Thursday, July 26, 2012

What Is Saving My Life Right Now: Dark Places and The Boss

"What is saving you right now?" asks a woman I know only through a screen.  A woman I've never met.  A woman I feel like I know, through reading her ponderings, her poetry, her wisdom.

Like this other Sarah, I have a million theological answers based on the doctrines I hold so close to my heart.  I have a million lines of poetic prose I could write about my beautiful children and my selfless husband.  I have a million tiny scenes from nature that confirm Truth and beauty and I have a million more from books and art that do the same. But tonight my answer is something a little more raw and scruffy 'round the edges. 

My answer?  A man.  A man I've never met.  A man I feel like I know, through his ponderings, his poetry, his wisdom. 

Right before I started this post, I tweeted something about how music, specifically his music, does something for me that a pill never could. 

A couple of nights ago on the news, I saw a very short segment about a new article on my favorite legend, one in which this private man is heartbreakingly honest about his struggles with depression. His words, how they resonated.  Maybe there was a reason beyond just catchy tunes that I was drawn to him.

I still haven't read the article.  It's seventeen pages in the New Yorker and I'm waiting for the perfect moment when I can savor it.  I'm saving it the way one saves the best part of dinner to eat last, the favorite blogger's post until all others are read, or the sweetest outfit for the most special occasion.

Today was Peyton's day off and phones have been buzzing; two of the four of us have been to the dentist; we spent half the afternoon in the car and the other half pushing tired, sweaty kids around a walking trail a mile from our house; and then I felt the need to carve out time to email a friend about the inexplicably confusing world of cloth diapers. I love this life and the everyday is saving me, too.  But maybe tomorrow I'll sit and see what my hero says about his struggle and mine. 

I've already found myself so drawn to one line from the article, that was cited in the news segment:
"Those wounds stay with you, and you turn them into a language and a purpose."

He articulates so beautifully, so perfectly, what we feel when we hurt. 

A new prayer of mine is that I'll be better able to do the same things- turn my wounds into a language and a purpose. That is part of what I'm trying to do here, is it not?

Who knows who they could be saving?


Janet Oberholtzer said...

Hi, new here, from the synchroblog.

Thanks for the music link... listening to the man now :) And you make me want to read his thought also, because I've had my own seasons of depression.

Love the thought of turning wounds into a language and a purpose.


The Niemeyer Nest said...

Powerful as usual SD!

Caris Adel said...

Oh, I'll have to read that article, just from the sentence you wrote. I love seeing proof of beauty coming from pain.

Mallory Pickering said...

I relate. Well, not specifically to the comforts found in the person and music of Bruce Springsteen. But I look for words in books or music that I can relate to and derive comfort from them. A lot (obviously) comes from CSL. Right now Brennan Manning is speaking my language. And certain songs too. Words and songs that I can constantly go back to. Even their nostalgia is comforting.

Definitely an interesting post. You learn so much about people when you learn what they're drawn to and find comfort in.

Sarah Bessey said...

That is awesome! Springsteen? I'm so with you!

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