Some things are so big, life changing, and pervasive that it does not come naturally to mention them. Sometimes, however, it's useful to state the obvious so as not to take it for granted. I love my wife. She's pregnant with our first child and it's a boy. I could not be a more content father-to-be. May God prepare me so that I might adequately learn all the lessons he has in store for me during this time.

Car trips are great times to think. Eralda and I sometimes spend up to hours in the car at a time in thought. Then one of us speaks up and we end up having wonderful discussions. On one such trip, I was pondering exactly what it means to have a conversation with God. I've always been somewhat of a skeptic regarding this topic. I've heard people (whom I love and respect and know are being sincere) speak about having a talk with God where he told them what to do. For some reason this gives me the jibblies. If God began speaking to me I would probably need a change of clothes. I've been embarassed in the past to admit that I haven't been blessed by such divine chat; I've felt as though I just wasn't holy or faithful enough.

I'm stepping out on a limb here, so please be gracious. I've never been clearly and unmistakenly spoken to by the Spirit. Granted, there are times when I've had a feeling towards one choice versus another, and there have been times where I've been in the middle of committing a sin and I have felt reminded that what I was doing was bad. Forgive my skepticism, but could this have merely been my conscience? I'm not afraid of attributing things to God, and I have faith that he is active and involved in my life. What I am questioning is just how openly he intervenes. I think that when the Spirit moves you, it does so in a way that is perceptible but untracable. I think that it is faith which ascribes such things to God.

I think now that whenever I hear somebody say they have had a conversation with God, I will say "hallelujah!" because they have faith, and faith is an intimate, noble struggle. Any thoughts?

I remember one particular Saturday morning when I awoke in silence and sauntered over to the bay window in my bedroom. It was one of those 4:30 AM Lubbock mornings where there was enough light to see but the sky was entirely washed of color. I put on my pants with the back pocket big enough to fit my most prized possession (a Sony Discman with Electronic Shock Protection) and popped Counting Crow’s August and Everything After into the tray. I grabbed my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles skateboard and stepped outside. I pushed play on the Discman, hopped on my board and just cruised down 34th street as Adam Duritz crooned “step out the front door like a ghost into the fog where no one notices the contrast of white on white”.

I had endured some difficult times at that point, and at the time I had a poor concept of who God was. Music was my silent prayer, music was my hidden place. And while it’s hard to call the disturbed growling of Eddie Vedder uplifting, or the nihilistic musings of Chris Cornell very comforting, there is something about music that transcends any form of conscious thought, reverberates inside the places that make up who we are.

I will never forget the first time I heard Barber’s Adagio for Strings. My grandparents had given me a new stereo system and I had received a CD collection called “Classical Music for People who Hate Classical Music” from my mom because I think she was getting tired of hearing Kurt Cobain telling me to come as I am. I started playing one of the discs in the background while I was playing Sonic and Knuckles on the Sega Genesis. I could not hear the beginning of the song so I pressed pause on the Sega and went to turn up the volume on my stereo. What I heard next was like somebody telling me to sit down and be quiet while they tell you something that will irrevocably change your life. For the next ten minutes violins and cellos coursed powerfully through my body and I was powerless to stop the weeping. I sobbed for about 30 minutes after the piece was done, and couldn’t listen to it again for another week.

It was only later that I realized that what I was hearing was the unbearable sorrow of the cross (http://www.delmarscove.com/adagioII.php).

I don’t know what purpose these anecdotes serve other than to say that music has played a very formative role in my life and continues to do so. I would also like to invite any of my innumerable readers to leave a comment naming any particular song that has affected you, the situation surrounding it, why it means so much, etc.

Also, here is a playlist of songs that my wife and I picked out which possibly best represents our current musical tastes as a family:





The Arcade Fire (Funeral) - Tunnels
Badly Drawn Boy (One Plus One) - This is that New Song
Coldplay (Parachutes) - Don't Panic
Counting Crows (August and Everything After) - Round Here
Dave Matthews Band (Crash) - #41
Death Cab for Cutie (Plans) - Marching Bands of Manhattan
Eisley (Rooom Noises) - I Wasn't Prepared
Elbow (Leaders of the Free World) - Great Expectations
Frou Frou (Details) - Let Go
Innocence Mission (Befriended) - Tomorrow on the Runway
The Killers (Hot Fuss) - All These Things That I Have Done
Pearl Jam (Big Fish Soundtrack) - Man of the Hour
The Pernice Brothers (Yours, Mine, and Ours) - Weakest Shade of Blue
Radiohead (OK Computer) - Let Down
The Shins (Oh Inverted World) - Caring is Creepy
The Stars (Set Yourself on Fire) - Your Ex-Lover is Dead
The White Stripes (White Blood Cells) - We're Going to be Friends