The Fall

Every year, as the U.S. Open tennis tournament draws to a close, the subtleties of fall begin to sneak into play. I looked out the window the other day and noticed that five or six leaves on the tree I was staring at were just starting to turn yellow. It would have been easy to miss--especially considering the schedule I keep sometimes, but I'm glad I didn't miss it this time.

The fall means so many things to me. It means football, cool weather, memories of hay rack rides, the "Great Pumpkin" Peanuts episode, and it means it's time for my annual pilgrimage to New Mexico to teach at a writer's conference while enjoying the company of good friends I haven't seen since the previous conference. It means shutting off the television once in a while and getting lost in a great novel, or even a mediocre one. It means spending Friday nights with friends at a coffee shop. And of course, it means Christmas isn't all that far away.

I'm a bit of a sentimental sap. I admit it. Fall just does something to my sentimental side. It provokes it to wake up and slow down.

Traffic Encounters

I stopped at an intersection this afternoon, with my turning signal on—ready to turn left. A car was coming from the opposite direction, so I waited for him to pass so I could make the turn. Another car stopped behind me and waited for me to make the turn. He had no choice. The approaching car stopped and turned to the right into a place of business—never even getting as far my car or the car behind me. No turning signal; no regard for me or the people in the car behind me. It irritated me, but it won't be the last time I get irritated in traffic.

A couple of minutes later, as I was pulling out of a parking lot, another car approached the same exit I was headed toward. He didn't see me at first, but from what I could tell, he had the right away, and even if he didn't, I knew he hadn't seen me, so I slowed down to let him go. He noticed me then and stopped. I waved him on and he put a hand up thanking me. And then he did it a second time. As you might imagine, I had a much different attitude about this driver than the one I encountered just a few minutes prior.

You never know what is going on in another driver's head. He or she might have just received terrible news and is consequently distracted. Maybe he or she is headed home to care for a terminally ill spouse or child and the thought of doing it for even one more day seems too much to bear. Or yeah, maybe the other driver is totally self-absorbed and doesn't care about treating other drivers with courtesy. But with so many other possibilities, it makes me want to give other drivers the benefit of the doubt.
Photo credit: Rita Mezzela

Melanie Oudin: Believe

Before the U.S. Open tennis tournament, Melanie Oudin designed a tennis shoe for Adidas with the word "believe" stamped on her heels. That should tell you a lot about her fighting spirit. The 17-year-old set a goal for herself at the beginning of the year to make it into the main draw of the U.S. Open. She did. But the 5' 6", 130 pound ball of tenacity wasn't content to simply show up. Once she made it into the draw, it was time to fight.

She won her first round match. In the second round, she shocked the tennis world by defeating Elena Dementieva, who was seeded number four. Oudin's belief grew. Then she knocked former number one player in the world, Maria Sharapova, out of the tournament and not only did Melanie's belief grow, but ours did too.

Check out this video on YouTube, shot by somebody who was in the crowd. It's the last point of the match; pay special attention to the left side of screen--when a woman shouts "We believe" and see if doesn't give you goosebumps. Then watch what belief looks like when the crowd reacts to Oudin's win.



Most recently, Oudin came from behind to beat Nadia Petrova, the ninth seeded player, to make it to the quarterfinals. Who knows where her run will end? Personally, I'd like to see her win it all. Imagine how the crowd would react if that happened.

Over the Rhine in concert

One day last week, I pulled out my Blackberry to read my e-mail. Over the Rhine had sent out one of their e-newsletters and I always find them thought-provoking, so I read it. I didn't get very far before I saw that they were scheduled to play in Omaha on August 17. OTR is one of my favorite groups and I've never had the chance to see them live—and from what I hear, live is where they excel, so I started begging friends to go with me. Thankfully, one caved.

We got to the club where the band was scheduled to play and we were stunned by how small it was. I think I counted eight tables on the main floor and there were maybe another eight tables on a level above us. We got there early to get a good seat and we took one of the tables on the main floor. By the time the show started, there were probably 150 people packed into the little place—many of whom stood near the stage when OTR came out.

I found this photo on Twitter that someone took at the show:


OTR is mostly comprised of the husband-wife team of Linford Detweiler and Karin Bergquist (shown above). They hire musicians to tour with them to make up the rest of the band. If you haven't heard their music, I'm going to have a difficult time explaining what it sounds like. The funny thing is, iTunes can't squeeze them into a category either. I own six of their CDs and here is the genres iTunes lists them under: rock, classic rock, pop, and singer/songwriter (that's a genre?—wouldn't all groups fall under this category?).

But forget their genre. Their music is magical, emotional, hair-raising, honest, real, gut-wrenching, playful, soul-searching, and as close to describing the human experience as any music I've ever heard. Listening to them feels like you are being opened up a by word surgeon who isn't looking to fix your body, but instead is focused on your soul. The difference is, a normal surgeon works on you while you are asleep. OTR performs surgery while you are wide awake.

They opened the show on Monday with a song called "Born" from their CD entitled "Drunkard's Prayer." It was a perfect way to start the show. Here are the first few verses:

I was born to laugh
I learned to laugh through my tears
I was born to love
I'm gonna learn to love without fear

Pour me a glass of wine
Talk deep into the night
Who knows what we'll find

Intuition, deja vu
The Holy Ghost haunting you
Whatever you got
I don't mind

Put your elbows on the table
I'll listen long as I am able
There's nowhere I'd rather be

I love the way this song starts—a person who is born to laugh must learn to laugh through her tears. It doesn't come naturally. And while we might be born to love, it doesn't come naturally either. We have to learn to love without fear.

Deep down, humans long for intimacy. We want one other person to know us for who we really are and we long to be accepted once we are uncovered. As a single person, I dream about finding a wife who would sit down in front of me with a glass of wine saying, "Tell me everything, I'll listen as long as I'm able—there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

People listened to "Born" in silence. I think we were all overwhelmed by the intimate setting of the place that seemed like a rundown club just a few minutes prior and by the power of the music.

A couple of songs into the set, they played "I Don't Want to Waste Your Time." I've written about that song here. On the band's website, Detweiler elaborates on the message of this song:

"Believe me, we don't want to waste anybody's time. When we stop believing we're doing our best work, we're done. Every song has to be good, every record has to be great, every concert has to have some spiritual significance—something that we can't quantify, something bigger than all of us."

From my perspective, they are succeeding.

They went on to play so many great songs: "I'm On a Roll," "The Trumpet Child," "Drunkard's Prayer," "Don't Wait for Tom," "If a Song Could be President," and "Ohio." I got goosebumps when Bergquist sat down at the keyboard and began playing "Ohio." I wrote extensively about that song here a few months ago.

As I look through their catalog of music, they could have played so many more great songs—most notably "Latter Days," but they would have needed to be on stage four or five hours to do so.

I told my friend on the way home that OTR puts a voice to so many of the changes and hardships I've gone through in the past five or six years while at the same time making me completely aware of what I crave: an understanding wife, a slow deep life, and the belief that God is the overseer and orchestrator of it all.

If you've never seen OTR live, you must check their tour dates to see if they are coming to a city near you.

Dancing in the Rain

"Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness has never danced in the rain." --Unknown

My mom called me this morning. One of the first things she said was, "What a depressing day this is." It was raining and overcast and she hates days like these. I, on the other hand, love days like these. Always have.

The funny thing is, after hanging up the phone with her, I flipped the pages on my desk calendars (yes, I'm actually vein enough to keep the desk calendars I've compiled for Barbour Publishing on my desk) and the quote above appeared for August 19 in the 365 Inspiring Moments from the Great Outdoors calendar, which prompted me to say, "Yeah, exactly."

I like gloomy days because they set the mood for staying in and when I think about staying in, I think about reading a good novel, or writing in my journal, or watching a good movie. This is how I dance in the rain. It's almost like the weather is giving you permission to stop running around long enough to enjoy yourself. Yeah, I know you can have fun in the sun too, but it's not the same for me.

The Ordinary

Have I really been gone for an entire month? Wow. Guess that's how it goes in the life of a blog. You spend time with her whenever possible, but sometimes life pulls you away. And so it goes.

A few of the things that have been on my mind lately include:

• I started reading The Diary of a Young Girl recently (better known as "The Diary of Anne Frank") and it's confirming so much of what I believe. I'm moved by how ordinary Anne made her life sound in such volatile circumstances. On one hand, she was afraid that the Gestapo would find her family and she knew what would happen if they did, and on the other hand, she went on with life while in hiding. She read books and journaled about them. She studied math and French and complained about them. She chronicled the squabbles of the two families (hers and another) who were in hiding together over such things as which linens and dishes should be used. The ordinary routines of life seemed to give her a sense of normalcy, and when it comes right down to it, that's what most of us are after—even in the most extreme of circumstances.
  
  
  
• I'm writing a couple of news features for a local newspaper this week. As I interviewed the subjects of the stories, I found it fascinating to listen to the ways in which God is working. In one case, a family feels called to live in a foreign country simply to be a light in a place of much darkness. They don't have any agendas. They simply want to help people. In another case, a pastor shared his heart with me about the people of Scotland. He recently returned from a trip there, and seeing God at work there has stirred his soul. Good stuff from people who are making a difference.
  
  
  
• The Moleskine notebook I'm currently using has plenty of room left in it, so I'm not in the hunt for a new one yet, but somebody needs to convince me not to cheat on the Moleskine brand with the new (to me) Piccadilly brand. From what I can tell, they both offer acid-free paper, they both have a similar look and feel, and Piccadilly is about half the price. Piccadilly also has fewer pages, but not enough to detract me. Has anybody tried Piccadilly notebooks? If so, what is your take? I found this review that really makes me want to give them a try.