Category Archives: 5 Songs I am Singing

Song is my love language.

Cover-Alls

My dad was a country boy in Misourri, growing up in the 1940s ,who had to wear cover-alls too school.  He hated it.  And remains a very snazzy dresser to this day.   This post is not about those little bibbed britches, actually.  But rather, song covers.

Song covers.

That term can make a lot of people cringe with horror like fingernails on a blackboard.  And usually, whenever some one “covers,” a song, or sings something that once “belonged” rightfully to another artist, I tend to think, “Why?  Why are you doing that?”  It was already an amazing song, done amazingly by some amazing artist I love {and am amazed by, it would seem}.

But honestly?  There are great covers out there and the best, I think, are done well because the bands re-recording a tune respects the song so much and loves it for what was originally done with it – that they are able to communicate it really well.  I actually want to BE a cover band, for my next job.  **big, goofy, smile**

I still really adore Mariah Carey’s version of the Jackson Five’s, “I’ll Be There.”   Just the other day, Blake (“Some Beach) Shelton released his cover of Kenny Loggin’s 1980s version of “Footloose,” and it is a respectful, countrified, get-up-and-dance version.  I like it.    The video is mostly fun, but a little too much dirty-dancing for me to post it here (this is a family blog, people), but the song is good.  Great cover.


“Close to You,” by the Carpenters is simply classic and part of the soundtrack of my very life,
almost too precious to communicate.  Great (Bacharach) tune that it is, it has been covered a gazillion-million times and though I usually, absolutely dismiss any attempts at the re-do, there are a few artists who have given me such an interesting rendition, that I have come to appreciate why anyone ever attempts it at all.  It is just a great song.  And the live Barbara Streisand and Burt-the-Bacharach-himself version in 1971 are an interesting watch.  And I must admit truly loving Mario Biondi’s raspy, deep, jazzy version.  It is well interpreted.  He knows why, ya know?  And he respects the song.

Boondocks.

Though I was city born and raised (if Des Moines can be considered a real “city”),  my heart that craves the “Boondocks,” which was a grand hit for Little Big Town a few years back.  Felt like listening to it the other day and found out that this band that feeds my country-boondocks-slightly-bluegrass periodic-craving has done a bunch of great covers.  They’ve done their original stuff with harmonies I love to get lost in, harmonies that harken back to the likes of the Starlight Vocal Band (“Afternoon Delight”) and so many family sing-a-longs in my youth. They are not hacks.  They’ve earned the right to cover songs they love.  And here is my favorite find!

I’d love to be introduced to more great covers, espcially of 1970s songs.  Anyone??

 

 

Happy Birthday, Rocky

How old are you now?

TWENTY-seven???  What?  How did this happen?

I seriously had to think about that.

O, Bo.  Your mama loves you like crazy.  I cannot remember a day since you have been born that I didn’t think I had the most wonderful-cool-cutie patootie-hilarious-intense-zany-fierce-cuddly-strong willed-good smelling-pretty boy-handsome-loud and lovable-wry-talented-accomplished boy in the world.  Since you got mobile, before you could even walk, you have been bouncing off walls, and hitting your head on the ceiling.  You are made for things wild and high and free and the best is yet to be, son-‘o-mine.  You’re still at the starting line with a vast, open-space kind of future ahead.  Being contained is a travesty towards your very soul, for that is not how the LORD knitted you together.  And I am loving watching Him coax you back into the holy wild.  Watch out, world!

So here is my birthday card for you.

I started doing these photo things this year as a way to think about each of you, really ponder, really put into words what I SEE in each of you.  And I pray about them.  And I ask God to give me deep insights and show me what He sees, too.  They come from simple mommy-love and they come from deep places of intercession and Holy-Spirit-insight.  So much better than a Hallmark, I am telling you.

So, I hope when you read this you will open up your heart to RECEIVE it, too, to understand that it is a gift of words.  But not just words – it is a gift of seeing you, understanding you, proclaiming over your life, and presenting who you are, from my perspective, to the world.  It isn’t everything about you (though even I could go on and on), but it is a part,  just as all my “birthday cards” for my loves have been this year.  It’s a part, seen by the mommy who birthed you and loves you more intensely than she ever dreamed possible.  From the depths of my heart to the feeble words I use to explain that, I hope you will accept this and know how very proud I am of you, you ornery little booger.

Images :: www.lilacphotography.com Words :: the mom

Yes, I used some Ellie-images again.  I couldn’t decide between the serious side of Rocky (intense, sincere, tough, rock-n-roll) and the silly side (harassing and teasing, aggravating and delighting), so I did both.  And I could have kept going.

Love ya, Bubba.  Happy Birthday

 

 

 

 

Deliver us from evil

The LORD’S Prayer.

Deliver

*to set free  *to release  *to save from  *to emancipate  *to loose  *to redeem-release-save  *unshackle   *unimprison  *acquit  *liberate  *to cry out h e l p….and be rescued

Evil

*sin  *immorality  *damnable  *vicious  *vile  *unpleasant  *offensive  *loathsome  *hateful  *harmful  *malicious  *destructive  *injury  *tragedy  *blow  *to inflict destruction

One scripture  translation says, “Deliver me from temptation to do evil.”

“When tempted, no one should say, ‘God is tempting me.’ For God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does He tempt anyone; but each one is tempted when, by his own evil desire, he is dragged away and enticed” (James 1:13-14).

So when I get to the part, Deliver us from evil, I am praying ::

O God, deliver me, help me.  Rescue me from my own evil desires – the passions and opinions and entitlements that make me strive for self, that feed my flesh.  Deliver me from offensiveness, from causing injury (both when I know I am and when I don’t even foresee what my words or actions might do to another heart).  Set me free from malicious thoughts and injurious stances; release me from hatefulness and viciousness in the name of “my rights ” or my  {superior religious} upbringing or any part of the shifting sand I too often build things on.  Unshackle me from my own self-imposed darkness, from fear and baseless insecurities, from placing burdensome expectations on others for my own gain.  Save me from me, from my endless pride, and the deep rooted bitterness; from covetousness and jealousy and fear of loss and from being so blessed I cannot empathize with others.  And for being ungrateful when You have blessed me beyond what I deserve.  Loosen me from my dependence on my gifts or talents that make me go halfway around the world before I ever realize I am absolutely lost without You.  Help me, save me.  Save me from my own evil desires, from being dragged away by them.  Interrupt sin in my life.  Towards me, or by me.  Save me.  Deliver me from evil…

 

I Want You for all Time

I so will go see him on tour.  With his kids and their family band.

 

I have a lot of Glen on my iTunes.  He has sung some of the greatest songs of all time.  The kind where the melody and the words flow just right – and hit you straight in the heart.  Yeah those.  Like, “By the Time I Get to Phoenix,” and “Country Boy (You’ve got your Feet in LA),”  “Carolina in My Mind.”  He sang about a lot of places on the map.  “Try a Little Kindness.”  There were the days of “Southern Nights” and “Rhinestone Cowboy.”  And I like his versions of “Let it Be Me,” and “Little Green Apples.”  Oh, oh, oh – “Honey, Come Back” !!!

Yeah, I like Glen.

Oh, and then there is “Where’s the Playground, Susie?” sniff, sniff

BLT for Breakfast?

Youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu betcha!

 

Except there was neither B nor L involved.  Just T.  Oh, the T.  LOOOOVE the T!

It was tomato on potato bread, or to-mah-to on po-tah-to, whichever you prefer.  With real mayo and sea salt.  And the bread was toasted, naturally.

 

And all I really wanted to tell you was that you should try growing your own tomatoes.  You should, really.  Try.  And pick them just before you think they look red-red and bring them inside to become better acquainted for a day, maybe two.  And don’t refrigerate – let them get sweeter and juicier and riper.  You can’t hurry love.

 

Then, you’ll just know.  You’ll know.

 

And all those transparent, disgusting, greenish-slices of rubbery-engineered-spheres those {fake-food purveyors} have slapped on your part-time-lover-fast-food burgers will fade from view.

 

Me and T :: Our love is here to stay.

DINNER :: Carbonara Rigati with snow peas and plum tomatoes (bacon, mmmm); garlic-green-beans; cucumber and red onion-toss; bruschetta (fresh tomatoes from my garden) on extra-virgin-olive-oil-drizzled and toasted baguette and panko-crusted zuchinni, fried in Roasted Garlic Grapeseed Oil

He Speaks.

FOUND IN DRAFTS FOLDER FROM NOVEMBER 2009

If God spoke contemporaneously during “Bible times,”

Will He not speak contemporaneously to us now?

I have mentioned my interest in slam poetry before.  I am not the demographic for it, an unusual fan, certainly.  Yet I am impressed, moved, by the talent in the thought-provoking stringing-together-of-words by these young artist/performers.   There is a bold-word Paul-like quality, just speaking straight from and to the guts.

Recently Tredessa and I have been talking about art and literature and music and how we find glimpses of the one true God popping up even where people would be shocked to find Him.  Like He did that day at the well.

This particular YouTube example is pretty straightforward-from-the-Christian-biblical viewpoint.

And here is Levi-he-Poet at Heaven Fest.

But I have found Him in songs, in movies, in books that aren’t Christian bookstore fare.  I have heard Him in stories and wordless music, too.

Interpret.

God is still writing on the walls of this wicked and secular generation.  I believe it.  And we are the Daniels interpreting the signs and symbols that point the way out of darkness and into light.  When we see Jesus in a movie, find Him in a deep spiritual meaning in some story or His grace depicted by fictional characters, maybe even when we hear a song by a known “sinner” that touches something deep inside – are we too closed off to believe that God is able and IS speaking to the world today through every available means?  Do we think the only chance people have to hear from the God of the Universe is in our church building-boxes on Sunday morning or via Christian TV?

Hey, God spoke through an ass (Numbers 22).  I think He can use the arts.  Maybe even you and me.

C.S. Lewis says so much in so few words.

If only I could learn to do the same…

“A man can no more diminish God’s glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word, ‘darkness’ on the walls of his cell.”

“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”

He speaks.

He speaks to everyone, to every human being on the face of the earth, by both general and specific revelation.

Creation testifies about the Creator.  The heavens declare His glory.  And whether we choose to igore them or not, our very consciences are God speaking into our awarenesses, His voice direct to something deep inside.  He speaks in the church and to the church.  He speaks through His Word.  He speaks through the Holy Spirit and through Godly people who bear His image.  By their example and words and prayer, we hear Him and are marked for life.  And sometimes, He speaks to me in a still, small voice, so direct the wind is nearly knocked from my lungs.  It even happened at a movie once.

He speaks.

Are we listening?

Summer Songs

A pretty random playlist.

They are all connected by being songs I thoroughly enjoy listening to as I drive around on a summer afternoon or evening.  A little jazz, a little country, a little bubblegum pop (The Patridge Family, big smile!) and mostly oldies.  Mostly.

Lovin’ summer, as always.  High today?  87-sweet-degrees.  Sunny and maybe a late afternoon thundershower.  Drink up, garden!

 


Get a playlist!

 

Moslander Reunion 2011 :: For the Mamala

Arriving in Chicago on a Friday night. We get real Chicago-style pizza near Midway Airport where planes fly just above our heads.  Near the south shore in Hobart there is a wedding rehearsal with the other half of the family.  We will all gather for a celebration of a new marriage on Saturday.

BBQs at Dan and Dawn’s, corn-holing competitions, waffle-ball in the backyard.  Even the matriarch and patriarch got into the games!  There was the beach at Lake Michigan and driving the old neighborhood.  Remember 4995 Roosevelt Place and all the baseball dings in the side of the garage from the 3 Moslander boys?  Oh, they are still there.  Our giant spruce is nearly dead now, but there is the house, the one we all finally lived in together before growing up and moving away began.  Schools and businesses and streets we travelled.  A Vienna Red Hot at The Village Shopping Center.  I could still smell J C Penney’s even though it hasn’t been there now for almost 20 years.  My first real-life job was there.

Once green-grass, established neighborhoods with distinct ethnic identities, houses where people had lived for over 40 years in a thriving steel-mill industry and could be counted upon , like clockwork to be edging their perfect lawns at exactly 6:15 pm every Wednesday evening now have the signs of transience at best.  Bars on inhabited house windows, boarded up openings on empty, beautiful brick homes on hills.  You can buy a million-dollar Denver-type home there for $15,000, cash.  So says the hand-written cardboard sign.  The city waits to be revived.

But we remember our life and  times.

And the vivid colors come flooding back and our hearts are warm in the remembrance.  These were good times and good places.  This is where we finished growing up and where our parents had to let us go.  There are altars in every direction, signs that point to God’s faithfulness in our lives.

Jordan and Alise start their life as husband and wife.  We dance and eat and make merry.  We see old friends and catch up on 30 or so years.

Joe and Robin and their family couldn’t come this year.  We are remembering them always, bringing them up constantly, missing their presence…

The boys wrestle and play pool and work out to get pumped up. I give my mom a perm, which, though a bit kinky to begin with, of course, turns out just fine.  I get lots of time with Averi & Amelie Belle and they are truly the “belles of the ball!”

Southlake Worship Center – home church

We got to attend church at Southlake on Sunday.  So sweet.  More on that later.  But Pastor Sam Abbott and congregation welcomed us fully.  Rocky and Tara led worship, with a small acoustic, all-family band.  It was lovely.

Back to Chicago

On Tuesday there is a trip into the city: Navy Pier at Chicago.  Then an authentic Puerto Rican meal to. die. for. at Tami and Gerron’s church, provided by some ladies of the congregation.  Sitting on the front stoop at the church, we get a taste of a busy Chicago neighborhood.  The sounds, the smells, the accents – colorful and unique.  Tami and Gerron are perfect there.

Before we part we have our standard Family-Mass, a time of worship and fellowship around Him whose mark on our lives keeps us one, Jesus Christ.  It is informal, it is easy.  I wish it really could be captured in a way everyone could experience it.  Somehow, we just blend.  We just are :: The Moslanders.  The descendants of Ross and Norma Moslander, 4 generations of us, declaring God’s faithfulness from one generation to another.

In all my dad pastored in Des Moines, the Davenport, then a short time in Cedar Rapids, and a short time in Robert, Louisiana before we got to Gary, Indiana.   I kinda call it home and Dan and Dawn are still there.  And with all of us there, it felt like home.  But home really is where my mom and dad are.

These are just a few of the moments, especially dedicated to my mom.

HOME is wherever I’m with you.

 

Just a little bit longer…

6:09 am

The sun emerges on the eastern horizon.  Sun up.  Official.

I should be up with the sun.  But there is that delicious moment if you wait for it, when it glows golden and bright, filtered through fluttering leaves on a perfect summer morning and the curtains moving slightly against the open window.

What is this I hear in my head?

Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons?   Why don’t you staaaaaaaaaaay ~ just a little bit longer…

6:37

Wait for it.  Wait for it – perfection: bright, light, golden, yellow-sun, top-of-the-morning-to-you fresh, brand new, warm summer morning.  Light begins dancing across the room to the rhythm of the morning song.  A stretch.  Oh my.  That was so worth the wait.