Making our beds

"It is urgent that you listen carefully to this: Anyone here who believes what I am saying right now and aligns himself with the Father, who has in fact put me in charge, has AT THIS VERY MOMENT the real, lasting life and is no longer condemned to be an outsider. This person has taken a giant step from the world of the dead to the world of the living." -JESUS (john 5, the message, my emphasis)

The video is Liz Janes & Create(!) performing "Jesus is a Dying Bed-Maker" directed by my pal Zack Bent.

An aural supplement, episode 2

Running Time: 1:04:04 | File Size 59 MB
Download: .mp3
To subscribe to this podcast: http://feeds.feedburner.com/ARockeyHomeCompanionPodcast

This week your friend joel pays tribute to all those beloved vinyl LP's what fell victim to the basement flood of '07.

1. Sly & The Family Stone “M'Lady”
2. The Clash “Rock the Casbah”
3. Elvis Costello “Lip Service”
4. The Police “Canary in a Coalmine”
5. Squeeze “Cool for Cats”
6. Van Morrison “Sweet Thing”
7. The Beatles “I've Just Seen a Face”
8. Cat Stevens “Bitterblue”
9. Billy Joel “Summer, Highland Falls”
10. Pearl Jam “Last Exit”
11. The Who “How Many Friends”
12. Bob Dylan “One More Cup of Coffee”
13. Paul McCartney “Junk”
14. Lou Reed “New York Telephone Conversation”
15. Neil Young “For the Turnstiles”
16. Stevie Wonder “All Day Sucker”
17. Cyndi Lauper “When You Were Mine”
18. Simon & Garfunkel “Keep the Customer Satisfied”
19. Bruce Springsteen “The Promised Land

Dust collecting

To the left; a photo of my dad before his reductive eye surgery. To the right; a young boy with his father's eyes. These snapshots have both existed in the same collection of family photos for right near thirty years and not until Saturday night can I ever remember looking at them side by side. As Miranda and I sat with my parents in their living room, thumbing through these and a box of assorted Rockey memories from the past fifty years, the four of us laughed ourselves silly. Ridiculous outfits, outrageous hair and naked babies all make for some good ol' family fun.

As the evening came to a close, Miranda and I thanked my folks for a fun night and headed for the door. That's when I noticed my large wooden crate of records resting in the corner of the entryway. My parents have been generous enough to allow Miranda and I to store many of our possessions in their basement for safekeeping while my cousin's family is staying with us. Unfortunately, as irony would have it, my parent's basement flooded about three weeks ago. I'm not just talking saturated carpets, but inches of standing water. My dad single-handedly relocated all of our things to the upstairs as soon as they'd discovered the flooding. I had been over to their house later that night and had neglected the opportunity to separate all of the albums thus allowing them to dry. Now, three weeks later, as I knelt down to examine my precious collection of vinyl, I discovered that moisture had bred mildew binding the faces of the album covers together. How could I let this happen? I was angry. I was mostly angry at myself for not caring for them before or after the great flood had claimed part of their beauty. I was quiet the entire silent ride home.

I woke up this morning thinking of a couple of things. First, that all of those family photos could just as easily succumb to the same elements which claimed the album covers were they to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. What an even greater tragedy that would be. That's the reality though. All of it, as precious and priceless as it may be, is fleeting. Some of it passing more quickly than the rest, but surely enough all returning to dust. Second, we can tell ourselves that it's those memories we can never lose, yet most of my grandfather's memories from the past fifty years seem to have slipped from his hold. Everything is slowly buckling beneath the weight of mortality. Surely there must be more to this life than dust collecting dust.

Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse

Of Montreal video directed by Mike and Matt Chapman (creators of Homestar Runner). "Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse" appears on the album Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? There's something mutually disturbing and intriguing about a giant bear head on a red tuxedoed chap. I'm wondering if the ghost gets up to leave because he's grown tired of the performance, has dinner reservations or simply had too many espressos before the show.

An aural supplement, episode 1

Running Time: 1:08:11 | File Size 63 MB
Download: .mp3
To subscribe to this podcast: http://feeds.feedburner.com/ARockeyHomeCompanionPodcast

Welcome to Episode 1 of A Rockey Home Companion’s audio supplement; recorded live from the the Rockey home in majestic Greenwood, Indiana.

1. Joel Rockey “Waking Sleep”
2. The Shins “Sleeping Lessons”
3. Rusty Redenbacher “Older”
4. Elvis Costello “Green Shirt (demo)”
5. Prince “She’s Always in My Hair”
6. Tom Waits “Long Way Home”
7. The Be Good Tanyas “When Doves Cry”
8. Uncle Tupelo “Gun”
9. Jeff Tweedy “In a Future Age”
10. Lucinda Williams “Car Wheels on a Gravel Road”
11. Bill Mallonee “Wintergreen”
12. Flying J & The Pilots “Through & Through”
13. Of Montreal “Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse”
14. Pearl Jam “Reign O’er Me”

Strange visitor from foreign lands

It could be snow, couldn't it? but it's been so long... I just don't know what to make of it.

Lost / Found

In my experience, it's been quite apparent that to those in the american midwest who describe themselves as 'christians' or at least attend church-type services once a week, 'church' can be very different ideas to different people. Sometimes described verbally in different terms, but often defined by the way 'church' is lived out in their lives. At times, I've seen 'church' described as a sort of club to be joined or a community social gathering. Other times it appears as place to go where five point sermons and fluffy love songs are meant to give a spiritual, yet often emotional boost to the faithful attendees that they might make it through another week and come back for more the following sunday. Folks gather to pay an awful lot of lip service but rarely put their money where their mouths are. There exist hierarchies of power and money often finds itself sitting much too high among them. There is a way of life preached and a way of life lived who occasionally shake hands before going their separate ways. People are encouraged to find redemption before God, yet when they allow themselves to be broken before their brother they are met with judgment and scorn. Is this a fitting description of those who Jesus would recognize as His bride? Are these portraits a fair likeness of the beloved of the Most High God?

Yeah, I'm guilty of such attitudes and actions as much as anyone. Yeah, I have some opinions, many of which are still probably slanted a bit by my experiences within the professional structures of the church. I do hope, however, that this perspective has matured a little since a year ago when I sat across from two men who would be described by others as leaders in the church. One of these men who I once thought of as a pastor and the other who was a future church elder of the most unbiblical character expected of such a position would proceed to tell me "we've decided that you should look for a new ministry." I sat there in the cold hallow confines of that pastor's den feeling like my gut was somehow trying pass my heart through my lower intestines. These two men continued on giving me little explanation to this decision and laying out options for me to make this decision look like my own. I opted not to play the little games designed to tidy up the mess which these men made. The next several months were painful and messy for my wife and myself as well as the kids and their families who this executive decision left in its wake.

Early on in the mess, I wanted to believe that it could be possible that God in His foresight would allow us to be ejected from that season of life for reasons which were righteous and good. Whatever the case, my wife and I soon realized that our lives had become much less busy than they were when our lives were consumed by church programs. We had time to spend with family and friends which we hadn't had in years. We were now able to spend time with my Alzheimer's-stricken grandfather and my grandmother who was his primary care-giver. The dementia had progressed far beyond what I had remembered and over the next several months, it would become even worse. He remembered my wife and I as coworkers or folks who he went to school with. He began forgetting who his children were. He would make up stories of people who were over at the house. He would talk almost exclusively about his days in the army or working as a salesman or employee of RCA. The disease was taking its toll on his mind. It was also taking its toll on my grandmother who would often find herself getting frustrated and angry at him. She began realizing that the care and discipline she had to give her husband was not unlike that which her youngest daughter had to give her three-year-old child.

Growing up, my grandparents were always a part of my life, but along with my wife I was becoming closer to my grandmother than I had ever been. I spent a good part of the summer painting their house and eating lunch with them. My wife and I would try to have dinner with them at least once every couple of weeks. Grandma began opening up about how hard it has been caring for Grandpa. My mother, who also lives nearby and spends a good deal of time talking with Grandma knew that something was going to eventually have to give. Over the holidays, my mom's brothers were over at the house and everyone was having to face the reality of how Grandpa's dementia had progressed. We all agreed that we would begin looking into Alzheimer's care facilities together. Then came the straw which broke the camel's back. Grandma was awoken one morning by the police knocking at her door inquiring about whether this was the house where Grandpa lived. It seemed that he had wandered out of the house to get the paper in the early hours of the night and kept on walking a few miles down the road to a gas station where he bought some cupcakes. At the advice of Grandpa's doctor, accompanied by my mom, Grandma took Grandpa to the hospital where he would stay for several days while his Alzheimer's was evaluated.

I've since been spending time with my grandparents while Grandma decides what move to make next. It's all such a scary and difficult thing to deal with. I can only imagine what it would be like for her to go through this all alone. The fact is that there were many times when she's felt very much alone in dealing with this merciless disease. However, these days I see her face glow when my wife and I arrive at the hospital to visit Grampa or when my mom and I accompany her to visit care facilities. I had lunch with her the other day and I heard her describe how she knows now that she isn't alone in this and how blessed she is by the family she has in her life.

I doubt that my wife and I would be as close to the situation with my grandparents as we've been if our lives had not been so freed up from the busyness of church programs. We've been freed to care for those who need care. We've been allowed the time to love those who need to know they're loved. I told my grandmother, "There have been times in the past year that I've been angry at God and I've cried out 'Why?' But this is the God who loves us." That God would let us be thrown out of a place so that we could be thrown into the life of a woman on the verge of losing her husband and in need of knowing she isn't alone is a quite beautiful thing.