Music and the Spirit

Many times during this journey  the Spirit spoke to me, answered my prayers and gave me comfort through music, specifically hymns. I want to document one of those tender moments. First, there is something you need to know about me. My life is lived with a constant backdrop of song and lyrics. I can’t remember a time where music wasn’t a daily function in my life. I am not particularly talented but I love the lyrics which read as poetry to my soul and I love each musical resolution in the chord progressions. In my youth, not to insinuate that I am in any way old, I sang and sang, probably to the complete irritation and annoyance to everyone around me.

I learned to read the written word through the hymn book at church. Each time we sing, “I Need Thee Every Hour”, it reminds me of the astonishment I felt as a tiny little girl when I realized that the first 3 words were all long vowels and that Need and Thee were from the same “family”. Church was hard for me as a kid. I am hyperactive and have never sat well. I am impulsive and have difficulty keeping my mouth shut since I process and experience my world through words. If I was truly listening and understanding I NEEDED to verbally summarize and apply was what being said……not completely appropriate in a quiet setting.

Each Sunday walking dutifully behind my parents I only saw the two leather bound books in my mother’s arms. There were no quiet books, snacks or colorful pictures to capture my attention. The only entertainment was the scriptures and the hymnal. Being a person with a 10 second attention span, the pages and pages of seemingly millions of words found in the scriptures were just abstract works of art done in black and white. I didn’t find the magic in them till I could truly read. The hymnal, at least, had a rise and fall of the notes on the page. There was the top and the bottom and then the lyrics settled beautifully in the middles of the two. I loved that beautiful blue book.

The hours spent on the bench each week truly were agonizing for me. My legs dangling from the bench went numb but it wasn’t respectful to put your feet up, “no sense stepping on Jesus”, yes, I was raised in the Bible belt and there has been some southern Baptist influence. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand the importance. My heart and spirit were “there” I just hadn’t learned to master my body yet and the tingling legs didn’t help. I am sure I felt many ear tugs or “taps” on my head to correct my bad behavior.

Each week, as I recognized more and more words on the page the difficulty of the quiet was filled with the sound of music. For me those lyrics were like an ancient day “Where’s Waldo”. It was like a multisensory learning game. I, not only, started to knit the words together with meaning but as I was “reading” the tune, harmony and melodies would play in the background. It is the same for me today.

Generally, if you were to watch me during the Sacrament, you will see me with my tiny personal hymnal. During the quiet times I read and re-read the lyrics to my favorite hymn. It is always interesting to me that each week I am drawn to different hymns and most often the lyrics are exactly what my heart needs to hear.

You may be asking yourself what this has to do with Maddisized. I cannot even begin to articulate the number of times during those most difficult days that a hymn would spontaneously and without conscious thought begin to play in my mind with the lyrics complete and in the undeniable, recognized voice of the Holy Ghost.

One of the first songs to occupy that unconscious space was, “Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me” (104). This song has always been a favorite. The familiar and easy melody with its hypnotic harmony made its way into my heart as a teen.

The first verse rang true to me because I could visualize being tossed and thrown against the waves. That was my exact feeling.

Jesus, Savior, Pilot me over life’s tempestuous sea.

Unknown waves before me roll, hiding rocks and treacherous shoal.

Chart and Compass came from thee, Jesus Savior, Pilot Me.

My life felt like a dangerous sea that was out to swallow me and my family whole. I had no idea where this journey with Maddi would take us just like the angry waves tossing a helpless boat over its blue canvas. There were too many hidden and dangerous things that I couldn’t see.

With the PROMISE of direction in the metaphor, “Chart and Compass came from thee”, I knew that Jesus WOULD Pilot me through this journey. Actually, this song is where I came up with the idea to use Journey to signify what we were going through.

I wanted a neutral term that would allow me to focus on the positive rather than a word like “accident or tragedy” and I needed a word that signified movement and that this moment was temporary and things would get easier.

“As a mother stills her child, thou canst hush the ocean wild.

Boisterous waves obey thy will, when thou say’st to them “Be Still”.

Wondrous Sovereign of the sea, Jesus, Savior Pilot Me.”

Even though Maddi was “still” and in a coma at the time, I had the deepest desire to comfort, fix and communicate with her. I was desperate to hear her voice or see her eyes. It gave me great hope that if the Lord can hush the wildest ocean and water must obey him then if it was HIS will, Maddi could recover………… and if not, he could hush my metaphorical “ocean wild” and I would obey and I, too, would be still.

The usage of the Sovereign and Wondrous in the last line along with the plea for Jesus to take over at the helm created the deeply personal and internal picture of me relinquishing my boat to his expert care. When the anxiety, fear and despair would creep in I would return to that picture of handing it all over to my Elder Brother who knew me and loved with a love I hope one day to be able to return in kind. I need a great artist to capture that moment for me so I can hang it in a prominent spot in my home.

“When at last I near the shore and the fearful breakers roar.

Twixt me and the peaceful rest, then while leaning on thy breast.

May I hear thee say to me, I will Pilot thee”.

Nearing the shore the waves are sometimes the most dangerous. You have to get through those “breaking” waves to reach your destination. To brave those waves you have to put aside your Fears and take them head on or else you are likely to capsize with your goal within sight. For me, the promise of leaning on the Lord for strength and putting my fears aside felt like manna. I didn’t eat much during that time but spiritually I was on life support for my strength. To further the little video clip going on in my head, the feeling of being held by my Savior and the peace waiting after I rode those terrible waves of recovery….. gave me an incentive and strength to press forward.

In spite of the day to day relevance and the history this hymn has for me there is a story attached. I have a nephew that received his mission call and his “un-farewell” was schedule just shortly (a little more than 3 weeks) after the accident. Maddi was still at Primary Children’s in the Neuro-Trauma Unit. She wasn’t really improving much. She had experience her first bath and John and I were enrolled in a crash course. We were learning the basics for long term invalid care, brain injury and the far reaching adjustments looming in the future. We had endured the worst case scenario and learned that Maddi would live but the HOW of that life was still in question.

John and I were torn about attending. We wanted to support our nephew and we wanted him to know that we love and care deeply for him but leaving Maddi at that time was so difficult.

At the time we could only tell from the monitors that Maddi was distressed when we left. Ultimately, I called either my mom or my sister; I can’t recall which of them came. Knowing that we weren’t leaving Maddi “alone” was such a blessing for us. How grateful we were for those many family members who stayed with Maddi when we absolutely had other things we had to attend to.

Going to the “un-farewell” was a symbolic gesture of accepting the life we were engaged in at the time. It was an attempt to look past our survival mode and for us to re-enter the world of other people. John’s family is huge and many of those people we had not seen since the accident.We didn’t want to miss an important event but we feared we would overshadow the joy of his day with our situation. So, we intentionally arrived with very little time before the meeting started. We found seats by some dear friends and the meeting began.

My favorite part of church is the singing of the hymns. If they ever stopped the music I would seriously think about worshipping in the mountains or something. I am sure the songs fit the season and the occasion but the only song I could hear was “Jesus, Savior Pilot Me”. The ringing of it in my ears drowned out any other music. The Spirit was conversing with me and supplying me courage. I don’t know that you are ever ready to embark an unexpected and undesired journey but that day and with that song, I found a very relevant story woven between the music and lyrics. I was hanging on each chord and word for strength.

I don’t recall much of what was said in the meeting, the stress of the situation made everything a fog. I remember reading and re-reading the words to that hymn throughout that entire meeting. I don’t remember if I even spoke to anyone directly except for my nephew. I hugged him and wished him well and told him that I knew he would make a great missionary, that his service would change him forever and that I loved him. It probably didn’t mean much to him but I meant every word of it.

I thought about him and prayed for him and his family when he entered the MTC just 3 short days later.

I thought of my own missionary son out in the field and how our experience was affecting him.I reflected on the short phone call when we told him about his sister with emotion and compassion pounding in my heart. I prayed for him to find a working place that would allow him the peace as he finished his work. I worried about how strange our life and family would seem when he returned six months later. I contemplated the idea that perhaps Maddi’s recovery would be seen as one of the missionary blessings.

As the meeting ended we exited “stage left” quickly not wanting to cause a scene and we purposefully didn’t go to the luncheon afterwards because we wanted it to be HIS day, not a Maddi press conference. On the drive back to the hospital I desperately wanted to find this experience to be a nightmare instead of my reality.

My heart was heavy missing my other kids who were more than 100 miles from me. I missed my own ward family and the familiar rock behind the pulpit. I missed the comfort of my own bed. I missed the laughter of my daughter. I missed our “nightly” family scripture and prayer together and the weird irreverent humor that always seems to come out at that time. I even missed the heated debates that happen across the dinner table.

I wondered about our life if Maddi didn’t improve and how that would affect my dearly loved but nearly grown children. I wondered how we would recover ourselves. Life seemed so uncertain.

“Jesus, Savior Pilot Me”…. continued as we parked in our usual spot and walked the long succession of steps to the doorway leading to a different life.

As I paused reaching for the handle the cadence and final resolve of the song rang through to center of my soul…….

“Fear Not, I will pilot thee.”

…..and I knew HE would.