Queen Kelley

We have yet to celebrate Thanksgiving officially, but already I feel the Christmas spirit. It’s appropriate, I think, even now before we consume the turkey and dressing. To me, Thanksgiving is all wrapped up in Christmas and vice versa. They complement each other. Anyway, I am starting the season with a bang—taking my girls for repeated viewings of Christmas trees at the local Wal-Mart and Lowe’s, letting them push the buttons on the ridiculous animated toys as many times as they wish, and promising to add their latest toy request to the mythical “Christmas list.” (I know. I’m Supermom. Admit it: you’re jealous.)

It’s not only about them, though. I have found my favorite flavor of the holidays, and it’s delivered by Chic-fil-A. The peppermint chocolate chip milkshake is DIVINE. First, it’s pretty. Red-pink and thick, with flecks of dark chocolate and a creamy whipped topping spiral. Second, it’s seasonal. I’m not a regular consumer of peppermint (unless you count my mouthwash), and it never fails to remind me of Christmas. Third, and most important, it’s simply delectable. You take a sip, and it cools your entire throat all the way down to your stomach, where it settles comfortably. It’s not only cold; it’s minty fresh. Then there’s the added bonus of the chocolate bits, which mingle well with the mint. If you have any inclination toward peppermint, I’d recommend this milkshake. It’s like drinking a Peppermint Patty, only sweeter.

I have also found my favorite sounds of the season, and they come from the voices of the gorgeous Harry Connick, Jr., and the equally adorable Kristin Chenoweth. Harry’s What a Night! finds me jumping off the couch to dance around the room with my girls. As always, he combines traditional carols with upbeat secular songs and a few original compositions, and it’s ALL fabulous. This is his third Christmas album, and it’s another unique contribution to the group. Kristin’s A Lovely Way to Spend Christmas is exactly that. As I’m not familiar with most television shows these days, I don’t know Kristin from The West Wing or Pushing Daisies. No, I first heard her voice on the soundtrack for Wicked the musical, where she sang the part of Glinda the Good. Her vocal stamina is evident on every song she sings for Wicked, ranging from a nasally twang to high opera. On the Christmas album, her singing is sweet as sugar, smooth and warm and inviting. Both Harry’s and Kristen’s holiday recordings have me seeing visions of sugarplums and twinkling tree lights, though neither are in my home just yet. (What are sugarplums, anyway?)

So here you have it: my Christmas kickoff. Go get yourself a peppermint chocolate chip milkshake from Chic-fil-A (it’s never too cold for ice cream), wrap yourself in a blanket, and listen to Harry and Kristin while you drink a a little Christmas. I guarantee it’ll put you in the spirit.

Reluctantly returning to the real world after a fabulous weekend, I think I know the moral of the story: “Never underestimate the importance of a trip—even a short one—alone with your spouse.” The King and I left the girls at their GG and Pawpaw’s home in Jefferson Friday afternoon. Looking at each other and breathing a sigh of relief as we played OUR music, we headed to the Mall of Georgia. We spent several hours there scrounging up a few Christmas gifts and eating too much at Ruby Tuesday. Afterward, we relaxed in our room at Fairfield Inn—that is, until we decided to head back out for a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. We consumed more than 1,000 calories and 64 fat grams between us, then breathed more sighs of relief as we enjoyed quiet reading and TV time.

Saturday morning was the best, though. No little feet tiptoed into our room; no pointy finger tapped our shoulders; no small voice expressed its readiness for breakfast. No. We awoke at 6:00, looked around, then relaxed into sleep again. Around 8:00, we decided to crawl out of bed and check out the continental meal offered downstairs. My husband even made me a waffle! Then we headed back to our room and spent the next couple of hours in unhurried, completely restful bliss.

Finally, it was time to get dolled up for our trip into Atlanta. After managing a couple of awkward timed photos outside the hotel, we were off to find cheap parking near the fabulous Fox Theatre ($10!). We walked down to the Old Spaghetti Factory, where we enjoyed various pasta offerings and I sipped a blackberry Italian soda, all while surrounded by enormous chandeliers and a peaceful atmosphere. As the clock ticked toward 1:00, we finished our meal too quickly by habit, then strolled back up the street, where we were surprised to see the hordes of people already gathered at the theater in anticipation of the afternoon’s show.

We met our friends and then settled down for three hours or so of slack-jawed amazement as incredibly talented performers told us the little-known back story of the Wicked Witch of the West. The show was absolutely astounding—everything people had told me and more. The vocal stamina required of most characters bewildered me. How do they do it? Wicked the musical is a beautiful story of friendship, love lost and won, the trouble with power, the plight of the oppressed, and the ability of an individual to effect change, accompanied by a moving score and breathtaking sets. Sprinkled throughout the show are hilarious tidbits that explain pieces of Frank Baum’s original tale. For any who love the theater, and for those who, like my husband, could live without it, I can almost guarantee that you’ll be entertained and amazed.

The beauty of our night away was matched only by our reunion with the girls Saturday evening. Full of excitement after more than 27 hours of one-on-one attention from GG and Pawpaw, they still gave us the best hugs ever. The King and I are grateful to his parents for the getaway we so desperately needed. Hopefully, we’ll aim to get away more often in the future.

Steven Curtis Chapman is gifted with the ability to step into someone else’s shoes and see life through that person’s perspective. Many of us can do this, but few of us do it often enough or express it with as much grace as Steven does. Of course, in the past several months, the shoes of difficulty have belonged to Steven and his family, as they’ve mourned the passing of their young daughter. But as I listen through this incredible musician’s latest album, This Moment, which was released in 2007, I find treasure after treasure.

Recently, on a rare car ride alone, I heard Steven sing “One Heartbeat at a Time.” Spoken to moms and female caregivers, its lyrics resonated deeply with me. This job, this everyday, 24-hours-a-day job, of rearing my precious princesses is trying, to say the least. I’m frequently exhausted, sleepless, harried, guilt-ridden, overworked, stressed, bothered, and worried. Thanks to an amazingly supportive husband, great friends, and loving parents and siblings, I’m able to walk through these days with a sense of their significance. And, most of the time, I’m able to couple the negative aspects with the positive—I’m frequently in awe, breathtakingly in love with my girls, fascinated by their outlook on the world, inspired, amused, proud, honored to be their mother, free-spirited, and ultimately at peace. (Queen Mother, if you’re reading this, I hope you were able to feel some of those positive aspects when we were small. I may not be changing the world right now as an adult, but at least I’m influencing my tiny corner of it!)

Steven’s words that night were another reminder of the importance of being a parent, even on the toughest of days. I pray that I will remember, through every fleeting moment, that I’m actually “changing the world…one little heartbeat at a time.” It sounds ridiculous, but when you think about it, it’s true. And it’s a high calling indeed.

One Heartbeat at a Time

Lyrics by Steven Curtis Chapman copyright 2007, Sparrow Song/Peach Hill Songs

You’re up all night with a screaming baby
You run all day at the speed of life
And every day you feel a little bit less
Like the beautiful woman you are

So you fall in bed when you run out of hours
And you wonder if anything worth doing got done
Well maybe you just don’t know
Or maybe you’ve forgotten

That you, you are changing the world
One little heartbeat at a time
Making history with every touch and every smile
Oh you, you may not see it now
But I believe that time will tell
How you, you are changing the world
One little heartbeat at a time

With every “I know you can do it”
And every tear that you kiss away
So many little things that seem to go unnoticed
They’re just like the drops of rain
Over time, they become a river

You’re beautiful, so beautiful
How you’re changing the world…

I just finished watching Larry King Live, a show I never usually watch on a station I didn’t even realize we got through basic cable. I’m sure that, being such a long-running show masterminded by a well-known interviewer, it frequently offers intriguing topics and features intriguing people. Even so, it’s simply not on my “to-watch” list (which, admittedly, is quite small these days).

Tonight, though, Steven Curtis Chapman, his wife Mary Beth, and their three biological children, Emily, Caleb, and Will Franklin, appeared on the show and endured a Larry King-style interview about the death of their daughter and sister Maria Sue. Translation: Larry asked each of them questions no one should ever have to answer about subjects no decent person ever approaches.

And you know what? The incredible, take-your-breath-away pain the Chapman family still feels was written all over their faces. And, paradoxically, so was their unwavering hope in this being we call God, the one who allows evil and suffering and tragedy for who knows why. Some of them admitted their anger, doubts, and questions toward God. All of them affirmed their belief that little Maria is with Jesus right now. They each exhibited great trust that they will pull through these worst of days, but they acknowledged that their loss is one that will walk with them for a lifetime.

I watched these same five people on Good Morning America yesterday morning. Robin Roberts, their interviewer for that segment, was infinitely more caring and sensitive than Mr. King. However, as many viewers pointed out on Jim Houser’s blog, it was obvious that SCC and MB’s words had been edited to steer clear of the words “God” and “Jesus” in favor of “faith.” It worked for me, as I’m sure it did for thousands who watched the interview. Tonight, though, there was no censoring of live TV. Tonight it was obvious where the Chapman family places their faith. Ironic, isn’t it, that the Truth for this family would be proclaimed so boldly in response to the pointed questions of a man hardened by years of interviews.

This family, in the depths of the greatest grief I can personally imagine, managed to minister to me. They, like others whose journeys I’ve followed, have shown once again that it is possible to survive even the most heartbreaking losses with HOPE.

I’ll close with the new verse Steven added to his already touching song “Yours,” from his new album Live in this Moment:

I’ve walked the valley of death’s shadow
So deep and dark that I could barely breathe
I’ve had to let go of more than I could bear
And questioned everything that I believe
But still even here 
in this great darkness
A comfort and hope come breaking through
As I can say in life or death
God we belong to you.

I resolve not to continue to lurk in the depths of despair in my posts, but I’d be lying if I said Maria’s death hasn’t been on my mind. There simply cannot be greater pain than that caused by the loss of a child. I would never minimize the deep sorrow felt by those grieving any lost loved one, but there’s something unique about the death of a child. It goes completely against our natural expectations of the order of things. We’re born, we grow up, we marry, and we either have children or we love someone else’s children. We take pride in watching them grow up, achieve, possibly marry and have their own children. Eventually, we die. Then, much later, they die. This is the cycle of life we trust and expect. When something happens to rip us from this perfect, right pattern, it shatters our spirits.

As I think of the Chapmans’ five-year-old Maria, who died suddenly in a tragic accident, I think also of the Wilkins’s four-year-old Catie, who died of cancer complications after a battle with disease that lasted more than three years. Whether sudden and completely shocking or drawn out and perhaps inevitable, death has a way of upending our lives–and even more so when it takes a child.

My human tendency to ask why is never greater than when I hear stories like these. It’s difficult, to say the least, to comprehend why a God I’ve come to know as loving and compassionate does not always (or even frequently) intervene in the way we so desperately want. Does that make God nonexistent? I don’t think so. Otherwise, I wouldn’t feel so hurt and angry with Him. And I wouldn’t feel, deep within, that mystical “peace that passes understanding” (Phil 4:7). It sounds dismissive, like saying such words smoothes it all out and makes everything better. As a struggling, doubting, often unbelieving “Christian,” I’m here to tell you it doesn’t. And maybe if I didn’t question so much, my intense pain over this issue would eventually dissolve. But I don’t think so. 

God created us to feel deeply, to love fully, and to give our all to the people around us. When we do that, we are bound to hurt with grief beyond words. However, we are also bound to experience joy beyond measure, laughter without restriction, and hope above explanation. In such a time as this, when my heart is heavy and my thoughts inevitably fall on my own two priceless daughters, I pray that I will live the abundant life I’m created to live (John 10:10)—focusing not so much on the dozens of items on my to-do list, which constantly run through my brain, but on living in this moment.

I’ll close with these lyrics from Steven Curtis Chapman (from “Miracle of the Moment”), which bear repeating on my blog:

‘Cause we are who and where and what we are for now
And this is the only moment we can do anything about

So breathe it in and breathe it out
Listen to your heartbeat
There’s a wonder in the here and now
It’s right there in front of you
And I don’t want you to miss the miracle of the moment….

And if it brings you tears
Then taste them as they fall
Let them soften your heart

And if it brings you laughter
Then throw your head back
And let it go….

This morning brings horrible news about one of my favorite singer/songwriters and his family. My husband called on his way to work to tell me that Steven Curtis Chapman’s five-year-old daughter Maria was killed when her teenage brother ran over her in the family’s driveway Wednesday. I’m sure the King will blog about this at some point too, because he’s always been the one warning me to keep an eye on the children outdoors. (Edit: He did)

According to this article and all others I’ve scanned, the incident was a complete accident—as are most instances of children getting killed in their own driveways. The news is so sad. I can’t imagine the emotions the family is experiencing right now. I can’t imagine being the son…or the parent. Now the man who wrote such songs as “With Hope” (about saying goodbye to children who die too soon) and “Cinderella” (about reveling in the moments with your child, as they are all too fleeting) has to face the death of one of his own little princesses.

I write this post as a call to prayer for this amazing man and his family. They face some very dark, guilt-ridden, grief-filled days. I also write as an alert to all of us who are charged with protecting our innocent little ones. I know how free-wheeling my Butterfly can be, twirling around, floating through her own world with no thought to anything around her. Let us all be especially vigilant, even in the driveways of our homes. Even when we are the ones who are driving.

The King and I experienced a tremendous date this weekend. With the girls happily secure at GG and Pawpaw’s, we drove to Atlanta and dined at Cafe Intermezzo (thanks, Monica, for the recommendation!). As my husband so eloquently details on his blog, it was delicious. My favorite part? The huge display cases of cake, pies, and tortes. Choosing only two was insanely difficult, but the derby pie and white chocolate raspberry torte were both amazing.

After our meal, we drove to the Civic Center to watch the Broadway tour of Disney’s The Lion King. In a word, Wow. In more words, the show was absolutely breathtaking. I wouldn’t say I’m a live theater buff, but I do enjoy the occasional cultural experience of actors playing roles right before my eyes, utilizing body language, vocal inflection, facial expression, and costumes to deliver a live spectacle in only one take. I’ve always loved the animated film about Simba and his realization of his place in the circle of life. The opening sequence of the cartoon is particularly dazzling, and the theater magnified it for me. A reviewer describes it:

It’s been said that the first 15 minutes of The Lion King are the most sublimely theatrical experience you can have in a theatre. When the performers—as cheetahs, zebras, rhinos, gazelles, buzzards and ostriches—proceed from the rear of the auditorium to the stage the audience invariably reacts with awe.

The sequence is extraordinarily moving for its very simplicity. The wonder is not at how much the actors look like animals, but in witnessing the human creativity that can take simple sticks and fabric to create the idea and beauty of a giraffe.

This person is exactly right. Before the show began, I warned the King that I would probably cry a few times. “But it’s a CARTOON!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. Later, after one particularly poignant moment, he nudged me and said, “I got chills!” (He may not relish me telling you that, but I swear it happened.) There were many moments like that throughout the production, but this opening sequence truly set the mood.

The mostly African American cast (and some native African) sang heartily and acted passionately. Harmonies, deep rhythms you literally felt in your heart, and swelling crescendos all worked together to move the story along.

Most amazing were the costumes. Most of the actors essentially played two parts—delivering their own expressions and spoken lines and also moving the gorgeous puppets that melded with their bodies. That director and costume designer Julie Taymor was able to conceive of such a beautiful way to present the animals is awe-inspiring. Rhinos, birds, lions, cheetahs, antelope, wildebeests, even elephants and giraffes paraded across the stage (and wound through the audience) at various moments during the show.

My favorite new songs were “They Live in You,” which reminded Simba that his father Mufasa (and all the great kings of the past) live on within him, and “Shadowland,” which reworked a melody from the original film score by adding moving lyrics for Nala to sing.

Back at the in-laws’ house that evening, I ordered the original cast recording and can’t wait to receive it. What a special date! I’m grateful that my man is willing to get some “culture” with me every now and then. I suppose he doesn’t mind too badly when it comes with white chocolate raspberry torte.

As the King reported, we enjoyed a late Christmas gift Sunday evening when we attended Steven Curtis Chapman’s final night of his “Live in this Moment” tour. What a night it was!

I first discovered Steven’s music in high school, and I’ve enjoyed all his albums released before and since then. He’s one of the most consistently entertaining, inspiring, and talented Christian musicians in the singer/songwriter ministry today. The King and I had attended one earlier concert of his, and last night’s lived up to the high expectations we built after that first performance. Steven opened the night with a reverent time of praise and worship led by his oldest son Caleb. As the King mentioned, his second son, Will Franklin, joined the band on percussion for this tour. Will was incredible, especially on the loud, rocking numbers.

Coupling a stellar performance with a heartfelt and personal plea for adoption support, Steven presented a genuine, faith-filled time of worship for the crowd. One of my favorite parts was when he sat on a stool with his guitar, accompanied only by his longtime pianist, and played excerpts from songs fans requested. My husband’s was the last song he played, which was exciting, but the whole segment was fun and a quick highlight of Steven’s mastery not only of the guitar but also of the piano (he took it over during one song!).

My other favorite part was listening to the story behind his tearjerker song “Cinderella,” then hearing him sing it while a video of dancing silhouettes played behind him. I think the King ALMOST cried. Almost. That song, like the theme of his entire tour, urges us to live in this moment*, especially regarding our children. I know I’ve often rushed through my days with the girls, feeling too stressed and busy to stop for imaginary play or a quick dance to a song. It’s important to seize these moments we have, for they will of course pass, as all moments do.

I’ll close with a few lyrics from “Miracle of the Moment”:

‘Cause we are who and where and what we are for now
And this is the only moment we can do anything about

So breathe it in and breathe it out
Listen to your heartbeat
There’s a wonder in the here and now
It’s right there in front of you
And I don’t want you to miss the miracle of the moment….

And if it brings you tears
Then taste them as they fall
Let them soften your heart

And if it brings you laughter
Then throw your head back
And let it go….

 *Steven explained that, as originally conceived, the concert title was “Live [with long 'i' sound as in 'alive'] in this Moment,” but that people had been calling it “Live [with short 'i'] in this Moment.” He admitted that either one applied! I’m going with the short “i” for this post.