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Zurich Day 1: Ode to God and Starbucks and Sir Roland the Benevolent
One might read this title and think this is a story of finding familiarity amid a strange and foreign land. Starbucks is, after all, a home away from home for so many – myself included. But this is no tale of mochas or frappuccinos.
The morning spent sleeping off jet lag, our first afternoon in Zurich was filled with warm welcomes from Doug's new colleagues at the University. At 8:45pm, after much decoding and a little help from the locals, we managed to buy passes for Tram 10 and headed down to the Main Station for a late dinner. Our stroller is rather large so getting on and off in the seconds allowed at each stop is a bit unnerving. We barely managed to get on. As we rode through the city, we knew getting off would be our next challenge. The tram rolled to a stop, I grabbed the back, he grabbed the front, and we were off. Awesome. Go Team Woodhams! Until...
"Wait. Where's my…oh, no!" Doug cried.
"What?" asked Audrey.
"The bag! It's on the train!"
That's right. Down the tracks to Lord Knows Where went our money, our passports, and our map, not to mention a load of diapers. We looked down the tracks only moments after the tram left to see only an indecipherable maze of rails. With no way to run after it, we panicked.
Doug began looking on every #10 that came back our way. A passerby said our tram wouldn't make it around for another 40 minutes. She gave a number we could call but, apparently, pay phones don't accept coins or cash here, only cards. Without a wallet, we had no way to make a call.
"Oh, God, oh, God, help us," we both mumbled under our breaths.
Quickly we formulated a plan. There on the corner stood Starbucks. It was the one recognizable place. Doug would keep looking in the trains. I would take the baby, go in, and ask to use their phone. And if we got separated, that's where we would meet.
The young lady behind the counter was less than helpful.
"Can I use your phone, please? It's very important."
"No," she said flatly. (I should note here, in our short experience, this is not at all the norm. The Swiss have been very kind.)
"But, please," I asked. "We left our bag on the tram. We have no card to make a call. Can you tell me where I can make a call?"
She helped another customer. "No, you can't use this phone," she said, and had no suggestions for where I might find help.
Abe, who had been sleeping soundly in his stroller, began to stir. With no other recourse, I picked up my baby, looked that Swiss blonde in the eye, and begged.
"Please. Please help me. Where can I find a phone?"
With a grimace, she finally said, "Wait here."
Moments later, like a knight clad in all black, Roland emerged from the back. He, we soon learned, was the manager, just off duty. Like a sword from its sheath, he pulled a cell phone from his pocket and made the call. He translated my plight to the operator who called all of the #10's, discovering that, yes, they had our bag. The conductor would deliver it to us when he came back around in half an hour. I ran out to tell Doug the good news.
Sir Roland gave us hot chocolate while we waited. Just as he said, at 9:51pm, up pulled Tram #10. The nice attendant handed us our bag – passports, cash, and diapers intact. Ahh, the efficient and friendly Swiss.
"Thank you, God, thank you, God," we both said out loud.
So, with this adventure of a first day behind us, we are pleased to announce that the Woodhams family, plus 12 bags and change, made it safely to the other side of the world. Thanks for your prayers...they are definitely being answered. Customs was a breeze – literally. We walked right through. And Abe is doing well – quite a little trooper.
Much love to you all. More to come…
Audrey, Doug & Abe
The Woodhams family and our entire household at Dulles airport.
Downtown Zurich.
See more pictures
September, 2007 - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Today God showed me something. He used the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
I was about 12 when the TMNT first came on the scene. My brother, Alex, was 10 and obsessed with Raphael. “Turtle Power!” he yelled as he karate-chopped doors and furniture around the house. “T-U-R-T-L-E Power,” rapped The Hit Crew. We packed into a sold-out theater for the movie premier and cheered the Turtles and April O’Neal as they vanquished the bad guys.
That year I was asked to run for 8th Grade Reporter. It was a big deal in my school. (PMS, it was called. Pocahontas Middle School.) The nominees would video a speech to be shown in front of the whole grade. As I pulled out pen and paper to craft my address, inspiration struck. I began to rap:
“My name is Audrey Hatcher and I’m here to say, I’m running for Reporter of the SCA.”
By the end of the evening, I had 3 verses and a killer hook:
“A-U-D-R-E-Y Hatcher!”
I was a little nervous to go through with it, to actually let this be my speech. But with a little encouragement from a beloved Social Studies teacher, I donned my favorite blue skirt and matching sweater, fired up my Casio and rapped my heart out.
“Vote for me and I’ll get the job done
And we’ll show everybody that we are Number 1!
A-U-D-R-E-Y Hatcher
Audrey Hatcher for Reporter!”
The speeches aired. I won the election.
Today, as God called all of this to mind, I thought, “How gutsy I was!” Pardon me if that sounds like tooting my own horn, but rapping in front of over a hundred fellow classmates? Come on. That’s brave.
Lately, I haven’t been so courageous. I’ve felt pressure to please everyone. I’ve been afraid of disapproval. Reminding me of my young fearlessness, God showed me that He made me to be brave, to be a risk-taker. He said I could learn a lesson or two from my 7th grade self, and it’s ok to be more like her.
I wonder how many of us need to hear such permission. Remember that moment in middle school when you finally told that bully what’s what? …the time in high school when you got up the nerve to ask Melissa Richardson to dance? …times in Kindergarten when you painted pink polka-dotted monkeys and purple trees?
Jesus said, “I have come that they may have life, and life to the full.” (John 10:10) I meditate on that. I think it at least partially means that Jesus sets us free to be us. We put our trust in him, we believe he is who he said he was, and he gives us life to the full. He says it’s good to be me, and it’s good to be you.
I need to rap a little. You may need to dance or sing or just hold your head a little higher. Jesus gives us freedom to be who he made us to be. How wonderful.
“C-H-R-I-S-T Power!”
October, 2007 - Good ‘Ole Jay
It's 11pm on a Monday night. Doug is asleep. Most nights in the Woodhams house Doug winds down around 9:45pm, just as I'm starting to feel my best. He's changing into his pj's, longing to crawl between the sheets just as I'm coming alive, wanting to talk about feelings and my latest epiphany. Ahhh, the adjustments of marriage. We've heard people say, “Always go to bed together.” We've tried that. He nods off within seconds of his head hitting the pillow while I end up staring at the ceiling for the next several hours. We finally decided I should get up and do something.
So here I am, watching late night TV. Leno is funny tonight. I like him better than Letterman. Don't get me wrong – Letterman is funny. But I get the feeling that, if ever I met him, he might poke fun at me. I’m sensitive about such things. Leno, on the other hand, would be friendly. I know this for a fact.
When I was in the 8th grade, my class took a field trip to Washington D.C. While we waited outside the White House (back when your 8th grade class could get a tour of the White House) someone shouted, “Hey, there's the Dorito Dude!” Sure enough, there he was – Jay Leno. Remember those commercials?
“Dorito Dude! Dorito Dude!” we chanted. Hearing us, he pivoted and did his little Doritos dance. “Crunch all you want, we'll make more!” he said, and came over to sign autographs. I was taking pictures like crazy, so much that he looked right at me and said, “Hey, you're taking too many pictures of me! I should take some of you.” With that he grabbed my Minolta and snapped a photo of me and my friends. The story made news in the big city paper. My 13-year-old heart felt pretty special.
Amazing how it doesn't take much to make someone feel important. Equally noteworthy is how long the memory of that kindness can last. Here I am, 15 years later, up late again and still feeling warm and fuzzy about good 'ole Jay.
Cupcakes for a co-worker… washing your neighbor’s car… Do you have an idea to bring a smile to someone’s day? Let us seize those moments where a gentle word or a simple generosity will make a lasting difference.
Email your ideas to info@audreyhatcherwoodhams.com to share them in an upcoming journal entry!
June 18, 2007 - Mystery Smell Drama
Finally, we are unpacking the last few boxes in our new new apartment in Harrisonburg, VA. ...No, that wasn't a typo. This is our NEW new apartment. There grew an odor at the first place, a stench we thought would air out but only got worse. Now, over three weeks after leaving Nashville, we just brought in the final load, again.
Isn't it enough to be pregnant and move to a different state? Was mystery smell drama really necessary? Doug pulled the Penske truck into the drive and I thought the long ordeal of packing and moving was finally over. I expected to get some much-needed rest. Instead we found ourselves surrounded by a stink that exaggerated my morning sickness and made our noses bleed.
Perseverance. The word kept ringing in my ears. "Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us," Paul admonishes the Hebrews. And to the Romans: "Rejoice in your suffering for suffering produces perseverance, and perseverance character, and character hope." I'm always amazed at how cheerful Paul can be standing waist deep in sewage.
"But I want my apartment!" my sense of entitlement raged. "I want OUT of this lease and out of here, NOW!" I wanted to march down to the property management office, show those ladies my bloody Kleenex and give them what for.
Still perseverance was the whisper. Forbearance. And for some reason, the whisper came with a strong sense that this time, it was important. So for the next 16 days, as the ladies behind the desk made one futile attempt after another to rid our place of the smell, God gave me the grace to smile and say "thank you." He gave me the strength to trust that He would make it all work out. (I should put in here that Doug didn't need as much grace and strength as I did - wonderful, easy going guy that he is. He did have his moments, but God helped him out, too.)
And here's the great thing: Through the ordeal we ended up becoming friends with those property management gals. There I was, ready to bite their heads off, when really they were the nicest people, and the greatest help to us in the end. As it became apparent that no air filter, no air deodorizer, no Ozone-ator machine would ever clear the air of that smell, those fine ladies were the ones who fought for us. They arranged for us to get out of the lease, no lawyers, no fees. And God pointed the way to a sweet smelling apartment for us down the street.
We persevered and, as the promise promised, God gave us character - character, in this case, to be nice and not mean, to build relationships instead of tearing them down. Maybe it wasn't on the scale that Paul was talking about, but for this homesick, morning sick pregnant lady, it was quite the victory.
June 1, 2007 - Harrisonburg, Baby, etc.
So much has happened!
In the early part of this past April, Doug accepted a 1-year position at James Madison University in Harrisonburg, VA. We had known for a while that a transition was coming for him in his job - we just weren't sure when or where the change would lead us. Frog labs are few and far between in the world. To save our dying amphibians one must be willing to move to Australia, Madagascar, Switzerland…even Harrisonburg, VA. We prayed that God would lead us to the right place and, when the time came, JMU seemed like the right choice. In the morning, Doug took the job. That afternoon, we found out we are pregnant.
That's right, I said pregnant. Prego. Preggers. With child. If you're shocked, join the party. Moving AND expecting? Wow. Talk about a transition. But once the initial "wowsers!" wore off, we both were, and still are, very excited.
Over the next four weeks, I packed and napped, packed and napped. Friends came over to help box dishes and load the truck. We realized quickly how much love and support we have in Nashville. Funny how that becomes most clear when it's time to leave.
Perhaps now you understand why it's been a few months since the last entry. We're still getting settled here in H-town. (I don't know if it's really called that. I just think it sounds cool.) More later…
Happy Summer,
Audrey
February 28, 2007
Hello, everybody! Just a quick note to say 'Greetings!' I hope you all endured winter without too much trouble (God's strength to our friends in the Midwest!) and that you're enjoying the first hints of spring. Doug and I celebrate our first wedding anniversary this weekend. Hard to believe! Time flies so fast. I hate to sound like a broken record, but thank you all so much for your support of me, the music and this ministry. We continue to see God do great things and enjoy meaningful times of worship in His presence, and we know we wouldn't be out there if it weren't for you. God keeps showing us how much He loves to work through community. So thanks so very much for your kindness, prayers and support, and please don't hesitate to let us know how we can be there for you.
Blessings to you all for a happy spring!
For His glory,
Audrey
January, 2007 - Adam's Car
I’ve been bugging Adam to write the story I’m about to tell you. You know Adam - the funny tall guy who bravely toured with me the past few years. Anyway, this story, it’s so amazing - worth telling to anyone who will listen. But he keeps saying he’s too busy. As if having two boys and being on the road 150 days a year is an excuse. So I guess I’ll have to be the one to relay this incredible account of God’s faithfulness and sense of humor.
It’s no secret that the life of a musician is, well, financially precarious. One month you could be just fine, paying all your bills on time and handing out twenties to homeless guys and small children, and the next you’re wondering if you’ll have to call Great Aunt Sally again for help buying groceries. This is especially so when playing for churches. Truth be told, the court musician's life often leans hard toward the "calling Aunt Sally scenario".
And so, Adam and his family, believing that Adam is called to this sort of ministry, have chosen a life of trusting God for every bill, month to month. They keep a journal of all the ways God provides – sometimes checks coming in the mail, sometimes an audience member slipping Adam a $100 bill, sometimes CD sales being more than expected and the artist passing along the love. Last I heard, they had upwards of 300 entries of God’s faithfulness to provide. But nothing tops this one.
One night not long ago, Adam and his wife, Laura, knelt down to pray, and Laura prayed something like this: “God, I am so grateful for this way You have us depending on You for everything. Thank you that we get to see your provision. God, if this is the way we always live, depending on You for all our bills, then that would be ok with me.” Wow. Telling God it would be ok to never have “financial security”? What a milestone. The willingness had been growing in her heart, and she was ready to let go.
Just a few days later, their car broke down. Keep in mind – this is the only car for a family of 4, 160,000+ miles, no air conditioning, you get the picture. And it breaks down. But get this: Adam and Laura were happy about it. That’s right – they were excited. “What is God going to do?” they wondered. For the first time, they were confident that God would provide and totally expected a miracle.
Adam was actually disappointed when it turned out to be just a dead battery. “We even had the battery under warrantee,” he said. Not exactly the big miracle they were hoping for. That weekend, as scheduled, they headed down to Alabama for a show.
While there, Adam and Laura went on a double date with friends Ronnie and Leslie. “Let’s take a picture,” Leslie said. And as she brought out the camera, Ronnie handed Adam a small Tiffany’s box. Inside was a set of keys...to a brand new 2006 fully loaded Buick Rendezvous. Evidently, three months ago, God told someone (who wants to remain anonymous) to buy the Moritz family a car. It just took some time to take care of paperwork and such. And what a car he gave them. Leather interior. You name it, it has it. Paid in full, insurance covered for a year. “And Audrey,” Adam said, “it rides like a dream.”
So now the Moritz’s cruise Nashville in their new Rendezvous. Isn’t God amazing? And a little funny, too. I think He added in the part about the battery going dead just for extra drama, to make the story better.
Too often we worry about how we are going to make ends meet, when we should just wonder and wait to see how God will take care of us. Too many times we are afraid and money wins out as the deciding factor in life’s decisions. I’m not saying we all should be irresponsible. I balance my checkbook to the penny. I just think we don’t expect enough of God. We don’t expect big things. We don’t realize our Dad is really stinking rich. We can follow Him and trust that He will give us exactly what we need. I heard that Derek Webb has given away 68,000 free downloads of his album, Mockingbird. Amazing. Now there’s trusting God for provision. And the Moritz family, though they glide down the interstate on heated leather seats, still trust God for the gigs to come through and the money to be there when it needs to be. May we all live so fearlessly.
"No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money.
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”
Matthew 6:27-29
A final note of thanks:
To Adam, Laura, Brehm and Elijah, thank you for your support these past four years. You have given so much for the Kingdom. I am grateful to have worked alongside.
Blessings,
Audrey
October 23, 2006 - My Observed Birthday
On this sunny October morning, I sit at my desk with a warm cup of tea. Fall is in the air. The oppressive heat and humidity of summer have finally flown south. Leaves are changing. Autumn in Nashville is glorious. The brightest of reds, oranges and yellows explode alongside every street. Days are still warm but nights turn chilly. It reminds me of high school football - pulling out the heavy coat, sitting high in the bleachers, sipping hot chocolate, rooting the Powhatan Indians on to the State Championship two years running.
The first hints of cold weather are so nostalgic. That's one of the reasons I chose this day to be my Observed Birthday. "Observed birthday?" you ask? Allow me to explain.
My actual birthday is Dec. 23rd which, laden with last minute Christmas shopping, Christmas cantatas, and Christmas parties, is the worst day of the year to try to celebrate a birthday. So a few years ago, following what must have been my fifteenth discourse on the woes of having a Christmas birthday - no party since I was 5, friends always forgetting, etc., etc. - my wonderful friends instituted an "observed" birthday to be celebrated in October. After all, we do it for George Washington and Abe Lincoln. If George's birthday falls on an inconvenient Wednesday, you move it to Monday and take the day off to party. Now I have the same luxury and let me say I'm happy as a lark. Already, two friends have called to sing "Happy Birthday." Ginger crooned the tune in her signature Vaudeville style. Doug is making dinner tonight. Life is good. Adam and his wife, Laura, had their first son on December 26th. I've already suggested the Observed Birthday tactic to them.
So before the wonderful craziness of the holidays is here again, I wish you all a lovely fall. May you have time to walk through a forest of falling leaves, may you take a moment to breathe deep the crisp air, and go Indians!
September, 2006 - Destin Sunsets and the Mysteriousness of God
It rained all day here in Destin, FL. I had planned to go to the beach to even out my tan (I should say burn) but the downpour had me inside all day answering emails instead. It actually felt good to work - too much relaxing and I start to feel anxious. But by evening the rain finally let up, so I walked myself down to the dock to catch the sunset over Pensacola Bay. Sunsets after a storm are always spectacular, and this one was no exception.
Have you ever tried to take in a sunset all at once? I think it's impossible. You stare at the center, the place where the sun is actually going down, and admire all the brilliant oranges and fiery reds. God is apparently not afraid of color when He paints. He seems to like big canvases, too. Much higher in the sky, all the grays and dark blues move slowly, brooding eastward. Spots of purple linger to the south. Edges of clouds still white shine so brightly they look like glass. Human eyes cannot entertain it all.
In years and beach trips past, I must admit I spent most moments like this thinking of boys: the ones I liked who didn't like me, the ones who liked me who I didn't like, and the ones who maybe liked me who wouldn't make a move. I would watch the sunset and dream of what it'd be like if one of them were there with me. This time I'm happily married, and ironically grateful for these moments to be by myself, alone with God. Funny how life goes. But this particular sunset does remind me of one situation involving a boy from my past.
In the winter of 2001, I began dating this guy - we'll call him Bill. Bill and I both thought for sure that we were going to get married. But the following summer, because of issues and circumstances, we parted ways. I sought God for months, and finally believed that He still wanted us to be together. And so I waited. It was difficult, to say the least, but for two and a half years, I turned down other boys who asked me out. Some people must have thought I was crazy. Sometimes I thought I was crazy. But I kept seeking God, and at the end of every day truly believed I was doing the right thing. Then, in the summer of 2004, Bill started dating someone else. Two months later they were engaged, and two months after that, they married.
Thus began my journey experiencing the mysteriousness of God. Why did that happen? Was I just wrong? If so, why didn't God show me? Or did He try to show me and I just didn't listen? But I was reading scripture, seeking Him, hearing wise counsel. How could I have missed it? Did God allow me to suffer, knowing I would never marry Bill? But that seems so cruel. If that's the case, how can I trust God now knowing that He could allow me to go through such heartache and disappointment again?
So many questions. A few months later I found myself at a monastery in the hills of Kentucky, overlooking the valley below, pouring my heart out to God. It was there that I realized maybe I would never know the answers. Maybe those three years of my life will always be a mystery. I recognized, too, that this might not be the first time I walk with God through something I don't understand. If He is bigger than me, if His ways are higher, then it stands to reason that I will not always be able to comprehend His path. The real question is this: Am I willing to follow and trust, even in the darkness, even through the mystery?
I think that, sooner or later, on one level or another, all of us who follow Jesus will be faced with this conundrum. One of my best friends, Beth Ann, last year finished up grad school and moved to take what, by all accounts, was the perfect job for her. Four months later, the position was terminated. She is still seeking the Lord for what to do now. Another friend, James, found out he had Crones Disease at 23. Just as he was recovering and went off to seminary, he was diagnosed with lung cancer. A round of chemo and he kicked the cancer into remission, but then the Crones flared up again. One of my old roommates, Rachel, lost her dad when she was 18. I remember her telling me the same thing. We all have to decide, will I trust God when it's hard and I don't understand?
And so we have the song and the title of this new CD - Mysterious You.
Sometimes things don't go like I thought they would.
I end up feeling confused and misunderstood…
When an easy answer won't suffice…
Somehow still I know Your way is worth the price…
Mysterious You, You know I'm hanging on for the ride.
Mysterious truth, You know I'm hanging on for life.
There's my answer. I admit it's taken me a little while to get to that place. Noticing all the blessings around me, seeing God work powerfully in people's lives, experiencing Him work in mine, being with Doug, seeing how wonderful and good for me he is - all this has helped me trust that God really does know what He's doing. God is like the sunset - so brilliant, so beautiful, and so mysterious; I can stare all my life and never grasp it all. In awe, I am compelled to a new level of surrender where I admit "I'm hanging on for the ride - hanging on for life."
June, 2006 - Folding Towels
Married. I am married. Many of you know this is a new development. For those of you just tuning in, after a mere 6 months and two days of dating, Doug Woodhams - a.k.a. Dr. Amphibio (he researches amphibian immune systems at Vanderbilt) - surprised me with a sapphire engagement ring. Four months later, on March 4th, we tied the knot. Talk about a whirlwind. The days since have been great - and so full of adjustment. Case in point...
Doug is at home this Sunday afternoon having "alone time" and I've come to Fido, arguably my favorite coffee shop, to escape the clutter of our apartment and try to maintain a sabbath from housework. There's so much to do! Sort through wedding presents, do laundry (there's so much now that there are two of us), cleaning, grocery shopping, change name on all official documents, unpack more boxes...the list goes on and on and on and on. Doug, as per usual, is laid back and groovy about the whole thing. "We'll get to it when we get to it," he says. I, however, hear the piles of laundry and sinks of dirty dishes taunting me, heckling, insulting my competence as a wife - even my very womanhood - until all is properly cleaned and put in order. For there to be peace in my mind and soul, towels must be folded in thirds and then quarters and stacked neatly in the second shelf of the hall closet with ends to the back so only the fluffy part shows. Beds must be neatly made with all tags in the lower left corner. All throws in the living room must be folded and placed over the arm of their corresponding couch or chair.
I'm confessing to you my sickness. No joke, one of the first and most heated discussions Doug and I had in our new home was over spoons. Apparently, if I loved him enough, I would understand his need for the little spoons to be in the front of the drawer for easy access. However, clearly, if he loved me enough he would see my great need for the big spoons and big forks to sit happily and properly with the knives in the front of the drawer. Doug also wanted to put his stereo (the black kind with detachable speakers - reminiscent of the beat boxes breakdancers carried on their shoulders in the 80's) "in the living room on the floor by the door or in front of the shelf," he said. Such might seem a normal concession for any relaxed, emotionally sound human being, but the episode nearly sent me into hyperventilation. Hi, my name is Monica...errr, Audrey...and I have a problem.
I remember sitting on the couch with my mother at a very young age, watching Days of Our Lives on the tv, her teaching me how to fold towels - lay it across your lap, fold long ways in thirds, then over in half, then half again. Even now, 20-some years later, I find solace in things being properly done and in order. Doug calls this neurotic and OCD. This morning in church, God told me I ought to consider listening to my husband. He gave me a little nudge and showed me a piece of my heart. All this change - new address, new husband, new way of life - is a lot to take in. Its wonderful, such a blessing and oh-so unsettling.
Every day is new. Before all this happened, I was accustomed to feeling quite in control of my little life. These days I wake up and don't know what to expect. Some moments I find myself so overcome with joy and happiness I don't know what to do with myself. Then, strangely, in only a moments passing, elation turns to sheer anger or confusion or even despair. And my coping mechanisms kick in. What better way to escape such impossible swings of emotion than to throw oneself into a To Do list? I say, when feeling out of control, do laundry. Confused? Scrub dishes, fold towels. Having trouble adjusting? Run errands, torment your poor husband to keep his feet off the coffee table. Control what you can! Obviously, God has a better way, and so He was telling me in church this morning.
I suppose this is the place where I could relay to you the secret - the gem of wisdom He showed me. But church was just this morning and it's only approaching 5pm. That's usually not enough time for me to fully learn a lesson. But if I know Him, it'll probably have something to do with trusting Him more, leaning on Him and giving Him a chance to help me. Such is a recurring theme between Him and me.
So many of you have sent your congratulations and best wishes our way, and we are truly grateful. It's hard to think of a time when we have felt more loved or thankful for our community of friends and family and brothers and sisters in Jesus. Still others of you have asked about the honeymoon. To that I say we went to Jamaica and the weather was wonderful, and that's all I'm saying about that.
I'm happy to announce we've begun pre-production on the next album, and I couldn't be more excited. About two years ago God began to impress on my heart to do an album of worship songs - ones I've written or co-written over the past several years. I have to say I was reluctant at first (I like singing me some sad love songs), but God has moved in my heart and still grows in me a love of worshipping Him and coming into His presence with His congregation. My work with the Crucible and Precept Student Ministries has had a lot to do with that. And so I very much look forward to bringing these new songs to you later this summer.
May God bless you all - wherever you are, whatever your place in life as you read this. May He bring you His peace, His understanding, His comfort and encouragement this moment and in all the moments to come. Amen.
January 15, 2006 - Rocking Mason to Sleep
Hello, friends! I hope you all had wonderful holidays! All is well here in Nashville. After writing and praying and planning and writing some more, I'm excited to report we have set recording dates for the new album and are planning a release date for this summer! Stay tuned for more details. Also, as many of you can imagine, I have been up to my ears in wedding planning and pre-marital study books. I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say, Doug is conducting research deep in the rain forests of Panama (that's right - Panama the country) and I have been deep in the throes of list making, address getting, and apartment finding. He comes back on Thursday and not a moment too soon! And did I mention I'm moving into what will be our apartment in two weeks and have barely packed a box? Ahhh! But today, praise the Lord!, I have a welcome respite from all this transition. Today I get to play with little Mason, yet another child God uses to teach me important life lessons.
Mason is almost 8 months old, but has a look of wisdom beyond her years - like she's just taking it all in for a conclusion she plans to reveal at a later date. If you can make her laugh, you feel like you've won the lottery. Mason and I have only known each other a few months now. Still, we go way back. I entered the scene when 5-month-old Mason was thick into the arduous process of learning to calm herself to sleep. Now I understand that parents around the globe have a variety of valid bedtime routines and techniques. Some chose to rock their children to sleep every night until the first day of Kindergarten. Others chose a more strict method, allowing their babies as young as 2 months to learn to soothe themselves to sleep. After much discussion and deliberation, Mason's parents opted for a plan somewhere in the middle - hoping to give their child the gift of falling asleep without needing someone next to her to do so. But Mason (dubbed "Shoulder Monkey" as her favorite place in the world was and still is on the shoulder of any warm and willing adult) was not too keen on receiving this gift. Never mind that this new skill would make life much easier for her and everyone else in days to come. She wanted your shoulder, and a cold mattress was to her unacceptable. And so, the teaching and learning process began.
When bedtime arrived, her eyelids hung low, and she was generally mad at the world for want of sleep, I would (as the routine went) hold her and rock her to calm her down. We'd walk back into her room, turn on her sleepy-time music CD, and I'd hand her her favorite lamb. Then I'd lay her down in her bed, say "good-night" and walk out of the room. All would be well for about 10 seconds, until she figured out what was happening and realized she could voice her discontent. Then, of course, crying - screaming even - ensued. But usually within a few minutes, protest would give way to exhaustion and she would fall asleep.
Weeks went by, and Mason made great progress. Many times she even went to sleep on her own with no objection at all. She was getting used to her crib - quite the accomplishment for a little baby. But one afternoon, overcome with exhaustion, Mason was not at all happy with our bedtime ritual and decided to let her gripe be known. I was in the next room listening to her, coaching her from the other side of the monitor to just relax and fall asleep. Of course she couldn't hear me, but still there I was, hurting with her, but knowing I couldn't rush in to swoop her up lest I destroy all the progress she'd made thus far. And so my attempts at telepathy continued: "It's ok, Mason. Just go to sleep." Then, suddenly through the monitor I heard a cry I'd not heard before - a cry of sheer desperation, a cry I could not ignore. I rushed into her room to find this exhausted little baby desperate for sleep yet resisting with all her might. My heart was moved. Oh, how I wanted to just pick her up! That would make it all better. She would most certainly be happy and immediately fall asleep on my shoulder. Oh, but then I would be doing her such harm, for I would be stealing from her all that she had learned, and she had come so far!
And so I got down low, so that she could not see me, and crept toward her bed. I crouched beside her and began to rock her crib from side to side. She still had no idea I was in the room, but felt the sway as she cried, and nodded off to sleep. And as I comforted her from my secret place, I felt the Lord impress upon my heart, "How many times has this been you and Me?" and I knew what He meant.
So many times I simply need to do what He has told me to do, to trust that, even if the lesson is difficult, it is for my good and maturity. Still so many times I cry out in protest, refusing to submit because I want my way, because I don't understand. And how many times has God heard my cry and hurt with me, but lovingly denied my protest in order to give me a greater gift? How many times, then, without me even knowing, has He crept near to comfort me in my distress? More times than I realize, I'm sure.
As these last few weeks of winter give way to spring, my prayer for all of us is that we will embrace God's lead in our lives - that we will hear Him and obey and not hold anything back, trusting that He is good and He will give strength and comfort along the way. God's great blessings to you all.
November 1, 2005 - No More Nunnery
Well, friends, I have news......I'M ENGAGED!!!!! Doug Woodhams - biologist at Vanderbilt, fellow youth leader at our church (which is how we met), and awesome man of God - foiled whatever plans I might have had to head for the nunnery when he proposed Sunday afternoon. Actually, I think the nunnery option went out the window on our first date. Doug (a.k.a. Dr. Doug, Dr. Amphibio) is super wonderful. We had talked about getting married but I didn't expect him to pop the question so soon. What a great surprise! God is so good. Let His praises be known! His timing is wonderful and His gifts worth waiting for. We are so excited and grateful to share this with all of you, and we ask for your prayers as we prepare for this new season of life together.
1 John 4:16
And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love.
Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.
Blessings,
Audrey
September 1, 2005
It's a warm Sunday afternoon in Nashville, but my basement apartment is still quite chilly. So rather than ask the people upstairs to turn on the heat, I grabbed a couple of books and this journal and took myself down to a window seat in the village coffeehouse.
I've been coming here ever since my freshman year of college. I remember thinking how oh, so cool it was, how it reminded me of some place I'd only seen on tv. I'm from the farm, you see, where the hot local hangouts were Uncle Jim's field down by the river and the Dairy Queen out by the stoplight. So you can imagine my delight when I first walked in - the smell of espresso in the air, the local artwork hanging on the exposed brick walls, non-Top 40 music playing overhead, people way cooler than me working behind the counter, folks of every imaginable walk of life coming and going. And all this on the main strip in the village - the bohemian-esque district of Nashville. I was, and still am, in heaven.
Eight and a half years later, I wouldn't call myself a "regular," but I rarely set foot in here without seeing someone I know. In fact, I was just pleasantly interrupted by Krista and Nicole - two great gals, friends from college. They took a seat a couple tables over. Just before they walked in, I was thinking about all the memories I have here, how so much of my adult life is somehow tied to this place. I think I've pined after boys and shared meaningful conversation with friends in all four corners of every room in this coffee shop. Here in the middle room my old post-college gang used to pull all the tables together to play Take 2, a highly addictive speed game involving Scrabble pieces. I shed a few tears a couple times as we gathered here to say farewell to friends who found their grown-up jobs and moved away, and I've run through the doors elated to reunite when one of those old pals breezed back into town for a visit. At the booth on the other side of the counter I scheduled the first recording sessions for my first album, and the pictures for that album were taken at one of the tables out on the sidewalk. I had my first meeting with my first music business producer at the table next to me. And at the corner table in the back room, a boy who would eventually break my heart convinced me to give "us" a try.
So I have lots of wonderful and not-so-wonderful memories here. Now if you really want to know the truth, I usually don't return to places where sad things have happened. I don't like looking over at a spot and being reminded of regret or loss or rejection, so I generally just stay away. But it's different here. Whenever I come and take a moment to look around and remember, somehow I don't feel sad. I feel thankful. All my successes and failures - all the holding on's and letting go's of my young adulthood - come together in these rooms and somehow being here I am more at peace with it all, with who I am and where I've been. This little coffee shop teaches me that if I run away from the place where my heart broke, I will be running away from the place where it soared, the place where it just might soar again.
So I'm drawn back to spend another lazy Sunday afternoon at one of these wobbly tables. I suppose I'll put down my pen here in a second and read a little more of Anne Lamott's Bird By Bird, and I'll go over and chat with Krista and Nicole before heading home. One more memory made.
March 15, 2005
Happy New Year!!!
Ok, so I know it's March. But it seems like just yesterday I was rushing off to find last minute presents to go under the tree. And now it's not only March, it's the MIDDLE of March. March is half over. I can't believe it. Nashville is already working her way through her annual bout with seasonal schizophrenia - no joke: yesterday it snowed and today's high was 70 degrees - and before we know it we'll be freaking out over swimsuit season all over again.
How did this happen?!? When I was a kid, time moved so slowly….8th grade seemed to go on forever. A week away at camp seemed like a lifetime. Summer break was a blissful eternity. Now life just flies by. One minute you're trying to find something half way decent to do for New Years and the next you're carving a pumpkin. What's going on? I've heard it said that, when we were 10, a year was a whole tenth of our existence, so it seemed really long, whereas when we're, say, 30, a year is a mere thirtieth of our existence, so it's relatively much shorter. This makes enough sense to me and brings me to a sobering conclusion: I'm getting older.
I've been told this would happen. Guess some part of me didn't believe it - I thought I would stay in my early-mid 20's forever -- but I turned 26 over the holidays and I'm starting to understand. You see, I can't sit Indian style very long anymore -- my knees pop and my legs cramp up. And I can't eat the same junk food I used to - my stomach makes noises and I start to feel bad. And I can no longer go on less than 8 hours of sleep without serious consequences. I used to look at the clock at midnight and think the night was still young. Nowadays, anytime after 9:30 pm is, well, "LATE." I think I've turned a corner.
But I'm thinking this whole "getting older" thing has its perks. First off, I can go on a date with an older man without freaking my dad out (too much). That's nice. And the way I figure it, the older I get, the less likely I am to do something stupid. I mean, I think I'll always do and especially say stupid things. My prayer before every concert is that God will help me make it through the night without utterly putting my foot in my mouth, and if I manage it through without any major incidents, it was a good night. Moreover, I have noticed lately I don't worry so much anymore about what people think of my outfits or the zit that regularly makes an appearance on the side of my nose. I no longer obsess so much over fads and I'm starting to see through the marketing gimmicks on TV (ok, I'm probably late on that one). I'm more ok with saying "no" and usually a bit more confident when I say "yes" and I don't feel the need to apologize for my likes and dislikes anymore. That's huge. For example, I don't like spinach or sweet potatoes or drinking milk from a glass or doing dishes or exercising or slumber parties. There. I said it. See…that felt good. Maybe this whole getting older thing is good after all.
So, Happy New Year to you all…3 months late or 9 months early, depending on the way you look at it. I pray all the greatest blessings for you. I pray that your secret and most profound hopes will come true, that you find strength for your struggles, and that you know God's love and design for you more this year more than ever before.
December 9, 2004
My little brother graduates from college this Saturday - an event I refuse to miss - so I'm flying home tomorrow, just for the weekend, to see him throw his cap in the air. Alex is 23 now, 6' tall and quite handsome with Mom's dark brown hair and Dad's baby blues, but I still think of him as the 8 year old who wowed us all when he single-handedly rescued the princess of the original Super Mario Bros. I had barely made it to Level 4. As if that weren't enough, he repeatedly beat me bad at Tetris, too. For all the hours he spent with a controller in his hands, his thumbs had to have been the most developed muscles in his body. Truly, you didn't want to go up against him in thumb war.
Now he's days shy of his degree in Computer Sciences. My knowledge of his field stops there. I really don't know what he does, or what he will do when he gets a job doing whatever it is that he does. He's tried to explain it to me but I don't get it. I remember seeing a textbook of his once that had a big C++ written on it. This frightened me. Somehow the music major in me instinctually knew to step away from the book and slowly yet deliberately walk away.
I do know, however, that all this means I'm eating some serious crow. You see, when we were kids, I gave Alex the hardest time for his Nintendo obsession (retaliation, I'm sure for my wounded pride). Video games weren't my idea of the track to success. There I was, 14, the pompous academic overachiever chiding him for his infatuation with Donkey Kong. But now it seems that all that "beating the game" business really did pay off. Whatever it is that he does, it's my understanding that people who do what he does make significantly higher salaries than independent recording artists like myself. Not that money is everything, of course, but five years from now when he's flying the family to Florida for Christmas he'll surely be entitled to the 'I told you so' smirk he'll inevitably have on his face.
Things often don't go as we expect, huh? I thought I was headed for a distinguished career in law or journalism or something like that. As it turned out, I discovered my inner wanna-be-Wayne Kirkpatrick and cast aside my Type A-ness (pardon the pun) to be a starving artist while Alex's thumb flexing will soon have him running the world. I thought I had it all figured out. I was nowhere close.
So as I finish this helping of crow and take another bite of my side of humble pie, I consider: It seems to me that, more often than not, things don't go as expected. We work so hard to carefully add "a" with "b" wholeheartedly expecting a predictable "c" for a solution, only to find the result is not "c" after all. We discover (in hindsight, of course) some hidden variable that caused a completely unexpected result. Either that or we just get swept up in life, assuming that everything adds up in a certain way and is headed in a certain direction. How many times then does the bend in the road take us utterly by surprise?
Sometimes - this weekend, for example - this comes as a welcome revelation. Alex is wonderfully successful and I, too, am so grateful for the music and the opportunities God has given. Clearly this is way better than what I had in mind. But other times we find disappointment and even grief following the curve in the road. Fear, doubt, or any number of anxieties leave us wondering how we can ever again dare to move forward with any measure of confidence after being found so completely wrong. I have lived long enough to experience times like these, but not long enough to know any answers. So I read verses like "many are the plans of a man's heart, but the Lord orders his steps" and "'for I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper and not to harm you'" and "'for as high as the heavens are above the earth, so are my ways above your ways.'"
These passages tell me God's way is best and His plan is perfect. Sometimes we see that in our circumstances and we rejoice, and sometimes we don't see it and we do our best to accept and trust and rejoice anyway. And, we move forward holding onto Jesus a little more tightly, loosening our grip on our ideas and maybe even our lives.
Thankfully, this is not one of those times. This weekend we celebrate Alex and his achievement. I'll catch another glimpse of God's amazing design for our lives, and I'll say a prayer of thanksgiving for being wrong. So, Alex, I am so proud of you, not just because of what you've accomplished thus far, or all that you will surely accomplish in the years to come, but because you're just a really cool guy. I love you. Congratulations on your success. (...ok, I'll stop gushing in public now.)
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