Battle Hymn of the Republic- But not like you probably think.

Battle Hymn of the Republic, Arr. Wilhousky, Sung by the MoTab

        No everyone- this is NOT a patriotic post. I love our country, am grateful for our liberties, the opportunities it affords us etc. etc- but that post will have to come around in 349 days. This is about devotion to a different source.
        I have done this with two separate, but very different choirs. The first was under American Festival up in Logan with Craig Jessop conducting- very cool experience. About 3-400 people in that choir, and it was the end of our patriotic concert- definitely power. Craig Jessop- despite being a world renowned conductor, and a fabulous human being- is a patriot. He got his start in the Air Force band folks! We could tell how much the song meant to him, and it bled over to our interpretation of it. The second time was a few years later in an auditioned church choir. Latter Day Voices WAS doing a patriotic concert- but the focus was much more on the religious aspect of it.(kinda what I am going to focus on today- if it's not your thing, feel free to stop here) A different experience for sure- more intimate- I felt connected to each and every member of the choir and more to the conductor because of our personal relationship. Kinda the difference between being a member of an army versus a .....little army? A platoon? A corp? I just love how militant the drums and the trumpet sound at the beginning. As a side hobby, I've always been kind of fascinated by military history. Where I grew up in Maryland has a ton of Civil War battle sites near by, and my mom got me into historical fiction...novels doesn't do them justice....there were 7 books, about 500 pages each....epics I suppose...about the revolutionary war. Which brings us to today's very, very extended and someone stretched, gospel to music to real life analogy time with Sarah.
       Thinking back on previous wars during sacrament meeting today(which, confession, is where I usually write these blogs) I realized something: the colonials won because we used guerrilla warfare- the north happened to win relatively soon after we let African American's join the army- we got our butts handed to us in Vietnam because again- the guerrilla warfare thing...and the land mine thing....and the child soldier thing...but analyzing all of those together we find out- the side that is willing to use the unconventional soldier usually wins. But what is an unconventional soldier?
      Easier to define, and better fitting to the analogy right now is the conventional soldier. So, a story. Once upon a summer, I worked at a boyscout camp. We showed up for staff week (a poorly disguised labor camp of a week with ditch digging, log hauling etc) with our grubbiest clothes on- all except for one teen aged staff boy. He arrived with a spotless uniform, with a sash that was decked out in an almost ridiculous amount of boyscout merit badges. Nicknames were quickly made and thrown around that week. I was Mom- we had Sunshine, Grumpy, Sugar Face, Lil' Jon. But this kid was the only one to pick out his own nickname- he wouldn't answer to anything but Patches. It was obvious this young man thought of himself as "The Super Scout". But as the summer wore on, his lack of obedience, leadership, and any social skills at all, made it obvious that the patches on their own didn't add up to much.
     Now, it might seem like I am ragging on this kid- but I TOTALLY get him. "What?" cries the inner Sarah, "An accomplishment that can be recognized and admired by everyone?! Sign me up!!" "An opportunity to display an experience or accomplishment or piece of knowledge I have that most people don't!?! Dibs."I get the driving need for recognizable, measurable accomplishments. Many of the people I admire most in my life have these- multiple degrees. A tiny waist and the perfect wardrobe to boot. The dream job, at a ridiculously young age. Patch, patch, patch, and the same as at camp worthless without the values that should go behind them. Now! I am not saying that all conventional soldiers are bad. I live in Utah y'all......I could tell you a gosh darn thing or two about a conventional soldier( I was an EFY counselor for crying out loud). The Relief Society president who seems to always be happy. The home teacher who comes on the first of the month. Bishops, Institute teachers- but the titles aren't what makes them awesome. I've had many bad teachers, bishops, presidents and home teachers. But when they have the love to back it up- that makes them 'the perfect soldier'.
    Now back to that revolutionary war analogy. During the 1770s- there was a very established (very European) fighting method. You recognized both sides by their uniforms, the officers by their extra regalia, and when it was time to fight each other, you found a nice open field, made nice lines, and shot each other. When the dust cleared, the ones still alive would go to the back of the line to reload and do it all again...kind of like an assembly line of death. But the Indians had taught us camouflage- fire, duck and run, always under cover of forrest or brush. The British even provided us with neat targets, with there uniforms cross straps, directly over a kill spot on their chests. In the revolutionary war we were outmanned, outgunned, outclassed, out-resourced....but we won because there was a new method of fighting. The unconventional soldiers won the day.
      Now to unravel the analogy- every time I hear songs like this one, or Onward Christian Soldiers or See the Mighty Priesthood Gathered or We are all enlisted- I love thinking of the army of God. I get chills thinking of millions of people, across generations and even just in our time- rallying in complete devotion to our cause- that right will prevail. God certainly needs his generals, his ranks and ranks of uniformed, unified soldiers- his bishops, his EFY counselors, but that CAN NOT BE ALL HE HAS!!!    Satan's host are as varied as the lies he tells them to get them to join his cause. A fight against that with nothing but Molly Mormons and Peter Priesthoods would fare no better than the British did against their lot of colonial rabble. We need people with different backgrounds, maybe a habit or two they are still trying to break. Think Al Fox, the "Tattooed Mormon". Think Josh Weed, who came out on his blog, saying he was LDS, happily married to a beautiful wife....and gay. The enemy is getting sneaky- we need these people. The girl who can't take the sacrament, but comes every week anyway. The man who is deep in the thralls of a pornography addiction, but finds the humility to stick with what he knows is true, and the courage to go to a 12 step addiction meeting. Think of the lone remaining member in a family who has fallen away- who to appease his mother says he's going to soccer on Sundays, while sneaking his church clothes in his bag to catch the last little bit of Sunday school and go to sacrament meeting when he can (I've met all these people. They are amazing.) These are God's guerrilla warriors- and they are so important!! Don't try to force them into uniform when they aren't ready- these are peoples who were prisoners of war in the enemy camp, maybe some of them even fought willingly- but didn't Alma the younger? We NEED them!
     Please understand me. I am not encouraging a lack of devotion- we can afford no Benedict Arnolds. I am not excusing compliance, for failure to do our best would drive us to defeat as sure as out and out surrender. But these people ARE DOING THEIR BEST!!! This is the face we should present to converts!! You don't need to be perfect right now- we appreciate everyone. We BELIEVE in improvement, variety, CONVERSION! These are the people we need right now.

Now I know this is one of the longest blogs I've written, but I've felt for a while it was needed.  Stay with me a little longer- I want to tell another story, this one- actually completely to music. Click on the link on the top, and 'picture this, if you will.'

(The drum/ trumpet intro)
                    You step into the center of town- people are crowding       
        around a poster- draft orders. Your blood runs cold.
        You knew this day was coming- but you had always thought 
        you'd be older....more prepared. Now it is, you guess.
(Mine eyes have seen....)
                  Decisions are made. Of course you go. All around town, 
       bags are packed, families left with wishes of safe return.
       A scared hope for a good outcome of the war is mixed with 
        anxiety and fear, as everyone moves out. 
(I have seen him in the watch fires)
                People are sorted into their separate camps. Training 
      begins! As inadequate as you feel, you are grateful for 
      your comrades in arms- a certain, esprit de corp is felt. 
       Together, you are being trained to handle the threat; you 
      are becoming soldiers. (In my head, this looks like various      
      scenes from Glory, and different firesides/ Sunday schools  
      I've been to)
(He has Sounded forth the trumpet) 
               At last, time for the first battle! You feel as ready as 
      you'll ever be. There is a certain buzz of excitement as 
      your group falls into ranks- you knew that their were other 
      camps, other groups training....but this many? This 
      organized? How can you loose? The captain takes the stand 
      to make his speech before it all begins.
(In the Beauty)
              An eerie silence now- we remember the odds that are stacked    
      against us- and all of this seems impossible, and maybe 
      a bit ridiculous. The commander of the entire army leads
     you in quiet prayer, reminds you the stakes of what you are 
     fighting for.....and sounds the charge....
(Let us live to make men free!)
             Our training takes over...march. Take care of your brothers.
     We fight in perfect formation, uniformed and unified. But 
     as we march slowly, ducking and weaving through the ranks, 
     the guerrilla warriors RUN. Their training has been  
     different. Some go out to try to capture and convert enemy       
     soldiers and captains. Some to undermine his propaganda. But 
     they all run, fearlessly to do their duty to the cause. 
(Glory glory hallelujah!) 
     Picture a slow motion, time lapse battle scene. Clashes are 
     ferocious, but you are well trained. Like the end of every
     great war movie ever, fighting fades to text over the 
     screen, explaining how the battle was valiantly fought and 
     bravely won.
(Amen)
     Victorious, we rally back around our commander, who reminds 
     us the battle is won, but the war rages on.....are we ready  
     for the next day? He is answered with a mighty, vaguely 
     Spartan sounding, roar of victory and approval.  
       

"There Will Be Rest"

There Will Be Rest- Frank Tichelli

 About a year and a half ago, I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. People ask me all the time what that means. And whether it has medication. It doesn't- and usually I tell them to look it up. But overall- it means that the person tends to see things in stark black and white and has issues connecting to people, leading to very tumultuous relationships. They tend to have some kind of self harming behavior. When I say oversensitive......I've had many people describe this/me differently. Some people just say I come off as over dramatic- no...it does actually feel like my world is falling apart a lot of the time. I had a roommate say she reminded me of a fairy- so small I could only feel one emotion at a time, but I felt it really big!! I had a friend who knew enough about me and how I struggled with different things, and he would play real or not real with me (If the reference is lost on you.....move out from under your rock and read the hunger games). Usually the way I perceive things isn't quite true.....and is rather off in fact. No. That look doesn't mean that person hates you. That phrase does not mean your teacher has given up on you and thinks you will never succeed. No. One wrong note does not mean your musical career is over. And no. Practicing til midnight and stressing yourself into ulcer territory will help neither you nor the choir you direct. Just.....lots of extremes. Think of the times you think of extreme emotions- (More parable time!!)

• You wake up to a beautiful morning. Stretching and feeling at peace with the world, you roll over to look at your alarm clock....which tells you, you should have been at work an hour ago.
• You indulge in gossip about a mutually disliked person with your friend over text, only to look down and realize you sent said text to said disliked person!!
• You forget your words during a performance or work presentation.
• The feeling of being laughed at.
• Being forced to work closely with someone you know doesn't think very highly of you.
• Your significant other of a relationship you've invested in, and made plans for sits you down to tell you how wonderful you are....and how they don't deserve you and so are going to end this before any one gets hurt, it's not you it's them!!!!...etc. etc. etc.
•  You get an email about a lost scholarship, job, or a dismissal from a program.
• You drop (or loose) something expensive) 
• You get a call saying someone you love is in the hospital  

Granted I am focusing on negative examples- you've never seen happy til you've seen me surrounded by friends, comfortable and at a party. You've never seen proud til you see me after a performance I'm happy with (they're few and far between) or with a group of my EFY girls, who I seem to be proud of no matter what. You've never seen in love til you've seen me in the first few weeks of a new relationship (or with Jon when we are particularly, disgustingly in love...it happens.) But in the past few months I've had quite a few of the negatives happen to me. And what takes MOST people to emotional extremes, takes me to....very very dark places I don't like talking about. I would bundle all of these experiences into a feeling called angs-iety. (Get it? Angst and Anxiety? Ba-dum-ch!) If your a color person, I see these as a....dirty, muddy greyish, brownish black. Like oil. It just sticks to you. As a feeling- its when your stomach drops, and then tries to tie itself in knots. Ok! More parables. 

Analogy/Parable 1

         Did you ever play the floor is llava as a kid? You jump from piece of furniture to piece of furniture, (probably making your mother feel a bit of angs-iety for your safety and the safety of her decor) because suddenly the floor, your foundation is no longer safe. Your options are limited, and some evil sibling has moved all the furniture to the other side of the room- leaving you stranded. You look down at your 'island'....and think "Whelp. I'm gonna have to get comfortable here." That's what it is like to be drowning in angs-iety....you really see no way out.

Analogy/Parable 2

     Angs-iety is to my heart, what the sun is to a grape. There is almost a physical sensation of tension and....wrinkling. And then you have a raisin. No way to get back what you once had.

How do you make a raisin back into a grape? In real life....I'm pretty sure you can't. In analogy land- choir music. I have songs where, again there is almost a physical sensation of relaxation- massaging away the wrinkles and stress and tension of every day angs-iety....and even not so every day angs-iety. Think Dirait On. How Can I Keep from Singing. Vinea Mea, Barber's Agnus Dei, Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring, and the song I have a link to at the top of the page. I had a very close friend call me this week and tell me about.....angs-iety causing situations that no one should have to deal with it.....especially someone like....my friend. I anguished over it. I wanted to make them the promise that this song makes me....that there will be rest....everything will be ok. I wanted them to feel this sensation of *rub rub rub rub* ping! And the raisin is a grape again!! Like nothing ever happened! 

Another sensation that I want to describe that applies both to the song and the situation I would call..... defiance. Power. Strength. Capability.

• You get done with a really hard workout, and feel on top of the world
• You get an A in the class that you thought would be the death of you.
• That teacher/authority figure who thought you would never amount to much is forced to admit your progress.
• In an argument, in which you know you are defending the cause of right, you are blessed with what words to say to verbally smite your opponent into admitting your correctness.
• Every time you hear the Pokemon theme song(...maybe that one is just me)

Whenever I feel this, I picture myself as Wolverine, standing in the corner of the ring, and my claws just burst out. In songs, this would be Gaudete,  Didn't My Lord Deliver Daniel, Salmo 150, and O Fortuna. You get whispers of this in "There Will Be Rest", at the part where the author swears that "he will make this world of his devising, out of a dream." Another feeling I wish I some how could have communicated to my friend. You feel down and out right now- like a raisin- like you are abandoned on your chair of an island in the middle of a sea of lava, angs-iety. But there will come a moment, after you have been comforted, after the rub rub rub sensation, where you will feel powerful again. Where you will make your world of your devising, rather than being victim to circumstances and the choices of others. And you will put on your lava-resistant full body swim suit and go find and enact retribution on that stupid sibling who moved the furniture. 

Anyway- just some ramblings. More for me than for any one else. But if your reading this tell me- what makes you feel anxious, or powerful? What pushes you to your extremes?