I'm on the phone with my little brother right now, and we're "rehearsing" the hymn "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" for our friend Amy's wedding later this month. I sent him the chord chart earlier this week, and tonight, after making it through the first line and a half, he called me to complain about the dm7 chord in the second line. Typical.
Ok. Now we're off the phone and I can focus on the millions of little stories running through my head. I think tonight I'll just tell three of them.
#1, or, Why You Can't Skip the Dm7
In the world of music theory, there are a bunch of different seventh chords, classified by the type of triad formed by the root, third, and fifth, and then again by the quality of the seventh interval between the root and the seventh. In ear training classes you develop all sorts of techniques (mostly associations based on feelings) so you can recognize these chords instinctively, rather than having to logic through all the notes you're hearing. My favorite, by far, is the minor-minor seventh chord, which is built with both a minor triad and a minor seventh interval. The cool thing about this chord, aside from the sound which is in and of itself awesome, is that in context it often creates interest in potentially boring situations. Often, you can substitute a minor-minor seventh chord built on the second degree of a scale for a major chord built on the fourth degree of a scale, and in a world where most worship songs bounce back and forth between I, IV, V and the occasional vi, a ii7 can add a lot. Ok, musically nerdy moment over. But the reality is that by playing this chord in the song we're rehearsing, it adds something poignant, a reminder that not all is as it should be. It also adds motion, propelling us forward to the resolution of the chord, reminding us that we have to keep going. I don't play the guitar, so I don't understand what's hard and what's not, but I'm not letting him off easy. The dm7 stays.
#2, or, How Ebenezer Sometimes Equals Bricks
Ebenezer is a funny Old Testament word that shows up in the second verse of "Come Thou Fount," depending on which arrangement you're using. It basically means "monument" or "reminder" and the context is building something to remember God's faithfulness. Earlier today, I was helping a friend pack up her home in preparation for moving this weekend, and I came across a third of a brick sitting on the kitchen table. "What's the story here?" I asked, not expecting the answer that followed. It turns out that buying this house was quite a process, and the previous owners were not happy with the outcome. In what can only be assumed to have been bitterness, when they left, they took a pile of bricks that was waiting to be used to finish a landscaping project, leaving behind only six or so broken bricks. My friend has held onto this chunk of brick for the last 10 years, using it at a bookend and various other things. It is a little Ebenezer, a monument to something that came before. I'm waiting for my friend who is getting married to tell me which version of the hymn she'd like us to sing, and I'm hoping she picks the one with this funny, strange-to-our-21st-century-ears word.
#3, or, Why My Brother is Going to be OK
During most of our phone call, my brother had me on speakerphone, and I quickly realized he was not the only person on his end. A friend of his from school was there with him, a friend I had the privilege of meeting last January when, in a stroke of genius, I planned a vacation and escaped snowy Spokane for beautiful San Diego. As I talked with both boys, a wave of gratitude swept over me for their friendship and for the other guys in their lives. Last year's visit was about as good a visit as a big sister can have with her little brother, and I fell in love with each of the 4 or 5 guys that he spends most of his time with. I couldn't feel better about the choices my brother has made in his friendships. First of all, they are almost all engineering students of one sort or another, which means they're nerdy enough to avoid most college boy trouble, and if they do try to pull something, it's so nerdy that it is also not inherently stupid or dangerous. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, they're all great guys. They love God and their families and their friends, they work hard at both school and enjoying life, and they were so sweet to me when I visited. They laughed at my terrible jokes and didn't mind my tagging along on all their adventures, and complimented me on everything from how I rib on my brother to how I sing. They take my brother home to visit their families and they call when they're near our home visiting family or friends. They care for one another, and celebrate life together and push each other to work hard. One of things I value most about my college experience is the relationships that were forged during those formative years, and one of the things I was worried about most when my brother left for school was that he wouldn't have that transforming experience of sharing life with a consistent group of people. Turns out he did just fine. Every time I think about that trip, or look the picture on my desktop of my brother and I in downtown San Diego, I remember God's faithfulness in our lives, especially with our friendships. So, here I raise my Ebenezer. Good night.
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