Late last week, the nice lady who lives two doors down from me knocked and asked if I would do her a favor. She was going to Dallas for her granddaughter's high school graduation over the weekend and she was expecting a package from AMAZON during that time frame. Typically, the deliveries are left outside our doors as we live in an indoor hallway and she wondered if I would pick it up, holding it until her return. I was more than happy to oblige- she would do the same for me. There was a slight problem, though. When I opened the door when she came by, my apartment was a wreck, at least the part visible from the doorway. So, I determined I would straighten up so as to not risk embarrassment a second time!
I started at my desk which is adjacent to the door. During the quarantine, I've let stuff pile up on it so I had some work. I even pulled out the stuff from the middle drawer.... and that's when I found it. 'It' was a letter from a former girlfriend and I'm not sure how those old pieces of lined paper ended up tucked away. I had a couple of minutes so I sat down and read what she wrote. The first thing I noticed is that she started with Ephesians 3:20-21, words I now begin each day with. I'm not sure I had a clue about them when I read the letter the first time. The rest of it was newsy and upbeat and hopeful which was exactly who she was. But, as you probably realize, it didn't work out. I liked her, my folks really liked her, but I wasn't very smart back then. The blue ink was just another reminder.
Last night, I found myself watching clips of the Bob Dylan film No Direction Home. Up popped a short documentary of Joan Baez and her relationship with Dylan and it was fascinating. Baez was an established star on the music scene who gave him exposure and credibility and his career, backed by the songs he wrote which became part of the soundtrack of that generation, exploded. They had an intense relationship which, of course, didn't last and both married others. In 1975, ten years after their love affair, Baez was writing a song one day and you know who calls. That song, which had nothing to do with Dylan, became totally about Dylan and what they had. Her finished product, Diamonds And Rust, is a classic which she at first told Dylan was about her husband to whom she was divorced. It's pretty obvious it was an emotional experience for her. My favorite line of the song:
We both know what memories can bring
They bring diamonds and rust
There was a lot more time elapsed since I went to the mail box and found that letter than there was with Bob and Joanie, as he called her, and their phone conversation. (He had written a song and wanted to read it to her.) Our time together was pretty short but as often happens, involved some painful moments. Such is youth.
There are Bible couples whose marital bliss seemed doomed from the start because of the family issues preceding the marriage; Jacob and Leah and David and Michal come to mind. There were also some amazing couples, we can surmise; Elizabeth and Zechariah or Priscilla and Aquila, and maybe throwing Adam and Eve into the mix. Every relationship doesn't work out. I ask my juniors how many still like their fifth grade crush; extremely few takers and lots of funny expressions in reply. I imagine my folks prayed about their middle son and the young lady mentioned above. It didn't work out, probably to their disappointment, but we both survived. There were no songs or documentaries attached to our parting. But we went our separate ways as very close friends and more importantly, as sister and brother in Christ. That's a blessed relationship in itself.
To listen to Joan Baez sing Diamonds And Rust with some pretty cool pictures, click or copy/paste link below:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2MSwBM_CbyY
To watch the short documentary with Joan and Bob, click or copy/paste the link below:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Olh-XGQkp3g&t=318s
* There's a few bad words- letting you know!
Applicable quote of the day:
“He was rarely tender, and seldom reached out to anticipate another’s needs, though occasionally he would exhibit a sudden concern for another outlaw, hitchhiker, or bum, and go out of his way to see them looked after. He was touching and infinitely fragile. His indescribably white hands moved constantly: putting a cigarette almost to his mouth, then tugging relentlessly at a tuft of hair at his neck, inadvertently dumping the cigarette ashes in dusty cavalcades down his jacket.”
― And A Voice to Sing With: A Memoir
God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1
E-mail me at shawley@westburychristian.org
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