Les Miserable

Les Miserable...A Story to Last a Lifetime

If you know me personally you know that my preference tends toward the melancholy. The artistic. Some might answer with "Really? I don't think so. You are usually the one with a ready smile and a bit of humor to lighten the mood." True. But if you really know me well you know that I prefer walks in the rain, and music in the minor key to sunshine and the satisfaction of major chords. When I sang opera in college my choices were always the tragic Italian arias over the lilting french melodies dripping with happiness. I would prefer to move people to tears of depth then make them laugh...I have always just been that way. 

So it is no surprise that my favorite musical of all time in the history of forever is Les Miserable. Set in the backdrop of 19th century France, Les Mis tells the tragic story of broken dreams, unrequited love, tragedy, and redemption. The layers of musical artistry and complexity weave the melodies into your soul until your heart beats along with the words "Do you hear the people sing, singing the songs of angry men, it is the music of a people who will not be slaves again!" And it swells with the sweeping, growing conviction of Javert as he sings "Stars." He is blinded by his devotion to his incomplete understanding of justice.

To say the messages and themes in this musical were complex yet relatable to the human spirit as a whole would be an understatement. I sit on the edge of my seat for the full 2 hour performance. I cry every time I see it. Though I know every line, could sing along word for word to every lyric, I still feel anticipation and appreciation for the way it moves me. Even after all these years.

I was first introduced to Les Miserable over 20 years ago. It later became a favorite of my best friend and I in college. Rather like a script of life's battles and lost love. We would sing those songs for hours and spend much time discussing our favorite characters. In true Stephanie style I have always preferred Fantine and Eponine to Cossette. Both of which die tragic deaths but represent all my melancholy soul holds dear. The character of Cossette, while one of the main characters, and who, in the end, finds true love and happiness amidst pain and regret, has never really appealed to me as much. Her rather chaste outlook, while adding a sense of innocence to the cynical and brutal world around her, lacks the depth of living through heartbreak the others possess. 

I went on to read the rather intimidatingly thick volume it is based on by Victor Hugo and proceeded to fall even more in love with the musical score. Each character and each moral theme seem to have their own lyrical line. The message of redemption and grace winning out over legalism and corruption run thru its entirety like a thick ribbon through a braid. 

I remember my college voice instructor telling me I should to go to Italy with him and sign Italian Opera. A dream of mine. Another professor said I should go to Boston and work on Broadway musicals. He laughed and said, "Of course you would always choose the Eponine's to the Cossette's though right?" How well he knew me...Another path, another lifetime ago. Its interesting to wonder what your life would be like if you had turned left instead of right...No real regret, just pondering.

Its fascinating actually. The week before we came to London I ran across a bunch of old writings of mine. Just musings, thoughts, wonderings really. Therapy in the written word. I found one that I had listed things I wanted to do, places to go, etc. Not so much a bucket list as a list of aspirations. Of things that meant a lot to me but seemed rather out of my reach. One was to adopt a child. Another was to see Les Miserable in London. Imagine my surprise when my sweet Mama gifted me with tickets. Two out of two. I am blessed to be a mommy and to have spent a unforgettable evening with Les Mis. and my best friend. 

This musical is a sprawling epic of altruism and idealism as well as greed and cruelty. It is raw emotions that bring it to life with a throbbing, heart-pounding energy that will bring goose-bumps to your skin and raise the hairs on the back of your neck.  I have found a deeper meaning that keeps drawing me back over the years. The eye-for-an-eye justice and legalism of Javert confronts the redemption and subsequent moral determination and compassion of Valjean. 

Valjean has every reason to hate and mistrust the world around him. But because of one act of compassion, he turns to God in wonderment and accepts the offer of grace. He spends the rest of his life attempting to care for the weak and outcast, prepared to sacrifice his own safety and happiness for others. Javert is the police inspector who devotes his life to hunting Valjean down for him to pay for his transgressions. "Honest, work just reward, thats the way to please the Lord," he says.  

In a world full of personal perspectives on justice, how to "win" salvation, works vs. grace, and other theological topics, this complex relationship, played out amid the interwoven lyrics and crescendos of Les Mis has always brought me back to basics. We are all sinners. We all deserve to be "imprisoned" for our transgressions yet we are offered grace with the hope we will accept it and be changed. Changed into people who can then be used by God. Transformed into people who let Gods love and attributes glow from them to be seen by others. 

Although every song is a favorite, three of them hold a special place in my heart. The first is "I Dreamed a Dream." I sang this song for my senior voice recital. It was one of only a few English language songs and the only one that was part of the Musical instead of the Operatic genera. Fantine (Cossette's mother) has reached the bottom of life's ladder and is reflecting on the dichotomy of what her life is like vs. what she dreamed it would be. It brings me to tears every time... 

The second song is "On My Own" sung by Eponine. She is the "friend" not the beloved. She is liked and appreciated by the man of her dreams but is not the one his heart loves. The way she described this difficult position with such a raw, articulate passion moves me every time.

Lastly is the a song I could sing in my sleep I know it so well. However, when I heard it tonight I wept. I heard it with different ears. A different heart. If spoke to me and for me in a new way. 

I was taken aback by how perfectly the anguished words spoke for my heart. Seeing as writing is one of my favorite things to do, I consider myself fairly adept at finding just the right turn of phrase that will express what I am trying to say. But there is a yearning, a pleading, a deep begging that has been at my core ever since Julianna has been diagnosed that I have been unable to capture in words. This song, these lyrics did. If you substitute the "he's" with "she's" and turn the idea just a bit you will hear my souls pleading to God.

Valjean is toward the end of his life. He is on the front lines of the revolution and his only goal is to bring Cossette happiness. The man she loves, Marius, has been injured in the battle and Valjean is desperate to bring him home alive to her. He sits by his side, exhausted, covered with the soil of battle. He is literally in the sewer of life. Trudging thru the worst of it looking for a way home. Sometimes carrying, half dragging, pulling him along, he pauses for moment to catch his breathe and looks heavenward. The song is the most gentle, raw, heart-wrenching prayer. Begging, pleading. laying it all out on the table before God, asking for a miracle. 

These are the yearnings of my heart for Julianna. The "Home" in the song is life as it could be with her well again. Please Lord, Bring her home...

God on high

Hear my prayer

In my need

You have always been there

She is young

She's afraid

Let her rest

Heaven blessed.

Bring her home

Bring her home

Bring her home.

She's like the son I might have known

If God had granted me a girl.

The summers die

One by one

How soon they fly

On and on

And I am old

And will be gone.

Bring her peace

Bring her joy

She is young

She is only a little girl

You can take

You can give

Let her be

Let her live

If I die, let me die

Let her live

Bring her home

Bring her home

Bring her home.

Look Up...

Look Up...

Thoughts from Westminster Abbey

Over a thousand years...thats how old the stones beneath my feet are. The cool marble under my fingertips. The stained glass above my head. Beams of light from the outside bring the figures in the colored glass to life. The images glow and cast warmth on the glistening gold and shadows below.

Westminster Abbey.

We visited there today. A holy place to the English Monarchy and a sacred and historic experience. To stand on the ground where so many important events have taken place, famous and brilliant people have stood...it causes one to really look at your own size.

My conclusion? We are small. In the scheme of history. How can the human mind, a mind that only lives 80 maybe 90 years...even begin to fathom something standing for over a thousand years? It can't. 

I have been to many ancient and important places around the world. I have stood in the underground chambers of the The Roman Colosseum. Where the slaves and animals were housed before being turned out to fight to their deaths. I have walked up the circling stairs to the top of the Tower of Pisa to gaze out on the Italian landscape. I have walked the rooftops of Il Duomo Di Firenze and gazed out over Florence. The dome casts its mighty shadow over the nearby museum housing The David statue.

All of these and many more have I seen, touched, felt in my heart. I know that each of them are works of unmatched value and history. Hundreds sometimes over a thousand years of it. But I still find it hard to imagine the hands that built these structures. The sweat that dripped down their noses and splashed onto the forming floors and columns as they labored all their lives on something some of them never saw completed. 

I think it is because our lives are a mere whisper in the grand scheme of things. A "blip" on the radar of time. A mere 80-90 years (if we are blessed) and then we are gone. Our finite minds cannot hold onto that much time. Put in perspective that much history. 

Westminster Abbey contains the remains of people such as Sir Isaac Newton, Alfred Lord Tennyson and Charles Dickens. Queens and Kings have marched there, been crowned in those same corridors. The music that has echoed off of those walls over the centuries...Oh my heart wishes I could hear it.

As much as we try, our humanity cannot hold onto the length of perspective it takes to truly and fully understand that much time. The stones under my fingertips...Oh of they could talk. The stories they would tell.

We cannot grasp it but we serve a God who can. Not only can He grasp it, but He is bigger then it. Time means nothing to him. Th course of history...He has seen every chapter. Yet He cares about OUR chapter...it blows my mind. How can a God be so big as to know and understand the full coarse of history yet be involved enough to know the cares on my heart? Yet somehow...He does. I find that terribly comforting. Knowing that I have a Father in Heaven who has it all handled. I dont have to figure out how He does it. its enough for me...that He does. It would be futile for me to try. A childlike attempt to understand something that my brain cannot contain. 

We went to Evensong at the Abbey tonight. Spent time hearing the words of God spoken and sung. Gods people are everywhere. I do not believe He is contained in one denomination. The way to Him is through a relationship with His son Jesus Christ. People of faith and devotion can be found in many many places. 

As we were quietly ushered into the Abbey and took our place in the rows of chairs, the air felt soft, quiet, sacred. The architecture was elaborate, ornate, breathtaking. While the view at eye-level was filled with intricate architecture, broad columns, statues, and golden emblems, I found my eyes being continuously drawn up. The ceiling was far far above our heads and the eye was pulled upwards. It is a work of the lines and how everything meets with an upward focus. Its like you can't help but tip your head back and just whisper...'Wow." Even though the gold of the incredible organ gleamed, the figures of the statues beckoned below...the eye was always pulled upward. The ceiling was ever so high above us. An intricate interweaving of stone and color. Every detail designed to draw your eyes higher and higher.

The columns broad, the archways formidable, the curves alluring. I looked around and saw that a great many of the others around me also had their heads tipped back looking up. I asked myself "Why?" It wasn't like there were boring or plain things at eye level. It wasn't as if there was a sign at the door that said, "Hey guys, be sure to look up and check out the ceiling."

No, in fact the eye level view was rather intricate and complicated in pattern and display. It was then I realized something. We are supposed to look up. When the world seems complicated and intricate...look up. When nothing makes sense at eye level...look up. Look up for help, for wisdom, for comfort, for peace. It was the psalmist David who wrote,

"I will lift my eyes, the the hills and their creator. Who made all heaven and earth. For He watches me, never sleeps no never slumbers, He is ever over me."

We need to lift our eyes. Lift them up. Out of the mire and fear and earthliness of our lives. Lift them up to look for Him.

The first note of the choir lifted and soared up to the the rooftop. The harmony filled me. It echoed and resounded until it filled every corner of the huge cathedral. I felt a tear escape my eyes and roll down my cheek. I felt the Mightiness of God. His power, His strength, His justice, His HUGENESS. He felt as alive and strong as the statement made by the arches and beams above me. 

Too often I focus only on how "small" God can get. What I mean is, how personal He is, how much He is my friend. All of those attributes are true. I love Him for it. He is the Awesome God of the world yet He fits into my heart...

But sometimes, every once in awhile it is good to remember His mightiness too. His powerful hand that parted the Red Sea. His voice that with a whisper calmed a raging storm. His energy that cannot be harnessed or dampened. He is a big and mighty God. And He is a good God. We have nothing to fear in Him.

Its kinda like as a kid you feel good knowing that you always have your mama or daddy who can come in a take care of business if
 bad things happened? He is our parent and He has that kind of power and so much more.

As we sit here staring down the evil of DIPG it is good for me to be reminded Who is the boss. Who created us. Who will ultimately save us all. He is bigger then DIPG. The horriblest of pediatric cancer with a 0% survival rate. Those words mean nothing to Him. He is bigger then DIPG. He is bigger then our pain, our fear, our rage, our exhaustion.

The service was meant for us. They read out of the Bible and every verse was about God's protection, His plan, His provision for our lives. They read Joshua 1:9, Team Julianna's verse,

“I have commanded you, ‘Be strong and courageous! Don’t tremble or be terrified, because the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."

I won't even pretend to try to wager what God's plan is for our Julianna. I pray it is healing and life. But as we stood in that place of a thousand years of history, our eyes were drawn heavenward and our hearts were filled with music. I walked out knowing this. God is here. He is Loving, He is tender and compassionate and HE IS BIG!

My Hero

Mind The Gap

Mind The Gap

The London rain. The smell of exhaust. The determined click of British heels on cobblestone. The flash of red from a double decker bus as it turns the corner just ahead of me. The brick architecture of the flats, tall, proper, at attention in a line down the endless winding streets. The lift and flow of the British accents all around me. The incredible helpfulness of complete strangers in the subway.

This is London to me. This and a million other little flashes of sound, and smell, and image. Our flat overlooks a little Fromagerie. This little shop has a life of its own. A rhythm. Every morning at 2am trucks pull into the small lane and unload boxes of fresh vegetables, fragrant onions and garlic hanging in strands, lettuce still dewy and crisp. At 7am the proprietor pushes open the heavy black oak doors and the smell of cheese and bread fill the roadway. Drifts up to the open window of our flat. Beckon us down. Wheels of freshly made cheese are stacked up on the window. Pungent and delicious. 

             

There is very little I love more then traveling to a new country. Experiencing the sights and sounds, the tastes and culture. Maybe it is because this isn't a sight seeing kind of trip, or maybe it is because all our hearts are filled with the reasons we are here, or maybe it is because they also speak English here, I hadn't expected to experience such a difference in culture. But there definitely is.

I have learned that just because we both speak English does not mean we understand each other. I have learned that I apparently have a strong enough accent that could cause good English folk to stare at me wide eyed as if I had just spoken Swahili. They look at my mouth as I talk as if to try to use my lips to decipher this foreign dialect called "American." I too seem to be straining to catch a familiar turn to the words. The bathroom is the toilet and the elevator is the lift. I only hope I am not butchering the Kings English too much. One doesn't want to be a "Bloody uncouth American" after all...

I have never really been intimidated by foreign public transportation. After all, mom and I navigated the subways in Rome, Italy, how hard could the London Underground be? They speak English here after all! Well I will admit that I has taken a bit longer for us here then in Italy despite the apparent English speak advantage. However we are now saying things like "Oh that wouldn't take us too long to get there, we could just hop on the underground at Baker Street, get off at Piccadilly Circus and take the 274 bus." You know, terribly native things like that.

The first time we rode the Tube (underground, subway, etc.) I almost laughed out loud when the British voice said very properly "Mind the Gap. Mind the Gap" as we stepped on and off. Very properly you understand. "The Gap" refers to the, at times, rather substantial space between the subway platform and the subway itself. Sometimes inches, others almost a foot of darkness stretches between where you are and where you are headed. And, because we are here, they would never say anything like "Hey, watch it!" or "Be careful" or "Watch your step people!" Mind the Gap. I LOVE it! So kind. Mind it. Look out for it. Pay attention to it. Don't fall into it.

So far the experience at Harley Street Clinic has been a good one. Brilliant minds have come together. Minds who invented pieces of equipment that navigate little ones brain matter. Minds that care and work toward progress every day. I sit here and it is 2330 at night on Friday March 3rd. Tomorrow night Julianna will check into the hospital for the CED catheter placement Sunday morning. it is a strange marriage of distraction and reality. Keeping busy with activities, and managing the medical needs and expectations.

Mom and I are so thankful to be here. It is worth every sacrifice. Every moment. Our goal, to make every moment easier for them. To live these moments of the unknown together, in prayer and solidarity. It is surreal being here. Walking up the street and seeing the Harley Clinic sign over the door. The hope of so many, the promise of nothing, the gift to some. The doors have opened, Father, we walk through the unknown holding onto Your ever-present hand.

Its hard not to wonder what life will be like after Sunday. Will it be different? How will she handle the surgery? Four catheters into her precious brain stem...Both miraculous and terrifying. 

A moment on a very personal topic that has been is close to my heart. I am realizing that the world is a kind, harsh, amazing, and sometimes judgmental place. It is so easy to sit on the sidelines and make judgments about others actions and decisions. I know I have done it too. Our minds tend to always frame  our interpretations of life into "What would I do if that were me?" Too often we respond to others reality with that in mind. I pray you are never in this reality. Unless you have had a child with terminal brain cancer...heard the words "Go home and make memories while you can," you cannot say what you would do. How u would spend your time. Whether you would "Fight" or "Enjoy the time left." 

Unless you have had the daunting responsibility of gathering together more money then your house is worth in a matter of weeks, just to give your child a chance, more time...you can't judge as to whether or not you would ask for money from others. Unless you have looked into their eyes, heard them talk of what they want to be when they grow up, all the while knowing they likely won't....unless you have heard them sob that they don't want to die, felt your heart break open in your chest, unless you have asked yourself "quality of life vs. quality of life...for your child...." You cannot weigh in on others choices. We each follow the path God leads us on. It may look different for each of us and that it OK. I will leave it at that...

I was struck with two thoughts yesterday as I heard those words "Mind the Gap." First of all, it feels like we are bouncing back and forth between parallel realities. Both real life, one where we are all together, walking down the street, experiencing a new city. Together. Julianna with her pigtails and new boots. Pink purse and ready smile. The glue in the middle of a family of diverse personalities. Normal. The other where we are walking up the steps of the Harley Street Clinic and using words like MRI, Surgery, Anesthesiologist and recovery time. Where we wait with baited breathe for the text that it went OK, that she has woken up from sedation and everything went OK. THE GAP. Between the way it has always been and the way it is now. Between the old normal and the new. Mind the Gap. It is a real gap. No sense pretending its not. But the devil would have us focus on the difference. Stare down into the dark space and experience the fear of falling in.

Mind the Gap. However I can testify that Jesus has and always will be there to lend us His hand as we traverse back and forth between these realities. He tells us:

I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world."

John 16:23

He told us there would be a GAP. Between the way He wanted for us and the trials and sorrow we live. He also told us that we should "take heart" He has won this battle. He has conquered this enemy.

The second thought around the phrase "Mind the Gap" is this. I have never been one who liked the unknown. Roller coasters with unexpected turns. Ya..no. (Except for the one Julianna and I rode on like 4 times in California! Ya, ONLY SHE could have convinced me to do that one! Love that girls daring spirit!) Usually I like the map in my hands, the plan in my head. I am not really amazingly spontaneous. I like an element of predictability to my life. In comes DIPG. A reality where nothing is predictable. Where the mind searches for patterns to treatments, complications and outcomes within the community and there is none. Random it feels. No way to know. Every child is different. 

I realize that we are standing on a subway platform. The distant sounds of the train resonant down the dark tunnel. The smell of the underground transit fills my nostrils. The push and hurry of the crowd all around me. The subway arrives, red doors open with a swoosh of air and an accented voice reaches down the tunnel, "Mind the gap. Mind the gap." I lift my feet and step toward the gap. It is wide, dark, foreboding. Why is it so wide? Why is the step into the subway so high? What lies down there in the darkness that would snatch me up should I fail to heed to warning?

I don't want to find out. I lean in and my foot finds solid, firm footing inside. The way out of the tunnel. Taking me from where I am to where I am going. The unknown. Yet is it? I may not know the route it will take but I do know its final destination. I may not know how long it will take to get there but I do know it will get there. This Gap between where we are and the next place, heaven. We may not know what is coming but we do have a Friend how died to close that gap. To give us assurance of the final destination. He laid his broken self down, so that we wouldn't fall into the darkness of fear. So we could, with confidence step into the future. On firm footing. He paid the price so that we won't fall into the GAP of brokenness. 

We must keep our eyes fixed on what is ahead. On the promise of the ultimate tomorrow. we must not look down into the darkness. if we do? It will draw us in. I know. I have been down there. I may again someday. Only human am I...But no matter where we go, He goes with us. No matter what we do, He holds us close.

We must focus on Jesus, the source and goal of our faith. He saw the joy ahead of him, so he endured death on the cross and ignored the disgrace it brought him. Then he received the highest position in heaven, the one next to the throne of God.

Hebrews 12:2

Sending Love from London. Thankful hearts for each of you. your prayers, kind words, generosity, compassion, solidarity, and love. Thankful for Team Julianna. The most amazing group of people who come together in support of the most amazing little girl. Whose heart is gentle, how loves her Jesus, who wants others to know Him too. Thank you every one...