See what’s become of me

April is fleeing. The year is almost one-third past. I am one-twelfth of the way to my 74th birthday. Time, time, time measures the fleeting numbers of our days.

It can feel like the days are flying by — how is it possible we are already this many years old?

But a long time is still a long time. If I get my dad’s 96 years of life (and that’s a big “if,” as no other man in my family lived that long), I have around 22 years to go. That is a long time, long enough to grow a human to adulthood, and that is not a swift process.

Twenty-two years ago I had published none of my 17 books, and I was barely one-quarter of the way through my long association with my dear Red. I had been editor of the venerable Door County Advocate for less than two years, and the paper had not yet been sold to the corporation that would gut that wonderful newspaper. All of that is a lifetime ago, so I may have as much as a lifetime to live.

I’m on my 32nd journal in 11 years; if I were to live another 22, would anyone ever read through my 96 journals? What a thought.

Will I look back someday on the completion of my Dimensia saga? (And wouldn’t you like to know what that is?) I know every day ends with boxes left unchecked on my to-do list, and so I expect my life will, too. Some days, even the “write in journal” box is unchecked.

Time is a-wasting, too. I have fewer miles to go before I sleep than I have already traversed, and that is always cause for some anxiety. We know what “should” be done today and we tackle it head-on — what work we should do on the tomorrow and next-year tasks are a little fuzzier to determine. What steps should I take today to reach what destination next April 27, or five April 27s from now? How can I know? It’s only a guess, a hope and a prayer what I will be doing in 10 minutes. All of our plans are a guess, a hope and a prayer, though, aren’t they?

And yet here I am, relatively safe and comfortable after 73 years of guessing, hoping and praying. If that seems like a long time, that’s because it is. Never mind that it was about five minutes ago that I was reading a book about the far-distant future called 1984 and watching a movie about decades from now called 2001: A Space Odyssey.

His will be done

I was going through my list of what I want to do with my life while my earthly vessel is still capable of doing anything. “I want — I want — I wish I could —” when something pulled me up short, and I asked a different question.

“What would you have me do, Lord?” I said out loud, and it was meant as a prayer. “Propel me, push me, lead me in your ways. Going for what I want isn’t working out the way I hoped.”

“First,” and I almost heard his voice, “Take care of the blessings I have entrusted to you — the house, the land, the dogs, your earthly vessel …”

I looked out the window into the backyard. A rabbit was crossing timidly, watching to see if there were canines about. A bird pecked at the remains of yesterday’s seed; I hadn’t yet put out the daily allotment. It was quiet in the house, and I hated to disturb the dogs’ sleep by getting up to fill the bird basin.

I barely was able to resist checking to see if my newly posted song had collected any Likes. I so want people to love that song — and there I went again with the “I want.”

I’ve long kind of disliked Christian songs that lead with the phrase, “I want.” I always feel like barking back: Don’t sing about wanting to draw near to God, just go ahead and draw near to God, for example. I was just as guilty, writing page after page about what I want.

Again, I could almost hear his voice: “Now you’ve got it. Don’t write about wanting to follow my will. Just follow my will. At the risk of sounding like a shoe commercial, just do it.”

And, Lord willing, that’s what I’m going to do.

The First Song

Not long ago I wrote about “My Last Song,” which is the last song on my new collection of homemade music, Crimson Sky on New Year’s Morn, heading to your favorite streaming and/or downloading service on May 19.

“If this will be my last song, may it be of peace and love; may it be a song of Jesus and blessings from above,” I sang, and I wrote about how we never know if we’re doing something for the last time.

“If this will be my last song — if this will be my last day — if this will be my last blog post — if I treated every venture as if it’s the last — and what do I want to do with it?” I wrote. “Let it be about peace and love, let it call attention to Jesus, let it encourage those who need encouragement and lift their spirits.”

When I posted the post on Facebook, my dear cousin commented, “But what if it could be your first, not last — First song this morning? I get it. I just don’t want you to stop.”

That got me to thinking: When God said, “Let there be music,” what would the first song have sounded like? My pastor friend recently shared the ancient words of Augustine describing Christians: “We are Easter People, and our song is ‘Alleluia.’” Well, of course the first song would be “Alleluia,” or “Praise God.”

I have been leaning pretty hard lately on a familiar chord progression — C, Am, F, G — which appears in so many songs it probably could have been the very first chord progression. It also lends itself to all sorts of classic harmonies.

Toss all those thoughts into a bag and shake gently, and out came this little worship song, or anthem, or however you might want to describe it.

Warren Bluhm · The First Song

The First Song (Easter People)

In the beginning God said, “Let there be music,”
And there was music.
In the beginning God said, “Let there be song,”
And there was song.

And the song was “Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,”
We sang “Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,”
The first song was “Alleluia.”

In the beginning God said, “Let there be music,”
And there was music.
In the beginning God said, “Let there be song,”
And there was song.

And the song was “Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,”
We sang “Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,”
The first song was “Alleluia.”

We are Easter People, and our song is “Alleluia.”
We are Jesus People, and our song is “Alleluia.”

Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,
The first song was “Alleluia.”

We are Easter People, and our song is “Alleluia.”
We are Jesus People, and our song is “Alleluia.”

Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,
The first song was “Alleluia.”