The Soundtrack of Life

I know. I am strange. My friend, Susan Ploughe put it this way. “You live your life to a sound track.”

Just like you one has no control over the content of one’s dreams, I have no control over the songs I wake up to. I’m not talking about our CD alarm which is currently waking me up to Jars of Clay. I am talking about songs that just come to me, dusting themselves off from decades ago.

One night I actually dreamed about a weasel nesting in the engine compartment of our Suzuki. I awoke with a song running around the carpenter’s bench of my mind. “All around the carpenter’s bench, the monkey chased the weasel…” The sad part of this whole strange side of my life is that I just cannot erase the song once it rears its ugly head. I might have just finished listening to Silvio Rodriguez on my iPod, but once the album is over, I find myself singing to myself again, “The monkey chased the weasel.”

I have thought of making a list of the crazy songs that come to my mind. One of them I recall is “Nothing could be finer that to be in Carolina in the morning.” I hadn’t thought of that song in thirty years!

The worst song, though, is one by the Monkees. It seems to haunt me, coming to me in the middle of the night or even the middle of the day. I might be totally absorbed in a task and suddenly gasp in disgust because that silly old song is running on my sound track. I can’t even tell you which song it is and I refuse to try to think of the title right now, for fear of starting up that track again. It is on the “Top 25 Most Played” on my mental iPod.

Amy Carmichael has a much more spiritual approach to “How Songs Come.” In her essay by that title she writes, “We have a little bird who has the pleasant custom of turning disturbing things into a cause for singing. The wind blows his bough and wakens him at midnight. His whole world is moving restlessly; he sings a tiny note or two then, perhaps to comfort himself. It is good to learn to do that.”

The other night I awoke to a bird that seemed desperate for attention in the middle of the night. I thought of Amy Carmichael’s observation and prayed that God might give me a welcome tune to sing myself back to sleep.

“Please, Lord. Not the Monkees - and not any monkeys chasing weasels. Let my life sound track be the one which You place in my heart, whatever my situation.”