Sometimes you watch. Sometimes you are watched.

Matthew and I read Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller several years ago. Recently, it surfaced again and so, I was glancing through the pages the other night. The title makes it obvious that the author will be making some reference to jazz - whether as a metaphor, the focus of a memory, or something else. When I read the book the first time, the whole jazz thing didn't really catch my eye but this time it did.

Marginally related thought..........
Come to think of it, I bet it's because we were in St. Louis Friday evening at a baseball game and afterwards, we went to 11 11 Mississippi, and our waiter was Rick who was pretty fun to interact with, and the music was this smooth jazz that I really liked, and I said so to Rick, and he said under his breath that I wouldn't like it so much after seven or eight straight hours of listening to it, and we laughed and talked about jazz for a little while, and well, I really like jazz. I always have.
End of marginally related thought.......

Donald Miller starts off his book by saying "I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn't resolve." Since I love jazz music, I was intrigued. During the nano-second (whatever that is) between his first and second sentence, a hypothesis formed in my head. Maybe there are just two kinds of people in the world - those who need things to resolve and those who are ok living with the unresolved. And maybe whether or not a person likes jazz is the best way to tell the two apart.  And if that's true, I guess I'm one of the "unresolved" people.

He goes on to explain, "But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes. After that I liked jazz music." Wow, that was a quick turn-around. So does that mean we can change from jazz-not-likers to jazz-likers? If so, does that also mean that we can change from needing resolution to not needing it? Hmmmm.

"Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way," Miller concludes. Ahh, yes - good point. I then thought of the mentors in my life - the people who showed the way and that leads me to what I actually came here to say. I need people in my life who are not like me - people who love and experience things I've never even heard of - people who are ahead of me in some kind of way - people who I can watch.  I also must realize that I am sometimes that person who is being watched. My life is intertwined with others.

My Dad died in April and I miss him. He was a person that I watched. He loved southern Illinois peaches, blue grass music, road trips with the family, reading, story-telling, camping, the harmonica, campfires, politics, and his pocket knife. He loved cooking Saturday morning breakfast, teaching and learning, talking and listening, hiking, and celebrating life's milestones by "gathering everyone around the table." Dad loved to take a red delicious apple and peel off the skin in one big spiral. By watching my father, I came to love these things too. When he died, we all contributed some thoughts to a booklet that we gave to all who attended his visitation and funeral. Here's what I wrote:


Dear Dad,
When I was a young girl, you taught me how to find the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, and the North Star, Polaris. You told me stories about how soldiers and others at sea and in the wilderness could always find their way by looking up to the North Star. You explained how people around the world are comforted when they are lost and then can finally navigate again once they get a look into the night sky and find Polaris. By it, we are guided to True North.

You are my compass – my Polaris – one who helps me navigate this world, this life. You lead, not by pointing me in the right direction, but by traveling that very path and inviting me to join you. When I’ve lost my bearings, you have helped me find the North Star once again. You never claimed to be True North. Instead, you were like John the Baptist, one who points the way.

I suppose that is why it has been easy for me to view God as my heavenly father. If He is a father like you have been, I am blessed. It is also because of your life that I recognize Him as True North. Your genuineness and character is a reflection of His. I think of you when I hear Jean Valjean rightly say that, ".....to love another person is to see the face of God."

I know that you feel at home in the place He has prepared for you. I imagine it with a front porch to welcome visitors, a simple interior, and of course, one hook on the wall. Invite Jason over for a walk to the pond. He’s just down the road. He’s been waiting for you. I’ll think of you both when I look up to the stars. I love you and miss you. We will be together again.   Rebecca

Joe Plasters - 1929-2011