnight.

-S

Chicago is Fab

Well, we've had a busy couple of days! We're now wrapping up day 3 in Chicago and it's been fabulous. I could live here for sure, if given the dumptruck full of hundred dollar bills required to take up residence in this area! We've just returned from Blue Man Group and dinner at the famous Chicago Chop House. Dave and I secretly made arrangements with one of the hotel staff (Darron, thank you) to hire a limo for the evening. Mama had been asking about where we might go to dinner, etc, and I did my best to act completely uninterested each time she broached the subject. So this morning, as Mama and Daddy went down the lobby to people-watch and read the newspaper, we had Darron come over to them with a note requesting them to be in the lobby at 3pm. Of course, we played dumb, but the point was that we had a car waiting for us for the evening.

But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. This morning, we all ate at the hotel resaurant, a lovely breakfast buffet with fantastic service. At the next table were a family whose children felt the need to talk at an unreasonably loud volume - not yelling, mind you - and whose two daughters had brought their entire doll collection down to breakfast with them. However, the creepy little menagerie was nothing compared to the group of lively northern ladies who sat down next and proceeded to loudly discuss the differences between and habits of tranvesites vs. transexuals.

But I digress. While at breakfast, Daddy and I discussed the idea of riding the El around the downtown loop. After a few directions from the concierge and a bit of digestion, we headed down to the corner and CTA bus #66. We wern't sure where to get off the startlingly clean bus, but some kind and helpful Chicagoans gave us some clarification. We debarked the bus at the proper stop (Franklin) and after a bit of walking in the wrong directions, went into the train terminal and up the stairs. We must have looked pretty foolish trying to get our transfer cards to work. You'd think the big red arrow pointing one way on the card would give us a clue! The station and stairs were so old, obviously original to the El, and it was quite shocking to see such history in everyday use.

After a few chilly moments, we boarded the train and took in more magnificent sites of downtown Chicago. It really is quite a beautiful city with wonderful buildings, both old and new, and it is easy to see why Chicago is known as a home of stellar architecture. I could not believe how quickly the doors opened and closed - there is not a moment for indecision! In fact, when we were to have gotten off, we hesitated a moment because the name of the street was different than what was written on our directions. We wound up going quite a little bit out of our way, while I thought, OK, well, we'll just grab a cab and go back. Luckily, once we got off the El, we were able to simply walk back underneath and up again without having to buy another ticket.

We made it back to the hotel without much more incident, though the bus was much more crowded this time around. So that this particular post doesn't get ridiculously long[er], I will continue today in my next little post.

-S

Welcome to Chicago

I am sitting happily watching downtown Chicago from my hotel room's picture window. The city's steel and concrete buildings push ever upward; the windows of the 20 or so buildings which lie directly in my view have a calming symmetry. They both protect and free us. There are straight lines and squares everywhere; the buildings, the windows, the squareness of their features. To the west, if you can bring yourself to look down, there is one snaking street among many straights ones, and I am fascinated to watch the taxis and buses trickle down this concrete tributary. To the east, though I cannot see it from this angle in the room, is Lake Michagan, defying mankind with its curving edges. It looks frozen, though I do not know if this is possible. We arrived in Chicago yesterday. I do not know what time, as I try to forget such things while on holiday. I do know our plane was late leaving Memphis. After an uneventful cab ride into the city from O'Hare, I was happy to find that our hotel is elegant and roomy with a wonderfully friendly staff. Since it is my mom and dad's 35th anniversary, the staff kindly put us in the highest floor of the hotel, the 26th, which is a priority floor. Everyone on staff has been amiable and incredibly helpful.

After we settled in for a bit, we ventured out to find lunch. The temperature was only a few degrees above zero, and of course we are in the Windy City. The cold was nearly unbearable, and after walking for about 3 blocks, we tucked into a TGIFriday's to eat simply because we could not bear to walk any further. We were just off Michigan Avenue on the Magnificent Mile, which still has lights in all the trees and was really quite charming.

After a longish but good meal at Friday's, we walked briskly (double entedre intended) back to the hotel, stopping quickly in a Starbucks to warm up and grab Dave a cup of coffee. We jaunted right back up to our room to warm up.

Which proved a bit difficult. Because it was so cold outside, the windows simply continued to chill the room. I was still fully clothed and in my hoody when I crawled under the covers to warm up. Eventually, I had a nice little warm nap. Unfortunately, we simply cannot leave the curtains open at night because the air is simply frigid. In fact, we found ice coating the indside of our window! Who knew we would need an ice scraper for our housing?

We lounged about for several hours, and at one point Dave and I ran downstairs to make the arrangements for our trip to Blue Man Group and dinner afterward. I will tell you more after that experience! Then, about 8:30, we headed out for Giordano's, the original Chicago style pizza joint.

I am happy to say that we had a great time there! Dave said, "I don't know what I was expecting, a dive I guess, but this place is really great!" We had a great ethnic waiter, who happily warned us that our stuffed pizza would take about 45 minutes to cook. We unhurredly munched on appetizers and had some good conversation. The huge pizza arrived, and though I could only eat one piece, Dave managed 2 and Daddy chowed down on 3 pieces! We grabbed a cab for the 3 or 4 blocks back to the hotel, and it was worth every non-frozen penny to not have to walk in the frozen terror!

Today we are off for a day at Navy Pier, including shopping, some fun things, a couple of meals, and Polar Express in 3D at the Imax Theatre. More later!

-S

Happy New Year

2005 has rolled around to my neighborhood...as evidenced by the number of people screaming next door. This has been an unusual New Year celebration for me. I only felt like staying in my own house, alone (husband Dave has a gig). My intense desire to sit here and chill out has caused me to consider that perhaps 2004 was my Year of Exhaustion. My year ended fittingly and quietly with a hot shower, followed by a satisfied and sanguine slouch on the couch at 11:58 to watch the perennial televised drunken celebration. I think this cleansing rest is entirely fitting.

I hope that 2005 becomes the year of learning to be myself again. On a search for my forgotten self, lost on the pilgrimage path of performance and duty, I am already beset by noisome trouble from next door; the decibels eminating henceforth I had hoped to leave behind in my college days. Indeed, I am convinced even now that it my be louder than anything my tender collegiate ears my have encountered. So much for suburbia.

So, my ideas for a quiet time of prayer are spoiled. But then, I am reminded that we are not so easily to fit into the culture of our times. So perhaps I shall embrace the thumpy bass that vibrates the delicate skull plate which happily resides between my ears as a reminder that ultimately, this is not my home, but that I embrace a higher hope for joy, fulfillment, love, faith, hope, and yes...even a little rest.

Happy Election Day

Today marks the 12th anniversary of my first date with my husband. It was a grand night of quiet conversation and lots of laughter. That was also an election day. I was also in college then, as I am now. I voted on that day, as I will today. In my mind, it was also rainy, as it is today, though I freely admit that this might be the product of an over-romanticized memory. At any rate, the paralles between that day and this are striking. As with any lovely date, we didn't pay much attention to the politics of that night, and I discovered the next morning that Clinton had carried the vote. That was the last election in which I voted, succumbing to the then-popular malaise found commonly among the 18-24 demographic who have yet to have anything at stake (so they think). Of course, I will remedy the oversight of my voting record by making the dutiful and time-honored journey to the local high school to play my part in the unfolding of a nation.

There is no point to this entry except remembering. So, yeah.

Revelation...

I may have one of the larger housecats in North America.