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We were listening to the Dropkick Murphy’s “Shipping Up To Boston” the other night and feeling all Irish and jiggy, when Michael proclaimed to me, “you know, I think I’d like to see the Pacific Northeast.”
Funny how singing about Boston could getcha thinking about a Japanese vacation. Heh heh.
It’s Talk Like a Pirate Day, ye land lubbers! Thump yer peg-legs and join me in celebratin’ with a swig of yer fav’rite brew. I’m havin’ some Cap’n Crunch. Yarrrrr.
If I had me a scooter instead of me schooner, I’d be here.
Rich Mullins has been gone ten years today. Forget the overplayed “Awesome God” chorus: this guy’s music is really, really good. I’ve been listening to his songs lately, and I just love the piano, the dulcimer and the way he put his lyrics together. Beyond the music, he was a guy who lived outside of the Christian music establishment – always serving the poor, always giving of himself and his money, always focused heavenward. His music never gets old to me (except for said chorus), and his humble life is one to admire, always pointing to Jesus. In honor of Rich today, here’s his lyrics to one of my favorite songs. Makes my heart soar every time I hear it…especially on this rainy day on the plains.
Calling Out Your Name
Well the moon moved past Nebraska
And spilled laughter on them cold Dakota Hills
And angels danced on Jacob’s stairs
Yeah they danced on Jacob’s stairs
There is this silence in the Badlands
And over Kansas the whole universe was stilled
By the whisper of a prayer
The whisper of a prayer
And the single hawk bursts into flight
And in the east the whole horizon is in flames
I feel thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And I hear the prairies calling out Your name
I can feel the earth tremble
Beneath the rumbling of the buffalo hooves
And the fury in the pheasant’s wings
And there’s fury in a pheasant’s wings
It tells me the Lord is in His temple
And there is still a faith that can make the mountains move
And a love that can make the heavens ring
And I’ve seen love make heaven ring
Where the sacred rivers meet
Beneath the shadow of the Keeper of the plains
I feel thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And I hear the prairies calling out Your name
From the place where morning gathers
You can look sometimes forever ’til you see
What time may never know
What time may never know
How the Lord takes by its corners this old world
And shakes us forward and shakes us free
To run wild with the hope
To run wild with the hope
The hope that this thirst will not last long
That it will soon drown in the song not sung in vain
And I feel thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And I hear the prairies calling out Your name
And I know this thirst will not last long
That it will soon drown in the song not sung in vain
I feel thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And with the prairies I am calling out Your name
Can you feel the rumbling coming from the middle of America? Tomorrow is the matchup that Husker football fans have been waiting for all year. #1 USC comes to town. ESPN’s College GameDay is going to broadcast from the stadium. With tickets going upwards of $1000 apiece, we are tossing around the idea of going down to Lincoln to make fools of ourselves in front of the GameDay crew. The atmosphere here is electric. I’ve never been so excited about an almost-certain loss in my life! It’s official: we’ve got the Husker fever. Even Reese, who can now scream “BIG GO RED!”, “NEBRAKASS!” and “GO HUCKERS!” Close enough.
This is what I’d be. Pay special attention to “one of the greatest people of all time.” Finally, someone has figured me out. HA.
You’re Watership Down!
by Richard Adams
Though many think of you as a bit young, even childish, you’re
actually incredibly deep and complex. You show people the need to rethink their
assumptions, and confront them on everything from how they think to where they
build their houses. You might be one of the greatest people of all time. You’d
be recognized as such if you weren’t always talking about talking rabbits.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
