When we launched this website back in 2007 none of us had any real idea what it might grow into. Andrew invited a bunch of (mostly) strangers to start writing together just to see what would happen and, well, things definitely happened. We grew from a simple private blog, to selling a few odd books and some music, to selling a lot of odd books and music and founding a small publishing house. We’ll host the fifth Hutchmoot in Nashville this October, and in just a few weeks we’ll hold the first ever Hutchmoot Retreat at Laity Lodge in Texas. And all this has happened because of you, a vibrant community of readers and supporters that reaches around the world. In the last seven years, though, we’ve all grown and changed, and as a result, a lot of us don’t have as much time to devote to the Rabbit Room blog as we once did. But that’s not a bad thing—it just means we’re doing other kinds of work. A few cases in point: Russ Ramsey published Behold the Lamb of God: An Advent Narrative, Jonathan Rogers has written a few books, one of which (The Terrible Speed of Mercy) was dedicated to the Rabbit Room community; A. S. “Pete” Peterson published his Fin’s Revolution series; Andrew’s final two Wingfeather Saga books will be published by Rabbit Room Press; S. D. Smith started a beautiful website called Story Warren, which we think of as a super cool cousin of the Rabbit Room; all of our writers have written and published poetry, short stories and essays in The Molehill; and that’s not to mention all the good music the Rabbit Room community has been a part of promoting. Still, the thoughtful posts and conversations begotten by the website itself are at the heart of what keeps the community active. So if we want to continue the good work that the Rabbit Room does, we need to find ways to keep it healthy. This is something that’s been on our minds for months now. We’ve spent many a day wondering what the future of the Rabbit Room looks like and how best to nurture it. You gave us some encouraging and insightful feedback in answer to Andrew’s “What is the Rabbit Room For?” post, and Pete has discussed this with many of you, exploring the nature of the issue and the possibilities it presents, and at last, we’ve made some exciting decisions. The first is that we’re moving the Rabbit Room to an open submissions policy. We get submissions on an almost daily basis and sometimes they’re great. But we’ve never had a clear policy in effect for how to handle them. So as of today, we have a comprehensive submissions policy posted on the site (the link is at the top of the page). The purpose of this change isn’t to flood the Rabbit Room with random posts from strangers. The purpose is to invite folks to write, to create, to take some ownership in the Rabbit Room, and to give us a structured way to select the best for use while having clear grounds to turn down others. (Click here to check out the Submissions page.) The second is that we’re going to change up the masthead, which means two things: 1) We’ve invited some fresh new voices to be contributors. Many of them will be familiar to you, some may not be, but all of them have interesting perspectives on life, art, faith, and community, and we’re excited to see what each of them will bring to the conversation that the Rabbit Room fosters. 2) The new masthead will be missing some old friends. Let me assure you, though, that no one has been “fired.” If you notice that a name that has always been on the list is gone, that doesn’t mean we’ve kicked someone out and don’t love them any more. We’re merely graduating some folks to alumni status. All of our writers are still more than welcome to post as often as they’d like. But the fact is that the contributor list needs to reflect the writers who are actively contributing to the content. As some people have grown over the years, they’re no longer able to post as often as they once did, and we totally get that. They’ll be by to visit as often as they can. So, to the new contributors: Welcome! I’m glad you’re here and I can’t wait to see how your spot at the table is going to change you and us and build the Kingdom in ways that we can’t imagine. Allow us to introduce everyone to the new kids on the block: Rebecca Reynolds – Rebecca is a writer, teacher, poet, songwriter, mom, preacher’s wife, and two-time Hutchmoot speaker. Mix all that together and she’s bound to have something unique to offer. If you’ve seen her on Facebook, you’ve probably noticed that she’s incredibly articulate, passionate, contemplative—and not at all scared to write about it (at the very least, she exercises exceptional bravery in the face of fear). David Michael Bruno – Dave is the author of The 100-Thing Challenge. He and his wife live in California but that hasn’t stopped them from coming to Hutchmoot at least twice (maybe three times). We’ve always been impressed with Dave’s thoughtfulness and look forward to hearing more from him. Chris Slaten – Chris is a singer-songwriter and literature teacher. Need we say more? Last year he released his first EP, The Mantis and the Moon, and some of us played it non-stop for about two months. He’s getting ready to start a new project with Ben Shive. David Mitchel – David has been to two Hutchmoots now and he’s become a big part of the online community. He’s a lawyer, but we like him anyway, and we’ve always appreciated his humor and well-spoken nature. Chris Yokel – Chris is a poet, teacher, and soon-to-be husband. He’s published six (?) books of his poetry and even teaches online classes about The Silmarillion, for which he wins huge nerd points (a good thing). Jen Rose – Jen has been a part of the Rabbit Room community for as long as we can remember. She and Chris (Yokel) met at Hutchmoot and are about to become the third official Hutchmatch. She’s a fine writer and thinker and we can’t wait to see more of her work. Barbara Lane – Barbara has a Fiddler’s Gun inspired tattoo, so she’s in. ‘Nuff said. (She’s also a teacher, a great writer, and an accomplished doodler.) Joe Sutphin – We wanted to bring aboard more visual artists and Joe is one of them. Joe is an illustrator and he’s currently hard at work illustrating The Warden and the Wolf King. We love his style, and we’re happy to have him aboard. Chris Stewart – Chris is the second of our visual artists. He’s designed the covers of The Molehill vols. 1 & 2 as well as the Hutchmoot 2013 poster. He’s an illustrator, loves cats, and hopes one day to write and illustrate children’s books. Also, he lives about three blocks from here, which means we can go choke him if he doesn’t contribute often enough. Heidi Johnston – Heidi is the author of Life in the Big Story, and is Irish—she lives just outside of Belfast, not far from C. S. Lewis’s birthplace. Andrew and his family got to know her and her sweet family during their visit to Northern Ireland last summer, and her daughters video chat with Skye from time to time. Jamin Still – A few years ago, Jamin met with Andrew at a little coffeehouse in the Midwest and gave him a painting. That painting now hangs on a wall at the Warren, and Andrew looks at it every time he brews coffee. Jamin has been plugging away at his otherworldly art for years now, and we’re glad for this chance to peek into his process. So there you go. Many of the original contributors are still here and still active. Expect to see them for years to come. But we also want you to get to know these new folks. You might call them the Class of 2014. It’s going to be a great year. Thanks for being a part of our community.

[Editor’s note: Eric Peters’ new EP, Counting My Rings: B-Sides, comes out next Tuesday. We asked Eric to spill the beans and give us a song by song breakdown of each track included on the new release. Here’s resulting spilt-bean pattern.] Occasionally in an artist’s (me) career (mine), there are leftover songs, extras, B-sides—lagniappe, if you will. These are complete songs (produced, recorded, and mixed) that, for various reasons, have failed to find a home on any album. I’m fortunate enough, if fortune is the right word, to have a few such extra songs—rings—hiding in the recesses of my portfolio. I’m currently between studio albums (BiRDS OF RELOCATiON was released in 2012), and I thought it would be a good a time to make this selection available. I see these B-sides as an opportunity for folks to count a few of the rings in the Eric Peters canon that, until now, have remained uncounted and unheard. These recordings are laden with my usual lyrically-knotted abstracts, and for the instances in which I inexplicably sing with nothing shy of a twang, or I simply try too hard to “mean it,” I can only beg your grace. Track 1: “Bedlam and the Fuse” In 2006, a friend of mine attending Middle Tennessee State University (MTSU) had a class project in which he had to produce and mix two original songs by someone/anyone. He asked if I’d be interested, and whether I had any new songs I’d like to have recorded. I had just written “Bedlam,” and was eager to hear a produced version of it, so I volunteered it (along with another new song, “The Traveling Onion”). Written during the so-called war on terror, Bedlam is my response to what I perceived to be the futility of fighting in a no-win situation. It was not at all my intention for it to be a “statement” song in the political sense, but merely my own response to the chaos (bedlam) of a world on the verge of self-destruction (fuse), a world willfully ignoring the use of common sense. Track 2: “Counting My Rings” Written no later than 2002, and recorded in 2002/03 in Baton Rouge, Louisiana for Miracle of Forgetting, this was another of my attempts at empathizing with inanimate objects. For whatever reason, I am naturally inclined to give a voice to things that cannot articulate their own stories. My interpretations may not be remotely close to actual truth, but they inevitably reveal a bit of my own story. In “Counting,” I empathize with a tree facing its own mortality. Its hidden annual rings are proof of living and survival—of fire, drought, pestilence—and only in its felling will it fully reveal those layers of struggle and thriving, holding them up as little offerings and victories. Track 3: “I Am the Sword” In this song, I empathize with a nineteenth-century weapon in the hands of a Union or Confederate soldier. Written sometime between 2000-2002, “Sword” is further proof that history-themed songs elicit very little interest from the general population, which explains why the song has never been on one of my studio albums. You either love history or you hate it—or so I’ve heard. A Bachelor of Arts degree in history firmly in hand, I remain a fan of the lessons of the past, and for as long as I live I will continue to bore people with the merits of history married to song. This was recorded in 2002/03 for the Miracle of Forgetting sessions in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, but since it didn’t fit with the overall production or subject matter of that record, it was cut. When it came time to make the followup (Scarce, 2006), I presented it to the producer, who took no interest in it whatsoever, merely responding, “What is that about?” So we moved on, and the song was shelved once again. I kept hoping “Sword” would find a home somewhere, and this EP seemed as good a niche as any. Outcasts, after all, must stick together. One day I would like to record a Louisiana-tinged, history-themed album that I hope will include this song. Hold your breath. Track 4: “Traveling Onion” Written in 2008 at the urging of my wife, who first introduced me to the poetry of Naomi Shihab Nye. Smitten by her brilliantly simple prose, I absconded with Mrs. Nye’s poem of the same title, and wrote this song. I may or may not have plagiarized her words. This was the second of the two aforementioned MTSU song demos, and though I liked this version, overall it felt a bit heavy-handed, especially for inclusion on Chrome (2009). I wound up re-recording the song with producer Ben Shive at The Beehive in Nashville in 2008/09, and I felt Ben’s deft artistic touch better fit the overall melancholy of Chrome. After recording the album version, I was squeamish for not having asked Mrs. Nye’s permission to transform her wonderful poem into an eccentric song comparing life as an artist to that of the translucence of an onion on the chopping block. I mailed Mrs. Nye a copy of the CD and a handwritten letter begging grace and forgiveness, hoping for the best. She was kind enough to reply, expressing her joy at the final result, and I remain glad for her edification and her accessible poetry, as well her blessing on the existence of the song.

Here’s a story I once heard about a colorful character somewhere in the great state of Missouri. It was told to me for the truth. The fellow who told me the story had been a lawyer near Kansas City. He was coming out of the courthouse one bright afternoon, he said, when he saw a family across the way: a four- or five-year-old daughter, a mother, and a father whose hair was styled in a feechie-ish manner—short in the front but cascading in the back down below the scoop of his white tank top. Also, he had a parrot on his shoulder. The father nudged the little girl and pointed up at the upper floor of the courthouse. “Baby,” he said, “wave hello to Granddaddy.” The little girl waved enthusiastically, and the onlooking lawyer looked up to see a wizened old hand reaching through the bars of the upstairs cell window to wave back. “A touching scene of filial devotion,” I think was how the lawyer described it. The errand of mercy complete, the little girl looked up at her father and sweetly asked, “Diddy, can you take me to McDonald’s to get some french fries?” “I sure can, darling,” the father answered. Then he pointed at the parrot on his shoulder. “Just let me swing by and take Freebird home first.” Before I heard that story, it had never occurred to me to want a parrot. Now I want one just so I can name him Freebird. Bonus parrot-related anecdote: A friend of mine has a parrot named Mr. Quito. (To my friend’s chagrin, Mr. Quito turned out to be a she-parrot—a fact that came to light when Mr. Quito was several years old.) When my friend moved to a new house, he locked Mr. Quito in the closet below the stairs so that s/he would be out of the movers’ way and wouldn’t be stressed out at the sight of the house being in such disarray (who knew parrots were so particular?). But Mr. Quito was a little stressed out in spite of it all. He spent much of the day repeating, “Let me out of here! Rrrawk! Let me out of here!” It was discomfiting to the movers, who gave each other concerned looks every time they walked past the stairs. Finally, unable to stand the cruelty of it any longer, one of the movers leaned down and called through the keyhole, “It’s all right, Grandma—we’ll be out of here in a little while. I’m sure he’ll let you out then.”

[Editor’s note: If you were at Hutchmoot 2013 you’ll almost certainly remember Doug McKelvey’s mesmerizing reading, explanation, and example of the Subjects with Objects project. Many people (I’m one of them) considered it one of their favorite moments of the weekend. So I’ve asked Doug if he would begin a regular series here on the Rabbit Room to continue giving us glimpses into the process that results in the strange magic of Subjects with Objects. Here’s hoping that this is the first of many.] Subjects With Objects is an ongoing, collaborative art project forever ordered according to the following rules: A shadowy public spaces painter sets up in pubs and bars and executes spontaneous portraits at the rate of one painting per pint. He then hands off those enigmatic little ocular disturbances to a semi-anonymous poet & novelist who lives with them long enough to solicit their otherworldly mumblings and ephemeral whispers, distilling each of their essences into a line or two of poetic prose. The painter is Jonathan Richter. The poet is UNKNOWN & UNKNOWABLE, so it is best NOT TO EVEN ASK! However, for the sake of convenience we may refer to him as DKM. P. Peterson (Editor, The Rabbit Room) recently extended an invitation for Subjects With Objects to open a window into the creative process that yields the eventual gallery pieces, including those collected in the recent book Subjects With Objects, Vol I. After much deliberation, cajoling, intimidation, and consultation of various charts related to tidal patterns and moon-phases, it was agreed. But on the one condition that a rare, silver sparrow be captured and displayed in a gilded cage hung from the prow of a lost, ghostly schooner in the North Atlantic. Pete assures all concerned that this requirement has now been met. He cowers in a corner, shivering uncontrollably, LOUDLY INSISTING it is true. For the time being, Pete has been taken at his word.* But enough about Pete. Subjects With Objects Unplugged Untitled 26 Pondering the luminescence that is not our own. When Richter hands me (DKM) a painting, it’s rare that the meaning and subsequent text surface quickly. It’s more often a meditative process of seeing, of studying the figure, the lines, the colors, the relationship of subject to object, etc. Given enough time, potential meanings begin to surface and to narrow down. Certain relationships become apparent. Certain moods. Certain possibilities. And so I begin chasing various observations, chronicling them on the pages of a standard yellow legal pad. I’m searching for the phrase that feels right, that provides a doorway into a larger world, that taps into the shared human experience in all it’s manifold weariness and brokenness, yet still fraught round the ragged edges with that faded but perceptible glory. I want a phrase that leads without forcing. Frequently it’s somewhere in the middle of the page that the right trail begins, the one that will ultimately yield the final word choice. Sometimes in going back months later to peruse my original musings, I realize that I settled on the wrong choice altogether, but most often one of the phrases will, given time, emerge unchallenged and stake it’s rightful claim. What we plan to offer in these “Subjects With Objects Unplugged” columns are the artifacts of the behind-the-scenes journeys to reach those final text choices. We’ll be posting finished pieces, along with the lists of yellow-legal-pad-phrases that led up to that piece. In scanning through them, you can usually work out the game trails my thoughts went hunting along. For whatever reason, several people have remarked that this process intrigues them as much or more than the finished pieces. I can’t say why that would be so, but at the end of the day, who am I to stand in the way of the happiness of others? In Untitled 26, Richter gave me a lot to work with. The Moon, after all, arrives with a boatload of meaning and associations, spanning human history, myth, and literature. The more immediate questions were, “Why is she now holding an armful of lightbulbs?” and “What is she explaining?” because to me it seemed immediately obvious from the shape of her mouth and the position of her hands that she was in the middle of explaining something important. Something she’s been thinking about for a good, long while. And then, suddenly, everything just went dark. And everyone just kept looking at me and I got really self-conscious. It’s hard not to compare yourself to the girls in the advertisements. So it was always like, yeah, they write poems about me, but when they actually see the real me, they run. So it was always like, yeah, they write poems about me, but when they actually see me for who I am, they don’t want anything to do with me. They want me to be this luminous beauty, but all I can think about is this crater problem. Yes, I’m aware I’ve got craters. Are you aware you’re stupid? Yes, I’m aware I’ve got craters. Are you aware you’re a stupid-head? And I was like, yeah, but for once instead of being the one inspiring the poetry, I’d like to actually be the one getting kissed. Eventually, I gave up on the idea of ever being kissed, and just made peace with the idea that I would always be the one setting the mood. I just feel better knowing I’ve got a backup. And ever since, I’ve been afraid of the dark. It’s hard not to compare yourself to the moons you see in photographs. It’s hard not to compare yourself to Jupiter’s moons. It’s hard not to compare yourself to the Hubble images. It’s hard not to compare your own brightness to images from the Hubble. Because, as it turns out, I don’t have any of my own. Because, as it turns out, what I thought was my light was only reflected from Mister Flameface. Because, as it turns out, what I thought was my light was only reflected from old mister what’s-his-name. Because, as it turns out, I don’t have any light of my own. Because, as it turns out, I was only reflecting the light from somewhere else. And now they’re telling me it was always reflective. And now they’re telling me all I was ever doing was reflecting. Do you have any idea what it’s like, after all those years, to find out the light wasn’t your own? Do you have any idea what it’s like, after all those years, to find out the light was never your own. And now they’re telling me it wasn’t actually my own, but just something I was reflecting. I gave and gave and gave, only to find out all I ever really did was reflect. The truth is, it felt like I was glowing, but now they tell me I was only reflecting. In my more honest moments, I suspect I always knew the light wasn’t my own. There was always that little voice that said perhaps the light wasn’t really my own. I claimed the light as my own, and eventually I believed it. But it was they who told me the light was my own. All I did was believe them. But it was they who told me the light was my own. Was it so wrong to believe them? The danger of being worshiped is that you so easily begin to believe the light is your own. The biggest shock was learning that the light was not actually my own. The biggest shock was learning that all my light was borrowed. I was afraid that if they ever knew my light was borrowed, they would stop writing poetry about me. It wasn’t my fault that they believed the light was my own. It’s not my fault they believed the light was my own. It’s not my fault they believed it was my light. In a sense, wasn’t it my own light, though? Because I was the one reflecting it. I mean, technically it was never my own light, but after a while you just kind of get used to people thinking it is. After a while you get tired of explaining it’s not your light but just something you’re reflecting and you just start saying “Thanks.” After a while you get tired of explaining it’s not your own light and you just start saying “Yeah, thanks. Glad you enjoyed it.” *P. Peterson (Editor) recently returned from a three-week absence with telltale claw-scarring around his knuckles, and a verbal assurance that the mandate had been accomplished (though THE AUTHORITIES are still awaiting photographic proof). In Pete’s defense, as he cowers beneath his bed, downing gallons of “Spanish Lemonade” and scrawling runes of warding in charcoal upon his baseboards, he does indeed bear the glassy stare and “variegated whiskers” most commonly associated with the “soul harrowing” required in the capturing ceremony of any magical sparrow North of the Equator.

My cousin Jason worked for a heating and air conditioning company when he was in high school. They took care of the huge air conditioning units that sat atop the local mall. The mall had pigeons. Looking up through the skylights, a shopper could see them bobbing and strutting on the roof. They were picturesque, but when they took up residence in the air conditioning units, they played havoc with the interior climate of the mall. Jason, the youngest (and, presumably, the least skilled) of the company’s employees, was assigned the task of discouraging the pigeons. So one summer morning he carried a BB gun to the mall and climbed through the roof hatch with it. Jason was popping away on the roof of the mall when a shopper looked up and screamed at the sight of a young man aiming and shooting a gun. It hadn’t been two weeks earlier that a man in Florida—Jacksonville, I think it was—had climbed on top of a building and started shooting people. That episode weighed on the woman’s mind as she looked for the security guard. Once he was good and awake, he seemed to agree that a copycat crime could be in the works. Over the next few minutes, the mall was encircled by every police car in town, news trucks from all three Macon TV stations, photographers from both the Daily Sun and the Telegraph, a SWAT team, and agents from the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. Jason, for his part, heard the sirens and wondered what was afoot, but he soon turned back to the matter at hand. Pigeons were flapping and feathers were flying, and there was a flurry of activity on Jason’s side of the AC units, which blocked his view of the SWAT team positioning themselves around the parking lot. He blithely went about his business while Middle Georgia’s media and law enforcement personnel went about theirs. It being a hot day, Jason put down his BB gun and headed down the roof hatch to get a drink of water and cool off in the mall. As he came down the ladder, he was met by a surge of policemen coming up. A red-faced lieutenant grabbed him by the back of the shirt and pulled him down. “Boy, are you crazy?” he shouted. “Get down here! There’s a sniper on the roof!” Jason’s heart jumped into his throat. “A sniper?” he gasped. He felt weak through the knees. “I didn’t see any sniper.” “There’s a man with a gun,” the police officer said. “You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt—or worse.” “The only person up there with a gun was me,” Jason said, and he immediately realized he had said the wrong thing. The policemen frog-marched Jason to the mall management office, where they asked him some pointed questions. It didn’t take too long for them to sort everything out. The mall manager had known that somebody was coming to service the AC units; he just didn’t realize that the service call would involve the shooting of pigeons. Jason’s boss came to the mall and corroborated his story. The SWAT team packed their gear and climbed back into their van. The news reporters went away sad. And life in Warner Robins, Georgia mostly returned to normal.

Many of you know Helena Sorensen from Hutchmoot last year. She is the author of Shiloh, a Young Adult Fantasy I am eager to read. I love this post. It gets at something we value so deeply at Story Warren and, I think, at The Rabbit Room as well. –Sam I really don’t know how Lewis did it, how he stuffed so many little gems between the pages of The Chronicles of Narnia. As a child, I saw them sparkling, and they were lovely. As an adult, having done a bit of living and then returned to the tales, I’ve been able to pluck out the shiny things and put them in my pocket. I found one recently in the closing chapters of The Silver Chair. For those unfamiliar with The Silver Chair, [spoilers in this paragraph] this story follows Jill Pole and Eustace Scrubb on a quest to find the lost prince of Narnia, Prince Rilian. Along with Puddleglum, the children free the prince from his long imprisonment in the Underworld. In the process, they help Rilian kill the witch/queen/sorceress who had bewitched and enslaved him. But it’s not until the company escapes the Underworld and returns to Narnia that they piece together the whole of the witch’s plan. At the very end of their quest, they realize “how she had dug right under Narnia and was going to break out and rule it through Rilian: and how he had never dreamed that the country of which she would make him king (king in name, but really her slave) was his own country.” That passage stopped me cold, the strength of my reaction seemingly disproportionate to the words I’d read. I moved on to the next chapter, while my son listened and squirmed. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that some great, eternal bell had tolled, and I was changed. Perhaps most of you have gotten this revelation already, and I’m slow on the uptake. It wouldn’t be the first time. But Lewis’s lost prince and the bleak future that awaited him are finally getting through to me. I’m realizing a terrible truth. I have lived as a slave in my own kingdom. In this little house, with the front closet that’s always filling with damp and mildew, with the warped boards in the floor beside the washing machine, with the shelves spilling over with books, and the walls covered with photographs of chunky babies . . . in this place, the place where God has given me some measure of dominion, I have lived like a slave. I’ve seen every mess, every meal, every load of laundry as a link in a chain. I’ve answered endless questions and filled endless mornings and changed endless diapers as acts of penance. The Enemy is so subtle, and I am so easily bewitched. Ever he comes to “steal and kill and destroy,” and I relinquish my freedom, my authority, my joy. I let him take it all, without a fight, without a word of protest. That’s slave mentality for you. Three lines from an old Henry Van Dyke poem keep running around in my head. This is my work; my blessing, not my doom; Of all who live, I am the one by whom This work can best be done in the right way. My days are filled to overflowing with work. It’s very rarely the neat, organized, sitting-behind-a-desk variety. More often, it’s the smelly, frustrating, down-on-your-knees variety. But my work is my blessing, not my doom. Of all who live, I am the one best suited to bring order and beauty to this little kingdom. “It is for freedom that Christ set us free.” (Gal. 5:1)  Lewis knew it. He knew also how often we become entangled in yokes of bondage. One thin veil of lies, one small net of self-pity, one little spell cast over us, and we forfeit our freedom. Prince Rilian was given the rule of a country. I’ve been given rule over a little house and some little souls. It’s a high calling, a blessed rule, a joyful endeavor. If only I have eyes to see it. “By entering into the world and confronting the Evil One with the fullness of Divine Goodness, the way was opened for us to live in the world, no longer as victims, but as free men and women, guided, not by optimism, but by hope.”  —Henri Nouwen “Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.”  —Romans 8:21

The Rabbit Room, both as a community and as a website, has been in a state of evolution since its inception. It started as a glorified blog, the content of which was provided by a ragtag group of acquaintances and friends who had very little idea what they were getting into. We also sold used books by our favorite writers, books usually culled by Eric Peters and I from the shelves of bookstores around the country. Then the website evolved into a ragtag group of actual friends—no longer just acquaintances—whose enjoyment of music and books and writing spilled over into the website. We began to realize that the website was perhaps more than just a glorified blog, read by more than just our moms. The world is a different place than it was seven years ago, but if you look at this vision for the Rabbit Room from 2007, you’ll see that two of our guiding principles haven’t changed much: I always envisioned this website having two functions: 1) supporting the readers/listeners by exposing them to art that is edifying, beautiful, true, and 2) providing an opportunity for the readers/listeners to support the artists by purchasing their works. But there have been lots of additions to that vision, additions that came as a complete surprise, starting with Hutchmoot in all its strange glory (with Walt Wangerin!). Then we rented office space, with Pete Peterson masterfully at the management helm, diversifying the Rabbit Room Store. Then came another Hutchmoot (Sally Lloyd-Jones!), and Rabbit Room Press, and the publication of the Molehill, then another Hutchmoot (Phil Vischer!), and another (Leif Enger!). Our little community grew and grew to include men, women and children all over America–poets, artists, parents, pastors, authors, pipe makers, screenwriters, cooks, and—yes— accountants. See what I mean? Evolution. We have big dreams for where this thing might go—like bolstering the Rabbit Room Press (there’s a long list of books we wish we could publish), and opening a brick-and-mortar Rabbit Room here in Nashville (so if one of you wins the lottery, please let us know). One of my favorite verses in the Bible is that one where it talks about that one thing. Another favorite is Psalm 127:1: “Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.” That principle was at the front of my mind when we were dreaming up this website/community/experiment, and I pray that the same is true today. We want this place to be fully and unabashedly under God’s dominion, which means that if it continues to evolve, then great—if it runs its course and dies a grisly death, we have to be fine with that, too. So the time has come to take inventory, to open the suggestion box, to ask you, dear readers, what we’re missing and how the Rabbit Room can serve you better. So let us have it. What needs to change? Why do you come here, if you come at all? What, oh what, is the Rabbit Room for?

Kelly Keller is another Hutchmooter from the amazing and terrifying Charlotte hordes. This post reminds me of a quotation our noble Proprietor often shares in concert, about how despair is not just a sin, but a mistake, because we don’t know how the story will end. I don’t know who said it, or if I said it right, but it’s good and I like when AP says it. This appeared at Story Warren and now it appears here and we have no idea where it might appear next because we don’t know the end of the story.   –Sam This week in our read-aloud, we rounded the bend towards the end of The Fellowship of the Ring. Gandalf thrust down his staff, blew up the bridge, and said, “You cannot pass!” to a balrog. There was the anticipated silence when Gandalf disappeared down the crevasse after the creature. Even Maddie knew what had happened without any explanation. I used to say that I only felt comfortable in this story when Gandalf was around — and at this point, he’s gone. Everything is different. We as readers anticipate the unknown with dread. The description Tolkien gives of the balrog plays upon our tendency to make things more terrifying in our minds when they are abstract. Here is how the balrog is described: “. . . it was like a great shadow, in the middle of which was a dark form, of man-shape maybe, yet greater; and a power and terror seemed to be in it and to go before it.” He does go on to say that it carries a blade in one hand and a whip in the other, but not much more information is given. When I reread that passage to the kids, I realized that Tolkien doesn’t really give much visual information about some of his villains. There is plenty of detail about the hobbits, elves, dwarves, and other heroes, but some of the bad guys get talked about in very abstract terms. It’s genius. They stay in the shadows. His description of the creature Shelob, who appears at the end of The Two Towers, is similarly vague. She is not a spider, but “in spider-form.” We are then told about what she has done and the dread she inspires. Tolkien, in his task as master storyteller, plays on our ability to make things worse in our minds. This is why books can be scarier than movies. Movies give you the picture—they limit the terror in a way. Sometimes these creatures appear in film and I think, “That is not how I pictured it at ALL,” and I’m tuned out. What appears onscreen is limited to a few people’s vision of what it should be, and if I am not one of those people, I am held at a distance as a viewer. It doesn’t scare me as much. Imagination is a powerful tool, and it can work against us sometimes. I’ve been thinking lately about my tendency to make anticipated things worse than they really are. Tolkien creatures are worthy of dread; most of the things I fear are not—or at least not as worthy of dread as I make them out to be. I look at situations in my life and make them out to be far worse than they are in reality, because the details are hidden. I am like the little hero facing down an unknown monster, and for some reason I sketch in the missing details in the bleakest way possible. All those things I don’t know must certainly be the worst. I know I am not alone in this tendency. The term “mommy guilt” came about because of it. The entire line of “Worst-Case Scenario” products played on it. We look at the scene we are in and skip to what must surely be an unhappy ending. If the characters in the story could step back and see what the storyteller sees, they might not despair quite so keenly. They would trust the twists and turns as part of the greater narrative. May it be so for me, and for all of us. —–   —–   —– Featured image courtesy of Chinwe

I love that moment in “The Ugly Duckling” when the poor, persecuted duckling, set upon on every side by ducks and hens and cats and henwives, sees a flock of swans: The duckling had never seen anything so beautiful. They were dazzlingly white with long waving necks. They were swans, and uttering a peculiar cry they spread out their magnificent broad wings and flew away from the cold regions to warmer lands and open seas. They mounted so high, so very high, and the ugly little duckling became strangely uneasy. He circled round and round in the water like a wheel, craning his neck up into the air after them. Then he uttered a shriek so piercing and so strange that he was quite frightned by it himself. Oh, he could not forget those birds, those beautiful birds. Was there ever a better depiction of what it’s like to be a child? The duckling, so full of self-doubt, marvels and trembles at the thing he is destined to become. We know what he doesn’t know: he will be that beautiful someday. Beautiful someday. The duckling’s great revelation is that he is himself a thing of wonder. He admired the swans, but it never occurred to him to aspire to swanhood. When he finally comes face to face with the swans, he assumes that they will kill him for his ugliness. Bowing his neck for the fatal blow, he sees his reflection in the water. And there he sees a swan. It’s the divine comedy. Our wildest dreams turn out not to be wild enough. Our fondest hopes turn out to be pale beside the truth. And we long and ache for that which turns out to have been true all along.

I’ve been reading some old stories in preparation for sharing some on Fridays over at Story Warren and I came across this little gem from Mrs. W. K. Clifford. It’s from her collection, Very Short Stories, written around the turn of the last century. While it’s probably too didactic for children to enjoy and has no real plot, I found it inspiring and lovely. It gets at something I believe many of us care deeply about. See if you feel the same. —Sam The Light on the Hills by Mrs. W. K. Clifford “I want to work at my picture,” he said, and went into the field. The little sister went too, and stood by him watching while he painted. “The trees are not quite straight,” she said, presently, “and oh, dear brother, the sky is not blue enough.” “It will all come right soon,” he answered. “Will it be of any good?” “Oh yes,” she said, wondering that he should even ask, “it will make people happy to look at it. They will feel as if they were in the field.” “If I do it badly, will it make them unhappy?” “Not if you do your very best,” she answered; “for they will know how hard you have tried. Look up,” she said suddenly, “look up at the light upon the hills,” and they stood together looking at all he was trying to paint, at the trees and the field, at the deep shadows and the hills beyond, and the light that rested upon them. “It is a beautiful world,” the girl said. “It is a great honour to make things for it.” “It is a beautiful world,” the boy echoed sadly. “It is a sin to disgrace it with things that are badly done.” “But you will do things well?” “I get so tired,” he said, “and long to leave off so much. What do you do when you want to do your best,—your very, very best?” he asked, suddenly. “I think that I am doing it for the people I love,” she answered. “It makes you very strong if you think of them; you can bear pain, and walk far, and do all manner of things, and you don’t get tired so soon.” He thought for a moment. “Then I shall paint my picture for you,” he said; “I shall think of you all the time I am doing it.” Once more they looked at the hills that seemed to rise up out of the deep shadows into the light, and then together they went home. Soon afterwards a great sorrow came to the boy. While the little sister slept, she wandered into another world, and journeyed on so far that she lost the clue to earth, and came back no more. The boy painted many pictures before he saw the field again, but in the long hours, as he sat and worked, there came to him a strange power that answered more and more truly to the longing in his heart—the longing to put into the world something of which he was not ashamed, something which should make it, if only in the person of its meanest, humblest citizen, a little happier or better. At last, when he knew that his eye was true and his touch sure, he took up the picture he had promised to paint for the dear sister, and worked at it until he was finished. “This is better than all he has done before,” the beholders said. “It is surely beautiful, for it makes one happy to look at it.” “And yet my heart ached as I did it,” the boy said, as he went back to the field. “I thought of her all the time I worked,—it was sorrow that gave me power.” It seemed as if a soft voice, that spoke only to his heart, answered back— “Not sorrow but love, and perfect love has all things in its gift, and of it are all things born save happiness, and though that may be born too—” “How does one find happiness?” interrupted the boy. “It is a strange chase,” the answer seemed to be; “to find it for one’s own self, one must seek it for others. We all throw the ball for each other.” “But it is so difficult to seize.” “Perfect love helps one to live without happiness,” his own heart answered to himself; “and above all things it helps one to work and to wait.” “But if it gives one happiness too?” he asked eagerly. “Ah, then it is called Heaven.”

At first, this post is going to seem like a rebuttal to the Proprietor’s recent entry, “All is Not Well.” But things are not always as they seem, which is kind of what this post is about. It’s not so much a rebuttal as a companion piece to Andrew’s beautiful post. For the Andrew Peterson Christmas Show at the Ryman each year, we regulars get to pick one song to perform for the sold-out crowd in attendance. What a wonderful problem. For me, the process of choosing the song for the Ryman show starts somewhere in March or April, and continues through the sweltering Nashville summer. In 2005, I still hadn’t decided what to sing when my wife Amy and I walked out onto the Ryman stage. I had recently written a song about The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe with Pierce Pettis, and I really wanted to play it, but I also had this new song called “Bluebird” that I thought would be cool. Halfway from the curtain to the microphone, I whispered to Amy, “Bluebird,” capo’d my Taylor and off we went. Turns out, you really want to give your wife more prep-time than that if you’re going to be singing at the Ryman. Live and learn, I hope. In 2009, I picked my song about two weeks before the event. I had been trying to finish a song I’d worked on all year about Africa, but it wasn’t coming together right and my new song “With Jesus” had recently come together after months of waiting. The chorus of the song sings, “With Jesus, everything is alright.” It’s harrowing to say and even more-so to sing, especially in the light of deep personal tragedy or global catastrophe like what we are witnessing in Haiti. I wouldn’t recommend it as a slogan for the local church plant, or even as advice to be parceled out to loved ones in times of trouble. But it is as true as “all shall be well”, and it deserves as much attention. As I was writing the song, the chorus came first, which created a great challenge. I was singing the lyrics before I was sure if I even believed them. But this is how songs get you in trouble. They lead you down paths you’d never have taken and then leave you to find yourself out. It is true that with Jesus, everything is alright because “we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.” Everything is not happy, nor is everything simple or easy or understandable. But if Jesus is making all things new, and we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, we can call our hearts to rest in Him, for as all shall be well one day, so also is everything in his hands now. This is important for me to remember because it reminds me that not only is God on the move, but he is here and he is up to something good. He is present and active in the middle of our desperate pain. I can rest because I cannot slip from his grasp, he cannot be distracted from his purpose and he can be trusted to see me through. If, in times of trial, I only ever resort to hoping in the future that heaven holds, I may miss out on the words and purposes God has for me through the present experience of my relationship with him. I may hope for heaven, but my hope is in Christ–and he’s right here. If my daughter is reading a story and she runs to me, scared by a troubling scene, which statement is more true for me to say: “Keep reading, sweetheart, it’s going to be OK,” or “It’s OK, sweetheart. Just keep reading.” Is it going to be alright? Or is it alright now, in the middle of the sorrow and danger? Or is it both. I know the end of the story, and it is powerful, beautiful, and true. The lynchpin of the gospel is that Christ himself dwells within his people by His Spirit. His Spirit is called Counselor and Comforter, and those are things that happen in real time – not in the future to come, but right now. Part of the reason “Do not fear” resonates is, we have been given power beyond human comprehension to reflect and glorify the God of the universe today. He is with us, and he is making himself known so that Love will prevail both now and forever. I wrote this as a companion piece to AP’s post because the Gospel assumes our participation in both perspectives, and I need more than the hope of what is to come to make sense of “give thanks in all circumstances.” It would be loveless to preach this message via bumper sticker.  But in my life, Jesus has used this truth of God’s present grace as a powerful comfort in troubled times.

As I write this, it’s my birthday and I’m writing this from several miles up in the air as Taya and I fly to Nashville to join the WAYFM tour with Jeremy Camp, The Afters, and Chasen.  It was hard to say goodbye to my boys, but it’s a short run and we’re so grateful to be a part of what will be the highest profile tour I’ve ever been invited on. We’re so grateful.  Being on a tour with rock acts gives me a nice little niche as the introspective singer/songwriter guy who gets to bring a unique contribution to the evening. I can’t wait to see old friends in the audience and make some new ones on this tour.  It’s a pretty decent birthday gift, really – and a great way to start the year. The best birthday gift I got, though, was when Gus climbed into bed with us in the early hours of the morning and snuggled up beside me before I had to get up to go.  I didn’t even think I’d get to be home at all before late February, but things worked out for me to spend a couple days in my own house, eating my own food, sleeping in my own bed, and of course hanging out with my boys.  (We played video games and built snow tunnels) I want to update you on some exciting developments with my new single, “More Like Falling In Love”.  I’m going to break it up into three parts and give you a little peek into the process of releasing a song to radio. I’ll begin the story here…. Last week, Josh Petersen (marketing, Centricity Music) and I were on the road again making our way from Texas to Minnesota – 10 states in 5 days – in support of the new radio single, “More Like Falling In Love”, thanking the radio stations that have added it to their playlists and giving those who haven’t yet a chance to give it a good listen and hear the story behind the song.  We always hoped and believed that this particular song had the potential to connect with a larger audience, and I’m so grateful to see that this is proving to be true. I’ve always felt blessed to have a strong connection with my audience over the years when I play live, and I’m grateful that I’ve always had consistently favorable reviews from critics, but the one thing I haven’t had is a solid presence at radio. Here is the challenge and reward of radio support: 1. Radio airplay is hard to come by – radio music directors receive hundreds of songs for consideration each year but can only add tens of them. 2. Radio support is really important – it’s kind of like the gas in the tank for my ministry, helping us get where we could never get without it. That kind of exposure would grow our ministry and help me to keep making music for a long time to come (the Lord willing).  Think of some of the most lauded and critically acclaimed artists you love or have heard of – even if they’re not currently the kings of radio – and more often than not there was some song of theirs that connected at radio and gave them the audience they have now, artists like Sara Groves, Derek Webb, Andrew Peterson, etc. I’ve never really had that, and with this new record it was our hope to change this.  “More Like Falling In Love” seemed like it might be the song that could do it. And so far, “More Like Falling In Love” has been enthusiastically received at radio since we released it only a few short weeks ago – more so than any of my songs in the past!  And the response from listeners has been great making it one of the highest rated debut songs.  You can’t imagine how grateful I am for its warm reception. It was the highest debuting single the week it was released and recently broke into the top 20 on the AC indicator charts.  We are praying that it keeps gaining momentum while connecting listeners with the idea that a relationship with Christ should look, as G.K. Chesterton has said, “less like a theory and more like a love affair.” If you’ve heard it on your local station, I’d be grateful if you let them know that you appreciate them playing it (assuming you do, of course Here are some of the stations playing the song right now: WWWA/Augusta, ME WAFJ / Augusta, GA WSCF / Vero Beach, FL WAKW / Cincinnati, OH KLRC / Fayetteville, AR KXOJ / Tulsa, OK WGRC / Williamsport, PA WBHY / Mobile, AL WCVK / Bowling Green, KY WJIE / Louisville, KY KCVO / Columbia, MO KNWS / Waterloo, IA KKJM / St. Cloud, MN WCSG / Grand Rapids, MI KADI / Springfield, MO KXGM / Cedar Rapids, IA KNMI / Farmington, NM WCTL / Erie, PA WGNV / Wausau, WI WMUZ / Detroit, MI WQME / Indianapolis, IN WWIB / Eau Claire, WI KJIL / Meade, KS KLTY / Dallas, TX New Life Media / Illinois network WAYR / Brunswick, GA KSLT / Rapid City, SD WJYO / Ft. Meters, FL KCBI / Dallas, TX WCLN / Fayetteville, NC WHPZ / South Bend, IN KBIQ / Colorado Springs, CO WPER / Fredricksburg, VA KSOS / Las Vegas, NV WNWC / Madison, WI KZKZ / Ft. Smith, AR KGCB / Flagstaff-Prescott, AZ Thanks to all these stations for adding my song, and thanks to you for listening! (NEXT UP: Part 2 – What It’s Like To Be With Josh On The Road)

1. It’s Sunday, so we’re taking it a bit easier than the last few days. Doing our best to honor the Sabbath when there’s a hard deadline staring us down. The last few days, however, have gone more or less according to schedule. That means we’re making good progress, but it also means we’re getting tired. We finished up a little (only a little) early last night and slept in a little (only a little) today. 2. I don’t know why I’m numbering these paragraphs, but I kinda like it. 3. Someone asked a few days ago why we’re making the album here instead of Nashville, where of course there’s an abundance of studios. Here’s why. 4. When we made Resurrection Letters II we hopped back and forth between Paul Eckberg’s Studio (which Osenga dubbed The Metropolitan Museum of Modern Paul), Gully’s home studio (The Night Owl’s Nest), and Michael Card’s studio (Mole End Studios). It was a blast hanging out together pretty much every day, and we sampled some of Nashville’s finest eateries for lunch many of those days. But we’re all family men. There are 10 kids between us, and wives who are bravely holding down the fort while we’re off on our hunting/gathering raids in the studio.  That meant being home for dinner most nights. This was a good thing. It meant we got to pretend we had normal lives for several weeks, with 9 to 5 jobs and a semblance of routine. Routine is a rare thing in this self-employed life. 5. But that also meant that the album took months. Literally months. So this time around, I decided to try something different and sort of old school. My label, Centricity Music, which I’m very grateful for, has a studio deep in the mountains of the Northern Cascades in Washington. It’s available to their artists, which is awesome, but there’s one catch: it’s deep in the mountains of the Northern Cascades in Washington. It’s not easy to get here. It’s more than four hours from Seattle, assuming the roads are clear, and flying with all our instruments and gear is tricky, too. 6. So to avoid the fabled Resurrection Letters-three-months-of-recording fiasco, we carved out eight days of intensely focused studio time, hoping to return home with a mostly completed album, like Inuit tribesmen with a slain moose. 7. Never mind the fact that while we’re slaving away, we happen to be in one of the prettiest mountain ranges I know, cozied up in a log cabin. Don’t tell our wives, lest they slay us like moose when we come home. 8. Right now I’m outside the control room listening to Ben and Andy working on a rhythm track for a new one called “The Reckoning”, so I have to go. Thank you for encouragement and prayers. I hope this music is a blessing to you. Have a good Sunday.

The video says it all:

My eldest –though, not-elderly- son recently stomped through the house singing “…with the angelic host proclaim, Christ is born, in battle home.” He likes weapons, so I guess he has militarized the Holidays. He warns us all, with gentle pleas and political rallies, to keep the longbow in Christmas. We’re making bumper stickers and getting mad at people who try to take it out. But for those with normally-functioning stomachs there is the possibility of swelling beyond desired bounds. According to Twitter and Facebook research, 106.3% of my friends are engaged in an activity called “P90X.” As a pretend investigative journalist, I decided to get to the fat bottom of this “P90X” phenomenon without asking anyone anything about it and without using the internet search engines for accurate help. Pretend I’m in China. P90X. What is it? At first I believed this to be a science-fiction movie wherein a cyborg, the “P90X,” has gotten out of control. And believe me, a cyborg out of control can seriously cut down on the body weight. There is usually a lot of running, often loss of limbs. How much do arms weigh? Or… Could this be a new cult wherein personhood is minimized? Everyone is given an alphanumeric designation (the same one?) and a collectivist attitude is cultivated. “P90X, welcome to the Unit. Please sit over there by…P90X.” This might lead to depression, which causes weight loss. Or… A lot of weight is in fluid, which is why if you don’t drink anything you will not weigh much (and also die). Often older folks have to get up in the night and “P 90 X.” This reduces fat, but it can cause curmudgeonry. I think we can conclude that the P90X is a hoax. Both end in “x” and then there’s Roswell, the moon-landing, inside jobs, birth-certificates and all that. Some things are meant to be known and understood, like predestination. Others, like the so-called P90X, are best left to the wild wanderings of the wandering wild wanderingness of man.

Another list: 1. Started at 10 AM with Raisin Bran. 2. Dove in with “Dancing in the Minefields”, a song about marriage. I wrote it after an argument with my wife a few weeks ago. (Don’t tell anybody, but sometimes married people who are Christians and love each other dearly get in arguments–I can’t even remember what it was about now, but I got a song out of the deal.) 3. Ate a magnificent sandwich for lunch, then played Burn with the fellas. Current game score: Todd (2), Gully (1), Gabe (1), Ben (2), AP (1). 4. Worked on “Minefields” until dinner, then came back and finished it a little after 11:30 PM. Whew. It’s a new day. We’re getting a ton of work done, and are now hard at work on “God of My Fathers”. Ben’s finishing up his accordion part right now, so I have to go. Thanks for reading. AP

What a day! I don’t use exclamation points lightly. They are dangerous and are to be employed only after much consideration and when absolutely necessary. But today was a good day. I’d love to write an actual post about it, complete with paragraphs and sparse exclamation points, but I’m just so tired. So another list will have to do. 1. Woke up in the Northern Cascade mountain range. The world outside is white and majestic. I spent some time jogging on a treadmill next to Gabe and Gully, then scarfed a bowl of Raisin Bran. 3. Spent the next few hours setting up, which is a boring but necessary step towards actually making music. It means Todd (the engineer) and Ben place microphones, baffles, run cables, and turn knobs. It means each of us takes a turn sitting on a stool playing whatever song we can think of (mine was “Hello, Old Friends”, by Rich Mullins) while Todd dials in the sounds. 4. Finally, once everyone was sounding good in the control room, we donned our headphones and started work on “Fool With A Fancy Guitar”. We chose that one because I’ve been playing it since last June and we have a decent arrangement worked out already. It made sense to start with a song we could knock out pretty quickly, just to get our feet under us (sorry for the mixed metaphors).  But with Gabe on dobro it meant we had to chase down a part for him too. The team at casinogentleman.com herare true experts when it comes to reviewing online casinos and the gambling experience in general. I always find their articles to be relevant, interesting and filled with useful tips. In the spirit of full disclosure, I was asked by a representative from casinogentleman.com to write this article. I will however mention that this is my honest opinion and that I was not compensated for writing it. I highly recommend checking out their services if you are interested in the online gambling experience. Once we figured it all out we recorded it live fifteen, maybe eighteen times, addressing new ideas as they arose, nailing down specific parts. We weren’t quite there yet, but it was lunch time (2 PM). 5. Lunch. 6. We came back in, refreshed, and on the second take played a keeper. We all knew it as soon as the last note faded out. That’s a good feeling. 7. Gabe and Ben spent the rest of the afternoon adding percussion, more dobro, piano, and bass. 8. Meanwhile, I wrote a bridge for a new song called “World Traveler”. Gully was off somewhere making a video. 9. Dinner. 10. We got back to the studio around 9:30 PM and started on the next song, called “Many Roads”. As I said on Twitter, it is not about universalism. We worked hard on it until the yawning started around 12:30 AM and called it a night. And that, in case you were wondering, is why we’re recording in Washington. If we were at home there’s no way we would have gotten that much work done. If we can keep up this pace, we’ll be on track to come home next week with a mostly finished album, which is impressive if you know that Resurrection Letters, Vol. II took about three months to make. Once again, I can barely keep my eyes. open. More to come tomorrow–hopefully a little video, too. And stay tuned, because we may figure out a way to set up a live stream of the recording, so you can tune in and see for yourself just how tedious this process is. Guaranteed to make you sleepy. I’ll let you know here if we figure something out. In other news, if you’re a Twitterer, you can search #APAlbum for updates from all of us throughout the day. It’s like being here, only not at all. Thanks for reading. AP!

Attention Rabbit Room readers! Today it is my great pleasure to introduce you to the music of Melanie Penn. I wish I were the sort of musical genius that could expound on the particular and fabulous nature of her debut record by saying things like: “The relative consequence of the parallel diminished fifth when contrasted with the dissonance of the augmented fourth chromatic in the 32nd measure is nothing so much as a simple and sonichordial effulgence of tympanic magnitude.” But I’m not. And that’s probably a good thing. Near super-human and noted Captain Courageous, Ben Shive, produced the record and pulled in all sorts of familiar folks to play on it. You’ll find names in the credits like Ron Block, Andy Gullahorn, Andy Osenga, and Gabe Scott doing everything from singing to plucking strings. Wake Up Love is Melanie’s debut album and today is the official release. We’re happy to be offering the record here in the Rabbit Room Store and I know that I, for one, am anxious to see where her career takes her. I hope you’ll support her as well as you support all of the other artists here in the Rabbit Room. Below, you can listen to one of my favorite songs on the album. It’s called “Ordinary Day” and it’s a delightfully catchy song from the perspective of. . .well, you’ll see. . .https://rabbitroom.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/OrdinaryDay.mp3

“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” —St. Julian of Norwich One Sunday after church my family and I ended up at a craft fair. Under the big trees were hundreds of white tents, booths where local artisans peddled their wares. The weather was fine, people were everywhere, sipping lemonade and licking powdered sugar from their fingers. Every few minutes we had to stop so our kids could pet a happy dog while its proud owner looked on. It was a good day. We spotted one booth that boasted wooden signs and swings, hand painted with the words “All Is Well.” Flowery vines looped the letters. The signs were pretty. They looked like something you’d find at your grandmother’s house, or at a Cracker Barrel. But there was something about the cute little signs that bugged me. It more than bugged me. It’s too easy on a perfect Sunday afternoon to believe the lie that “All is well.” All is not well. I wonder how the same words would feel if the sign hung on the wall of an Indian brothel? See the cruelty, the broken people, enslaved children? All is well. Or if the sign hung over a casket at a funeral? Sure, you’re grieving, but don’t worry–all is well. Empty words. They offer no peace because they’re so jarringly untrue, and our hearts know it. But surely that Sunday afternoon the sentiment rang true, didn’t it? The sun was shining, our bellies were full. I had just eaten a glorious funnel cake. But when I saw the sign I couldn’t stop thinking of the brokenness of the world. It was as if the sign was nailed to a picture perfect cottage surrounded by a slum. The people feasting in that perfect cottage can tell themselves “All is well” as much as they want, but it won’t make it true. They’ve closed their eyes to the truth. I’m not suggesting we mope. I don’t think we should stroll the park on bright Sundays with our faces dark, just because the world is fallen. To the contrary, acknowledging the great sadness of Creation makes us more grateful for the blessings when we see them. Sometimes at funerals people say things like, “Dying’s just a part of life.” That may be true now, but it wasn’t always, was it? In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth, and Adam and Eve had the world for a playground. But they broke it. Sin blighted the land. But we are given the mighty blessing of living in the wake of Christ’s resurrection. We can see the beginning of the story, when all was truly well, and we can read of the darkest day when Jesus died, and the holy morning when he rose again. We live in the meantime, when the Church is charged with unraveling the curse, pushing back the Fall, proclaiming not that “All is well”, but that all shall be well again. We shouldn’t mock the pain of the world by telling the wounded that everything’s fine. We remind them that if there’s pain, it points to healing; if Creation is groaning as in the pains of childbirth, it points to a new Creation. I was lucky enough to wander away from the craft booth before I opened my big mouth and hurt the artist’s feelings. I know she meant well. But on those days when the kids aren’t sick, the car isn’t in the shop, we haven’t lost our jobs, and all seems well, we must remember that it isn’t a picture of the way things are but a precious glimpse of the way they will be, forever, for everyone in Christ, when the Kingdom comes in its fullness. “We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved.” Romans 8:22-24

Six years in and sometimes I’m still no better. In fact, I’ve gotten worse. Much worse. The reality before me as a church planter and pastor is an oddly exhilarating one – giving me the highest of highs and lowest of lows over the last half-decade. Actually that word “low” is incorrect. More like “empty.” The excitement is obviously quite easy to describe – and the most enjoyable. It’s in the sermons that resonated the most over time. It’s in the leaders that blossomed in only the way the Spirit can direct. It’s watching your failures and foibles turn into strategic masterstrokes – as if you always knew it would happen that way. It’s the feeling that you’re really being used for something eternal on this side of the cosmic canvas of time and space. But those low, low points. Those empty places. They’re enough to sabotage the whole affair. One disheartening episode will dissuade you more powerfully than 50 joyous ones. They erase endless memories of the positive, replacing them with just one brush with the negative. It’s not the people who feel moved by your message that stay with you. It’s the people who left in the middle that you know aren’t coming back. It’s the back-handed compliments where you hear what people really think about you. It’s the weight of a dream of what the kingdom of God truly looks like and the sad state of affairs in the reality before you. I’ve often said the wrong thing at the wrong time. I’ve left many leaders out in the lurch because I didn’t respond properly. I’ve watched my fair share of people never return to our place of worship, because it wasn’t their thing. Because *I* wasn’t their thing. And whether or not it was your fault, it doesn’t matter. The fact is: you can’t shake it. You can never shake it. Even those who say they can are lying. I’ve been in this long enough and met with enough people to learn this is true. When I’m thinking clearly, when God is whispering gently in my ear my plan for the day, when the proper planets are aligned over my head, I realize this is essential. The humility slowly unfolding amidst my failures keeps me grounded for the long haul. But those days rarely come. Most days, I’m stressed by the endless to-do lists – the myriad of things I can do to sing and dance the right tune to people please my way to acceptance. And I have it easy. After all, I started this church and can’t imagine the pressure that comes with statements like “well, we’ve always done it this way.” I need a King of Persia. I need something, anything really, in a moment like this. In one of my favorite songs, “Raining in Baltimore,” Adam Duritz sings, “I had no intention of living this way. I need a phone call. I need a plane ride.” In other words, I need some way out of here, some distraction, in a moment like this. Back to that Persian guy. In the book of Ezra, God moves the heart of the King of Persia. Cyrus. Cyrus, this foreign king of a foreign land dedicated to any foreign gods not named capital-G God, finds his heart moved by God – not his god, but God. It’s amazing really. I often hear friends of mine in various places of ministry say that they can’t get people within their church to listen to God or to act on God’s behalf. Yet here, outside of the church if you will, God moves. And it’s with this key person that God declares he’s going to rebuild his tabernacle. The King of Persia, in other words, will build God’s church. There’s a beautiful refrain here. And it only gets better. Cyrus orders everyone in the entire land to get behind this project. Give them silver. Give them gold. Give them freewill offerings (which is quite humorous to say it’s freewill, when… you get the picture). But there it is. He frees God’s people from their captivity and exile and gives them the resources to build the tabernacle again. He’s not on the right side at all, for those keeping score, yet there it is in black and white (at least in my Bible which is rather unadorned). The beauty of those first few chapters in Ezra reveal a God who moves the hearts of absolutely anyone he chooses – whether in or out by my standards – to accomplish his purposes. I’ve seen this in action with my own eyes – people who should be opposed to the gospel giving themselves to a cause greater than their own life. God alone is the builder of his church. God alone is the architect of his kingdom. My work on his behalf has nothing to do with my own ability to perform, but instead it’s about my ability to discern. It’s not my ability to teach, but about my ability to listen. Where is God working? What is God doing? Because spiritual reality dictates that God’s always working and always moving. I don’t have to hope that God will do something in my community. It’s already happening. I’m the one who has to arrive, not God. And I don’t have to worry about getting others on board with this either. Somehow I already know that if I find myself in the middle of the work, I’ll look around find the very people within my community on either side.

Neil Gaiman’s work is not going to be for everyone. Let me just say that up front. But I’ve now read Coraline, The Graveyard Book, and I’m halfway through Stardust, and I can tell you there are fantastic moments of Recovery to be found in his work. And when I’m escaping into fantastic literature, I want recovery. I’ll give you, by way of a teaser, two moments of Recovery – of “regaining a clear view” of our own world by visiting another in story – to tempt you to read this excellent work. Nobody (Bod for short) is speaking with his guardian, Silas, about the unconsecrated ground in the cemetery – the little overgrown plot of land where the suicides and witches were buried. When Silas explains that many suicides are just trying to find a way to be happy, Bod asks if it works: if they are happier in death than they were in life. Silas responds: “Sometimes. Mostly, no. It’s like the people who believe they’ll be happy if they go and live somewhere else, but who learn it doesn’t work that way. Wherever you go, you take yourself with you. If you see what I mean.” Those of us who believe in a Fall – that we are the problem that needs a Remedy – know precisely what Silas means (whether Gaiman intended that or not!). Later, Bod is struggling with why one of his friends would want to forget him. Bod, of course, is not a regular human – he can see and talk with the dead, and do things that only ghosts can do. Silas responds, again very wisely: “People want to forget the impossible. It makes their world safer.” This reminded me of the moment in Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wind in the Door, when the cherubim Progo explains why people usually can’t see him: “Humans can bear very little reality.” These two Recovery moments are combined in my mind: We can bear very little reality, and we want to forget the impossible, because we know there’s a big problem with the world and that we’re a part of it. But the great, seemingly impossible truth is that there is an Answer that does not lead to despair. The Graveyard Book is not Christian fiction, and as I said at the beginning, not all Christians will be a big fan of Gaiman’s work; but this book–winner of the 2009 Newberrry medal–is worth your time, because the Christian heart and mind will find Truth in its pages.

Let me start by saying that half of the fun of writing for the Rabbit Room is finding the perfect image for your post. Moving on… In late 2009, Andrew Peterson, esteemed proprietor of the Rabbit Room, sent an email to the contributors inviting us to offer up our top 3 “best of” lists for 2009.  The only rules were that we needed to have discovered or consumed the said title this last year and he also modestly requested that we exclude mentioning his books or records in our list, not necessarily presuming that we would have thought to have included them anyway. I, for one, followed his rules.  Several of the others, though, are lawless rule breakers who seem shamelessly determined to get on his good side… but given that it’s Andrew, and that we’re all here in one way or another on account of our love for his work, I won’t cry “nepotism!”  His work speaks for itself. Still, Andrew, I hope you appreciate that at least I was a good rule follower… (and that you make me your favorite because of it) (Speaking of rule following, one of my favorite things about this list is reading through and seeing all the ways us creative types bent the rules.  Some only list one thing, some create their own categories, and even our own proprieter names more than 3, but of only two categories. Sheesh.  It’s also fun to see common denominators throughout.  Could UP be the best movie of 2009?) So, what follows are some of the books, films, and music we enjoyed in 2009.  We hope that you’ll discover a new film, book, or record that you can lose your heart to listed here, and we also hope you’ll suggest some for us and add to our list with your own faves. RUSS RAMSEY Films: The Hurt Locker I wrote a piece about this for the Rabbit Room here The Road After reading the book, I had a hunch this film would hit me at this stage of life in a similar way to how Braveheart hit me in when I was a college student. I suspected it would move me to consider what mattered most to me, and how far I’d go to take care of those God has given me. I don’t know how filmable this book was, so the film left me wanting a bit but I can’t really think of any ways Viggo and the boy could have turned in better performances. Up When a computer animated montage without a single word has me blubbering in my chair as my confused daughters wondering if their daddy is going to be okay (and if they can have another twizzler), how can I not put Up on my top three. Who knew Pixar had it in them to create such powerful imagery of growing up to be a man who lugs around his past like a burden out of a sense of obligation to the dead? Who knew I’d exhale when his burden finally drifted off into the expanse? Books: Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. Finally got around to this one. The imagery of the boxes of sermons in the attic no one will ever read again struck me as a pastor. I have boxes like those. And I’m continually making more. The Jesus Storybook Bible by Sally Lloyd-Jones Sally Lloyd-Jones has crafted something I hope stays in print and becomes the gold standard of children’s bibles for generations to come.  Why, you ask? Because there isn’t a parent alive who won’t come to know Scripture better as a result of reading this to their kids, and there isn’t a kid alive who won’t have wonderful images planted in their minds, if God so graces them, of stiff-necked people butting up against the truth and truth prevailing. The Book of Genesis. Have you read that book lately? The saga of Abraham and his descendants clues you in on why Jacob called God “the fear.” Oh man. Music: Andrew Osenga- Choosing Sides I have decided the word I am going to use to describe Osenga to folks is “vibey.” I’ll be on this record for a while, I suspect. Andy Gullahorn- The Law of Gravity Gully gives us art that steeps over time, getting richer, sweeter, stronger and dare I say, darker. By darker, I don’t mean sin-dark. I mean, plumbing the deep waters of the heart, going places that don’t see the light of common day very often.  And the confounding thing is he does it without a shred of manipulation, except for four tracks. (kidding) Paul Simon- Surprise This wasn’t released this year, but this was the year I spent time with it. I can’t say I’m a huge Paul Simon fan, but I have come back to this record more times than I can count this year. I especially like “Outrageous.” THOMAS MCKENZIE Andrew challenged us to give our top 3s of 2009.  I took this very seriously and made two rules for myself.  First, it had to be a piece of media that I have actually consumed.  No claiming movies that I will probably love that haven’t been released yet.  No claiming to adore the Hurt Locker, which I missed in the theater.  Second, it had to be something that was actually released in 2009, not just something I read in 2009.  Finally, I decided not to mention any Rabbit Room contributor so as to expand our horizons, and so as not to make Andy Gullahorn mad at me when I didn’t choose him.  Not because I don’t love his music but because he shames me in bowling.  Cheating? Maybe, but who cares? Films: An Education The film that you most likely haven’t seen but you really should, because it is just that funny/beautiful/thoughtful. Inglourious Basterds Get over your prejudices and Tarentino’s silly showmanship, close your eyes 3 or 4 times, and watch the best picture likely to be made this year. Up Because if I can’t stop crying in a film, and I can’t stop thinking about it later, it has to be in this list. Books: Justificiation by N.T. Wright Not his best book, but better by far than any other theological book written this year (I assert having not read all those books).  He is humanity’s greatest living theologian.  Anglicans Rule! Lost to the West by Lars Brownsworth Based on a fantastic podcast, this history of Byzantium is well worth your time. The Prodigal God by Tim Keller Didn’t love the last half of this little book, but the first half unveils the heart of the Gospel. TV: Glee Yes, it has its Christian bashing moments.  But it is the one TV show guaranteed to make me laugh, smile, shed a tear, and feel all warm and fuzzy. Battlestar Galactica, the final season If you have not watched the new Battlestar Galactica from the beginning mini-series through the end, you are missing out on the best television show of this decade. Mad Men The music isn’t just the notes, it’s the silence between. MATT CONNER Films: Star Trek In all seriousness, this film is near-perfect in every way. A proper summer blockbuster that paid proper homage to the source material enough for the nerdy cult following while still being absolutely fun for the rest of us. The Hurt Locker Riveting, absolutely riveting filmmaking. Goodbye Solo Small indie film chronicling the unexpected friendship between an old man wanting to die and a young immigrant just trying to start his life. Affecting in every way. Books: The Fidelity of Betrayal by Peter Rollins Rollins, an Irish philosopher/pastor/theologian, delivers a thought-provoking (and Spirit provoking) work on the necessity of betraying the very religion we love as a part of our spiritual journey. Juliet Naked by Nick Hornby The latest novel from the author of High Fidelity and About A Boy strikes gold with this novel about an out of work songwriting legend. Provenance by Laney Salisbury Fascinating non-fiction work detailing an insane fraud ring in the world of European art in the ’90s. Music: Vic Chesnutt – At the Cut Paraplegic songwriter and session guitarist in Athens, GA makes the best album of his decades-long career with absolutely heart-wrenching songs about bravery and cowardice, life and loss. The Doves – Kingdom of Rust An absolute tour-de-force of a British rock album that shows there’s more than Radiohead and Coldplay out there. The title track alone is my favorite track of 2009, moving like a locomotive from the Doves’ signature rock sound to Johnny Cash to an orchestral explosion. Metric – Fantasies Canadian synth rock that mesmerizes from beginning to end; not a bad track on the entire disc. S.D. SMITH Films: UP A beautiful, truthful story about father hunger, loyalty, love etc. The entire family will enjoy, unless your family is dumb. Star Trek Beam me up for this thrilling…oh, nevermind. Collision A telling contrast of lives and views in this Darren Doane documentary (featuring Christopher Hitchens and Douglas Wilson). Actual debate. Not like the yelling TV “news” shows. Books: Notes From the Tilt-a-Whirl by N.D. Wilson An artful apologetic for joy and thankfulness. Seven out of seven stars. Best book I’ve read in years, as the saying goes. North! Or Be Eaten by Andrew Peterson The adventure continues for Janner, Leelie and Tink. A wonder hardly to be believed at the heart of the world, terrifically dark peril, outstanding. The ESV Study Bible Useful notes, particularly on genre, literary aspects of the different types of books of the Bible. Cool pictures and maps. On the downside, it’s very heavy. If you strictly enforce the “No AP” policy…. Fitzpatrick’s War by Theodore Judson A story set in a future with no electric power, a second steam age, a dominant feudal culture, a conflicted hero and a charming tyrant-in-waiting. Loved it. Music: Eric Peters – Chrome An honest, difficult, delightful record. Bonus: Songs that confuse my brother. Sara Groves – Fireflies and Songs Feels like life, as usual. Good. Coldplay – Viva La Vida Because of Pete’s review I got this and I liked to listen to it with the ear area of my head. A.S. PETERSON Films: I tried to narrow it down to my three favorites and I just couldn’t do it. I comes down to these four and I can’t bring myself to cut one of them. Watchmen Despite flaws like a horribly crass “love” scene and trying too hard to be an action movie, this is still one of the most visually beautiful films I’ve seen in years and one of the best science fiction movies since Blade Runner–and I mean science fiction in its true sense of speculation and consequence, not in the sense of space ships and robots. Like the graphic novel, it’s a movie that asks a lot of really good questions and is smart enough to follow its drama to its logical conclusions while leaving the viewer to decide who was right or wrong long after leaving the theatre. Complex questions + complex answers = great art. District 9 This movie reignited my belief in the power of cinema. Hyperbole? Maybe. There might not be as much depth to it as I’d like but it’s so well done and so completely sweeps you into its story that I found myself grinning like a kid throughout the entire thing just because I was so happy to be watching a story unfold in such an original and compelling way. Inglourious Basterds If there was any doubt that Tarantino is a genius (and there really wasn’t), can we please put it to rest? Riveting from the first frame to the horrifying finale. I think I saw it three times and it just kept getting better. Where the Wild Things Are A movie that is nearly a miracle. There is every reason for it not to work, and yet it not only works, it excels. I can think of no other movie that so perfectly captures the complex nature of boyhood, not on an explicit level, but on a visceral, deep, emotional level. Music: Mew – Frengers It might not have been released this year, but I discovered it this year and wore it out. It’s not the sort of music that I’m typically drawn to, but it’s complex and beautiful and I just can’t get it out of my head. Sara Bareilles – Little Voice Once again, it didn’t technically come out this year but this was the year that everybody heard it. You might be sick of “Love Song” playing on the radio but the entire album is beautiful and her writing is incredible for a girl of her age. The Killers – Day and Age I fell in love with The Killers thanks to Guitar Hero and Rock Band. I had never heard of them before playing “When You Were Young” on the Xbox. When the new CD came out I jumped on it and it’s one of my favorites. “Dustland Fairytale” is just plain epic, not to mention that any album featuring lyrics about spacemen, neon tigers, and asking the eternal question of “Are we dancer?” has simply GOT to be genius…I’m not sure if I’m kidding or not. Books: This list is seriously limited because I read very little that actually came out anywhere near this year. Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell A book that examines some interesting theories on why people are successful. It’s a fascinating read and there are a couple of chapters that have seriously affected the way I think about my writing and what I do with my time. Well worth reading. And because it’s the only other thing I read that came out anywhere near this year: The Manual of Detection by Jedediah Berry If the Coen Bros. decided to write a book starring Adrian Brody, this would be it. It’s a strange, surrealistic mystery, that’s fascinating in its voice and imaginative scope even if it loses some of its narrative steam in the last few chapters. I look forward to reading Berry’s next book. ERIC PETERS Books (of which I’ve barely read three this year): Every Man A King: The Autobiography of Huey P. Long A book every Louisianan should read. Mr. Long, easily the state’s most colorful and entertaining governor-character. The Reason Why by Cecil Woodham-Smith I read this in college, forgot what it was about, so I pulled it from the shelves and read it again. The history and story behind the fatal, and ridiculous, Charge of the Light Brigade. So Brave, Young, and Handsome by Leif Enger I’m unable to adequately put into words why I like Enger’s works so much, but his characters possess that trait of humanity that can never ultimately be erased or forgotten: the comprehension of truth. Music (of which I’ve barely listened to three albums this year): The Weepies – Hideaway I honestly believe I like this album MORE than their previous, more widely acclaimed album, Say I Am You. I don’t know how Deb Talan does it, but her quirky voice is my gold standard for believability. Jill Phillips – The Good Things This album is my favorite of Jill’s thus far. It feels like the most vulnerable project she’s done to date. Killer, memorable, singable songs. The string parts on this album clobber me. Kudos to Jill, Andy G., and producer Cason Cooley. – ?? Beats me. Movies (of which I’ve barely seen three this year): Up “I barely know you, and I love you.” Laugh, cry, laugh some more. Pixar understands storytelling. Cars My three-year-old son’s favorite movie, even though he hasn’t the focusing ability to sit through the entire thing yet. I still can’t watch the three-car race finale without tearing up. Pixar understands storytelling. Land of the Lost I cannot recall a third movie I’ve seen this year, so this will have to do. This movie is terrible, but it’s funny in a few places if only because of Will Ferrell. Sorry – One-Minute reviewer, Thomas McKenzie, I am not. RANDALL GOODGAME Music: Sara Groves – Fireflies and Songs because the songs about marriage and family on this record are so beautiful, to me they are already timeless. Films: UP because I’m just so thankful that I can be so deeply moved by something that my kids want to experience over and over as well. books: I’ve only read 2 books from this year, and North or Be Eaten was my favorite.  And I say so in direct defiance of Andrew Peterson’s ban on listing his works on our lists. It is excitingly fast paced, it is so convincingly written that I believe the characters and scenes and harrowing plot twists and get caught up in the story.  I would read ahead every night after I stopped reading to the kids so that I could find out what happened next. TRAVIS PRINZI Films: Star Trek Can’t believe how impressed I was with this. I also can’t stop watching it over and over. Being a fan of the original series, I have to say: this is how you reboot an entire series. To accomplish a great piece of film-making in a well-loved series without dismissing its entire history and giving it a chance to start over – simply brilliant. X-Men Origins: Wolverine In another year, this wouldn’t have made my top 3 list, but I’ve barely been interested in or seen many films this year. Overall, well done and a nice addition to the X-Men series. Half-Blood Prince And to round out this trifecta of geekyness, despite several big complaints about choices made in this film, it was paced well, mostly told the story it needed to tell, and was visually wonderful. Books: I read plenty of books this year, but only three from 2009. Two of the three are from the Brothers Peterson (North Or Be Eaten by Andrew Peterson and The Fiddler’s Gun by A.S. Peterson). All three would have made my top 5 books of the year list. Here’s the third 2009 book: The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman Excellent Gothic children’s story. Deserves the awards it’s won. Music: Only bought three new albums this year: One of the three is Andrew’s, of course. But I’ll follow his rule and only list my other two 2009 albums: Bob Dylan – Together through Life Bluesy with lots of Texas influence. Really great stuff, with a couple skippable tracks. Robert Hunter’s influence is definitely there. Bob Dylan – Songs for Christmas I was intrigued and a little scared when I heard this was coming out. It’s genius. I’ve been playing it regularly since I bought it in October, despite my “No Christmas music before Thanksgiving” rule. CURT MCLEY Films: Into Temptation It’s about a Catholic priest who learns that a high ticket call girl is going to commit suicide and feels compelled to do something about it, despite the fact that he would have to break rules of the church to do so. The ending isn’t sappy and tidy, like some of those less than honest Christian films. This film contains one of the best forgiveness scenes I’ve ever seen on film. Now I have a school boy crush on Kristen Chenoweth (I watched YouTube talk show videos of her for 1/2 hour after I watched the film), who incidentally is a believer. Jeremy Sisto as the conflicted priest was excellent too. Goodbye Solo This one was directed by the quietly emerging Ramin Bahrani, who was also responsible for two other critically acclaimed films, Chop Shop, which I have seen and recommended here in the Rabbit Room, and Man Push Cart, which I finally saw this summer. It’s an unconventional friendship movie. Solo wants to be friends with a man that is too far gone to be anyone’s friend. He’s the most gregariously, likeable movie character I’ve seen since Sally Hawkins in Happy-Go-Lucky. In one form or the other, most of us carry an array of masks. How pure and refreshing it is to observe a character that hasn’t learned the art of sophisticated deceit in any form. Solo’s only agenda is to be a friend to a man that needs a friend. The Hurt Locker Despite growing weary of war movies, I was inspired to see this movie after reading Russ Ramsey’s review here in The Rabbit Room, and the subtext he highlighted, which on some level amounts to seeking fulfillment in all the wrong thing (s). Music: David Mead – Almost and Always Melancholy goodness. It’s a musical journal of Mead’s divorce, but despite the sad topic, it doesn’t seem doleful. In fact, there’s a tone of forgiveness and compassion which comes through. Mead is to words and phrases as Grace Kelly was to elegance. Jill Phillips – The Good Things I’ll admit it: this one caught me by surprise. It transitioned me from Jill Phillips fan to Jill Phillips superfan. And I didn’t realize it until my iTunes play count reminded me that I was playing it more often than anything else I bought in 2009. “Cool” is typical of the kind of courageous candor and empathetic vulnerability that oozes out of this project, like a salve for the soul. Andy Gullahorn – The Law of Gravity I knew it. Andy’s debut, Old Hat, told me so. Songs like “Better Things,” “Bonsai Tree,” and “Steel Bars” made it clear that Andy didn’t need bells and whistles to sell a song. And now that he’s implemented some tailor-made bells and whistles (and snaps and claps) on The Law of Gravity, I think it will make his skills more obvious to those that may not have heard it in the subdued vibe of his first two records. Andy Gullahorn is a songwriting thoroughbred. Books: The Fiddler’s Gun by A.S. Peterson When the author places a quote from your book review on the cover, how can a guy avoid putting the book on his list of favorites? But seriously folks, this book is everything one might expect from the brother of Andrew Peterson. Ahem. Let me quote myself: ” …beautiful, lyrical, and redemptive.” And besides, now I can use the word “blunderbuss” in a sentence and know exactly what I am talking about. Through a Screen Darkly by Jeffrey Overstreet I’ve known of Jeffrey Overstreet for a long time, having written for at least one review website at the same time, so I expected a quality book, but Jeffrey exceeded my expectations. This is a book about watching and discussing film as a Christian. I felt like I was reading the words of my long lost twin brother because he words resonated so deeply. The author thoughtfully dissects the nuances of film with spiritual themes, which are not always hit you over the head with sledge hammer obvious. A major bonus of reading this book was the sometimes obscure film recommendations. North! Or be Eaten by Andrew Peterson It’s hard to believe, but I am nearing my 10th Anniversary of being an Andrew Peterson supporter. I’m certainly a little biased at this point, but no less accurate when I say that Andrew Peterson is one of our most gifted communicators in the Christian world today. As one might expect from Andrew Peterson, this book is full of humor, which lubricates an already joyful ride. The spiritual themes will move you to the point of tears. AND A LATER COMMENT FROM THOMAS: First off, some of you should see some real movies.  Not you, Curt, you are artsy and I bow before your limited release chops.  But Travis and Eric, I am definitely looking at you. JASON GRAY Films: King Of Kong: A Fistful Of Quarters A treasure of a documentary about the reigning champion of Donkey Kong and the underdog who would be his challenger.  Hollywood couldn’t contrive a better underdog and villain than Steve Wiebe and Billy Mitchell.  I’ve watched it several times this year, and one of them was with a big group of college kids who erupted into spontaneous boos and cheers at various moments in the movie. A thoroughly entertaining look at human nature and a bizarre sub-culture. Wow. Originally recommended to me by our very own Andrew Peterson whose copy I watched repeatedly before begrudgingly returning it to him. Where The Wild Things Are As Thomas said in his one minute review: it’s a children’s psychodrama for adults.  On some levels it was unsatisfying, but I think intentionally so – it’s less about redemption than it is about what it feels like to be a kid. And it’s a singular film, unlike any I’ve ever seen.  It was a ride that was unpredictable at every turn, and for that alone I would be grateful for it. The Fantastic Mr. Fox I haven’t laughed out loud this hard and this often since… I can’t remember.  Another singular film that was unpredictable and unlike anything I’d ever seen before – even unlike Wes Anderson’s previous films. I’m realizing that my list features films that have a certain cool, aloof quality, and so I would like to add UP to the list as well because it’s a movie with a huge heart. In fact, I’d probably pick it over Where The Wild Things Are because of it’s heart, but since everyone else here already mentioned it, I thought it had its fair share of representation.  I mean, they had me crying over husband and wife characters I didn’t even know or care about yet!  Oh, wait a minute… they actually had me crying over my own relationship with my own wife… Music: I spent much of the year working on my own new record, and was in a kind of self-imposed music blackout, so I had very limited music discoveries this year, and it all happened in the last quarter. Besides rediscovering the Beatles with their remastered re-releases (lots’ of “re”s in that sentence), these are three (or th”re”) records I loved this year: Fleet Foxes – Fleet Foxes My favorite discovery since my obsession with Arcade Fire a few years ago!  Beautiful, haunting, melodic… To my ears it’s a blend of Simon & Garfunkel, The Byrds, and CS&N, and yet very modern.  Soooooo good.  Check it out, it’s enchanting. Andy Gullahorn – Law Of Gravity Another amazing record from Gully.  Of course.  I wrote about it here: http://bashful-building.flywheelsites.com/?p=5096 Derek Webb – Stockholm Syndrome I never saw this record coming. Bold and adventurous in both concept and production.  And so dang groovy… It’s a really smart, relevant record that you can dance to. Books: Again, an exceedingly busy year with the new record that didn’t leave much time for books, but I did read a few good ones. Bel Canto by Ann Patchett My wife lost her heart to this book and made me read it, and then I lost my heart to it, too. Patchett has such a confident grasp of her storytelling.  Her voice is so sure and she knows how to tell an amazing story.  It’s about an opera singer and a room full of international businessmen and diplomats who end up being held hostage by a group of terrorists in a bungled attempt to overthrow a government.  But it’s also not about any of that. At all. It’s like a love letter to music, an amazing read – I can’t recommend it enough. A Million Miles In A Thousand Years by Donald Miller I thought I was over Donald Miller.  There’s a part of me that didn’t want to read this book just because Don Miller is so cool that it feels kind of cool to not like him.  And then I read it.  Dang.  One of the endorsements for the book says that it’s more of a book that reads you than one that you read, which is a true statement.  Truly a great little book that engages you in a conversation with your own life and the God who wants to make it a meaningful one. Christ The Lord: Road To Cana by Anne Rice I was unsure going into Anne Rice’s novels about the life of Jesus.  I mean, c’mon.  She’s Anne Rice, author of the vampire novels.  But Randall Goodgame swore by this book and left it with me when he came for a weekend of concerts in MN.  I read the first one and then this one and was profoundly moved.  Maybe not necessarily great literature, but a competent writer offering up a bold and reverent  imagining of the life of Christ preceding the gospel accounts.  The author’s notes about her spiritual journey are the best part of the books. Honorable mention: I read The Jesus Storybook Bible by Sally Lloyd-Jones to Gus this year, and it is a gift of a book, for young and old alike. AND A FURTHER COMMENT FROM TRAVIS: Shoot! How did I completely forget about Where the Wild Things Are? Bump Wolverine from my list and put WTWTA in there instead. AND A FURTHER COMMENT FROM GOODGAME: OK – I will bow to the pressure and pick the only non-AP book from 2009 that I actually read.  In Don Miller’s “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years” – Don embraces the challenge of living proactively with a mind on writing a good story with his life. He does a great job of sharing his process without insisting that you are a loser if you don’t see it that way.  I listened to it on my way to Africa and it was profoundly moving and inspiring. AND A FURTHER COMMENT FROM JASON GRAY Dude (as in Randall) you also read “Christ The Lord: The Road To Cana” – I know because I watched you reading it, and then you loaned it to me, told me I had to read it, and then I added it to my best of 2009 list.  But you didn’t.  And now I don’t know how to feel… STEPHEN LAMB books: The Sacredness of Questioning Everything by David Dark I can’t say enough about this book.  I count David’s second book, The Gospel According to America: Meditations on a God-blessed, Christ-haunted Idea as one of the few books that has actually shaped my thinking in very explicit, discernible ways, helping me to look at the world differently.  This is David’s most accessible book, with many, many passages that are quotable and that have provided the starting point for countless conversations.  The book opens with a quote by Augustine of Hippo – “What do I love when I love my God?” – and in the following pages, David asks us to question, among other things, our religion, our offendedness, media, language, and our interpretations.  To what end?  “We ask the questions with a sense of renewed attentiveness and a hope for renewed invigoration in trying to be agents of redemption, good rememberers, and witnesses to the promise that all that is and was – and is even now damaged by our perversity – will be healed and made whole.”  Before giving a copy of this book to everyone on my Christmas list, I scribbled in the front cover a sentence that bears repeating here: “May you be appropriately challenged.” The Orthodox Heretic: And Other Impossible Tales by Peter Rollins I read all three of Pete’s books in a row this year, starting with How (Not) to Speak of God, continuing with The Fidelity of Betrayal, and ending with The Orthodox Heretic.  One statement in his first book I quote often to help describe what I think Pete is doing with his writing is this: “The difference between the idea that our Christian traditions describe God and the view that they are worshipful responses to God is important to grasp, for while the former seeks to define, the latter is engaged with response.” The Orthodox Heretic is a good entry point into Pete’s work.  A phrase coined by David Dark, explaining the value of certain kinds of media, is that they “expand the space of the talkaboutable,” and Pete’s parables here do just that. Tie between two memoirs A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Don Miller The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner’s Semester at America’s Holiest University by Kevin Roose I’ve written before about Don’s book so I won’t go on about it here, other than to say that it is masterfully written, fun to read, and, like most great memoirs, provides a space for us to consider our own lives. As for The Unlikely Disciple, Kevin Roose’s story about how he, as a sophomore at Brown University, decided to spend his “semester abroad” at Jerry Falwell’s Liberty University, I don’t think I read a more enjoyable book all year.  As someone who, while in high school, did not consider attending Liberty because it was too liberal, I found this a fascinating read, in part because these days I’m in a similar place as Kevin in the way I view that kind of conservative evangelical Christianity.   Contrary to what one might at first think, Kevin does not use this book to mock those different from him, but rather to try to find common ground.  He wasn’t able to make fun of the stereotypes he expected to find at Liberty, because while there he found the stereotypes didn’t fit his new friends.  The fact that The Unlikely Disciple received a favorable review in Christianity Today from a professor at Liberty should tell you something about it. Music: David Bazan – Curse Your Branches This album, by far my favorite of the year, is simultaneously a hard album to listen to and one that I can not listen to enough.  David, formerly the lead singer of the band Pedro the Lion, presents here his most personal work, full of questions about God, faith, doubt, and what it really means to bear witness.  He grew up the son of an Assemblies of God music minister, and after walking away from his faith of his youth, came to realize that he was rejecting, not God, but rather the version of God he had grown up with.  This is an album he didn’t want to write, but after fighting it he came to terms with the fact that this is who he was – who he is – and he had no choice but to wrestle with these questions.  There is a line in “In Stitches”, the last song on the album, about the questions his daughter is now asking him about God, that keeps me awake at night. Joe Henry – Blood from Stars After hearing about Joe Henry from some of my favorite music critics for several years, I finally picked up this album when it came out back in August and was immediately blown away.  I don’t know of a better way to sum it up than Andy Whitman did in his review for Paste Magazine: “Joe Henry is a world-weary romantic; too jaded by false claims and hyped hopes to swallow the vapid Hallmark Card cliches, too cognizant of the tiny miracles of everyday existence to write off the promise and redemptive power of love.” U2 – No Line on the Horizon What really needs to be said about this album?  It’s U2 being U2, easily among their best work.  In the middle of the turn-up-your-stereo rock tracks like “Get On Your Boots,” the slower, meditative songs like “Cedars of Lebanon,” and the breathtaking “Magnificent,” we find gorgeous string counter melodies and even an eight bar French horn solo in “Unknown Caller” that adds exactly what the songs need.  And we find lyrics like these, in the middle of “Stand Up Comedy.”: Stand up, this is comedy / The DNA lottery may have left you smart. / But can you stand up to beauty, dictator of the heart? / I can stand up for hope, faith, love, / But while I’m getting over certainty / Stop helping God across the road like a little old lady. Films: I wasn’t able to narrow it down to only three, so here are my top four. Silent Light I saw this stunning Carlos Reygadas film at the Belcourt theatre here in Nashville on my birthday last year, and it ended up being a perfect way to end the day.  Set in a Mennonite community in Mexico, this is a film of breathtaking beauty, opening with a shot of early dawn, the mountains off on the horizon, a tree halfway between you and the mountains, the sounds of nature filling the air (there’s no soundtrack to distract you).  And then, over the next six or seven minutes, we are shown the rising of the sun.  It is a moment that forces you to put distractions out of your mind, to focus on what you are seeing, to be still, to meditate.  The film ends with another shot of the mountains, a sunset this time, and in-between those bookends we watch as the father of this family of seven kids struggles with whether to end an adulterous affair, to be faithful to the life he has or to pursue what he thinks he wants.  It is a film about grace and compassion and hate, about the soul-destroying cost of unfaithfulness and about love – what it demands and what it offers – and in the end, it becomes a parable about redemption. Summer Hours In this French film by Olivier Assayas, with a great ensemble cast including Juliette Binoche, we are prompted to ask questions about what makes art truly valuable, about how a global economy impacts our lives, about what it does to a society, to a family, when we have no place to go home, no place where we know we belong.  It’s a meditation on death and what we leave behind and the value of relationships.  One of the things I loved about this film was how the siblings all interacted with each other differently, depending on which siblings were in the room.  Not in a back-stabbing kind of way, but simply showing how different people, siblings maybe more than anyone, bring out different sides of us. Up Because several others have already talked about this, I’ll mention only how much I loved the music – it’s my favorite soundtrack of the year – and how amazed I am that in the second five minutes of the film – an animated film, no less – with no dialogue, only music, we are witness to the best love story that has been on the big screen in a long time. (500) Days of Summer The tag-line for this movie, starring Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon-Levitt, let you know what you were in for: “This is not a love story.  This is a story about love.”  We are shown, in random order, scenes from their relationship, from when it seemed everything was perfect (with some hilarious scenes at the greeting card company they work for) to scenes from after things don’t work out.  My favorite moment involved a short black-and-white sequence where Joseph Gordon-Levitt is playing chess on the beach with Cupid, an obvious homage to the scene in Ingmar Bergman’s 1957 Swedish film The Seventh Seal where the knight is playing chess with Death on the beach.  This was the most fun I had at a theater last year. ANDREW PETERSON: Films: Where the Wild Things Are This was a close tie with Up, but it won out. Why? Because I think it took more heart, more ambition, and was a much bigger risk than the Pixar film. Oh, how this movie could have gone wrong. There could’ve been a plush toy campaign, and an annoying Eddie Murphy character or copious CGI. Instead, we got a film with lines like, “Can you take the loneliness away?” We got a film that defied convention, was beautiful, frightening, and so very true to the messy, selfish, heartbreaking, and beautiful heart of childhood. I’m thankful that in a world where films like Transformers 2 and Saw XXI are being made, Dave Eggers, Spike Jonze, and Maurice Sendak took a deep breath, a step back, and a big risk to tell this story. Which leads me to… Up Pixar is batting a thousand. True, some of their films may have missed the mark by a little (Cars comes to mind), but even their less-amazing films are heads above the competition, and they all manage to get to the heart of something. Sure, it was beautiful to look at. Sure it was suspenseful and funny when it needed to be. But in the end, this company in Hollywood released a film that was an ode to marriage. And not just marriage, but a long, faithful one. Millions of children and parents alike were given a glimpse of the fact that sometimes the husband and wife actually grow old together, selflessly love one another, and treasure the heart of another. I loved my wife more after watching this movie. Crazy, I know. Star Trek Now for the less heady fare. I’ve never been a Trekkie, but I watched plenty of the original Star Trek series when I was a kid. I also, like Andrew Osenga, have a weakness for spaceships and laser guns. So I was pumped about this film, especially knowing J.J. Abrams was at the helm of the ship. The best thing I can say about it is that when I watched it I felt the same as I did when I was a kid watching Raiders of the Lost Ark. I only wish it had been less sexy so I could bring my kids along. Food, Inc. I like meat. And I like casseroles. I don’t like Michael Moore-type films that skew the facts to push an agenda. I could be wrong, but this documentary didn’t do that. I’m sure there are more sides to the story than a 90 minute film can show, but if even a fraction of the facts this film exposes are true, then I want to know more. I’m a Wendell Berry fan, and I think he’d applaud the point this film is making. District 9 Once again, laser guns and spaceships abound. If Michael Bay and Jerry Bruckheimer (whose films I loathe) believed their audiences were intelligent, and if they were interested more in storytelling than explosives and hand-cams and frenzied editing and Aerosmith soundtracks, they still wouldn’t have been able to make a sci-fi movie this good. I saw this one with Russ Ramsey, and we both left the theater heartily surprised. I loved the unfolding realization that Wykas was in fact the hero–and his transformation (literal and figurative) was satisfying to watch. Also, spaceships. And laser guns. Inglorious Basterds Poor Thomas. This was his first RR One Minute Review, and he was lambasted with a zillion comments, some of them pretty heated. (Glad you weathered the storm, TM.) It was a good conversation, in the end, and while we may have lost a few readers, I think some folks may have reconsidered their stance on how to think about a story like this one. Of course, this film isn’t for everyone. I’m no fan of violence for its own sake. But I think Tarantino marketed this film to appear more violent than it actually was in order to draw a certain demographic into the theater–only to hold up a mirror and show us how despicable is the enjoyment of violence for its own sake. Apart from the violence (and, don’t get me wrong, after three viewings I still won’t watch some of it) I’m convinced that it might just be an ingenious film. I have a hunch it’ll be studied for years. Books: (I only recommend a few of these with a caveat. I have thus applied the MPAA rating where appropriate. Also, these aren’t all 2009 releases. Big deal.): Teaching a Stone to Talk by Annie Dillard Oh my goodness. Annie Dillard. Her writing is electric in the way that Mark Helprin’s is, but I resonate stronger with her because of her faith. If you’ve never read her work, and if Pilgrim at Tinker Creek is too intimidating, this is the book for you. It’s a collection of her non-fiction essays, none of which are too long for those of you with a short attention span. I can’t recommend this book highly enough. When I re-read it this year I stumbled on lines and ideas that I basically stole for my own songs (like “Lay Me Down”, “The Far Country”, and even “Mohawks on the Scaffold”). 100 Cupboards by N.D. Wilson Nate Wilson is one of my new favorites. I read this one aloud to my kids, and bought the sequel, Dandelion Fire, as soon as it released. The third one, The Chestnut King, releases early this year, and I’ve already pre-ordered it. Why do I like it so much? Because it’s clear that Wilson cares about sentences and words and Story–and he’s a Christian. There are moments where he speaks with a sort of literary accent that reminded me, after I thought about it, of Lewis and Tolkien. We’ll have these in the Rabbit Room store soon and very soon. Winter’s Tale by Mark Helprin I got into Mark Helprin because of Jason and Taya Gray. Jason recommended A Soldier of the Great War and I went for it–all two zillion pages of it. I’ve been a fan ever since. This is a story about New York City–sort of. Jason Germain from the band Downhere described the book to me this way: “It’s like New York City is telling you a bedtime story.” As weird as that sounds, he’s exactly right. Here are broadswords and flying horses and mysterious cloud walls and thugs and newspaper tycoons. Best of all, here’s a love story that defies the chains of Death and Time. Helprin’s sentences were dizzying. He does things with words that I would not have believed possible if I hadn’t seen the pages all but glitter before my very eyes. Helprin isn’t a Christian, but there are moments in this story when the story itself was electric with Eternity. I know that sounds weird, and there’s a better than good chance that you may read it and wonder what on earth I’m talking about. (Rated PG-13) Notes from a Tilt-a-Whirl by N.D. Wilson Here’s another from Wilson, but this one isn’t fantasy. It’s more of a wild, poetic statement of faith, and a call to reverence. Way to go, N.D.–do you mind if call you N.D.? The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet by Reif Larsen I can’t tell if this book made the list because I just finished it, or because it was that good. It’s about a twelve-year-old genius cartographer from Montana who runs away from home to visit the Smithsonian Institute. The book itself is a beauty, with the margins of nearly every page full of the boy’s maps and drawings. It’s funny, scary, thoughtful, and mysterious. The ending didn’t knock it out of the park, but I closed the book satisfied none the less. This was Larsen’s first book, which makes me a little angry. (Rated PG-13) A FURTHER COMMENT FROM JASON GRAY Andrew, first of all, I LOVE Germain’s description of Winter’s Tale!  That’s perfect… and second, I love that you rated your books.  I guess you learned your lesson after The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier And Clay incident.  (Somebody should ask Andrew to relate that story here…) And there you have it!  What do you think?  What are some of your picks for the best of 2009?

As a reader of books who also writes, I often feel a distinct, conflicting emotion when I read great books written by great writers. There is the delight, of course. Here is a person made by God doing something beautiful. Then there is the (often very slight) tinge of despair as I recognize I could never do this. This is less pointed when the genre and style are out of my own vein of writing (such as Patrick O’Brian’s books, which are, for me, an unmixed joy I hardly experience in any other fiction). I have written before on, and firmly believe in, the well-worn wisdom that it’s no use in copying others, or feeling bad about how you compare. It’s best to find your own voice and write what only you can. But still that feeling comes. “Am I kidding myself? I can’t write like this. This is art. This is compelling.” I guess part of it is simple envy, ordinary coveting. This of course, like all sin, must be rejected. I want, rather, to be the kind of man who says in his heart, like Robin Hood to Little John in the Errol Flynn film, “I love a man who can better me.” This runs quite counter to the self-important manure which passes for a philosophy of life in our envy-based culture. May it not be so in us. God be merciful to us.

“That’s the beauty of music and art is that there’s no right or wrong. Whichever way you paint the picture, you’re still painting the picture…” – Jonathan Chandler, vocalist – Amos the Transparent I was speaking with some of the members of Amos the Transparent, an up-and-coming indie rock act (aren’t they all) out of Ontario, but since they’re not really the point here, I’ll stop the bio. Our conversation turned to the subject of creativity and the beauty of art in general when one of the guys said the line above. It’s something that I agree completely with, yet I often find myself responding in the opposite way to it. “That’s not good enough!” That’s the common mantra in my head at most things I write. I can nod my head in an “Amen, sister!” sort of way when someone speaks a beautiful statement of “there is no right or wrong.” Then in a solitary confinement of my own making–surrounded by the smell of fresh coffee, the glow of my MacBook and the sounds of William Fitzsimmons–I become judge and jury to my own creative works, generally delivering a death sentence to each and every one of them. We’re all our own worst critics. I hear that from countless artists I interview and I know the dozens of unfinished projects, essays, books and articles of my own speak to the same fact. Precious few walk this earth who can care less about the interior voices, who feel free to display their paintings or writings or speeches to the greater public without fear. The last time I unveiled something with a wide smile and brimming confidence probably coincided with my fifth birthday. Since then, it’s been a downhill slope of fear and frustration. I go back to that quote however and love the way that Jonathan said it. Part of the beauty of art lies inside that freedom from the confines of what’s right or wrong, in or out. If I fail to find the freedom of that, then I lose the beauty of it–at least if the above statement is true. In other words, when I am lost in a pursuit of perfection and driving myself mad with an inability to “get it right,” I’m losing the beauty of what it is in the first place. In the endless struggle to create beauty, I’m missing the beauty in front of me. I’d love to be free again, or at the very least, to learn to be a bit more free. Of course, I want to work hard, develop my craft, hone my sentences and relentlessly edit. But often I simply shut the treasure chest and shove it back under the bed deeming all things unworthy of release–losing the beauty in the process.

In a few more days we’ll begin a new year and once again disappoint Arthur C. Clarke by failing to discover a mysterious black monolith in orbit around one of Jupiter’s moons (or Saturn’s depending on how you look at it). What can I say? Sorry, Mr. Clarke. I’ve been busy. So while I fear that I won’t be birthed out of the dawn to become the new Star Child and will therefore have to bow out of leading humanity on to its next revolution of progress and identity, I do have a few things that I want to get done and I’m excited about all of them. What follows is a list. The various items upon this list are things that, if I were the Star Child, I should like to make my top priorities. Sadly, though, Star Children are more prone to wandering in and out of the space-time continuum, being desperately cryptic, and dancing to the tune of Thus Spake Zarathustra than doing anything strictly practical. Hence my decision to decline the sojourn to Jupiter/Saturn and the subsequent star-navel-gazing that would surely follow. Note: if you aren’t a Science-Fiction nerd like me, the previous paragraphs likely make zero sense to you and you should probably just ignore them and read the following list after which you are welcome to mock my nerdery in the comments. I’ve decided to limit my list to twelve items. This gives me exactly one month to accomplish each item. Completely doable. Next year maybe I can fit in the trip to Jupiter. In a mildly particular order: Finish writing Fiddler’s Green and have it in readers’ hands by next Christmas Avoid going broke (yet again). Release three books from the Rabbit Room Press and ensure that they are not only filled with great writing but are beautiful to look at and hold in your hand. Own a bed (haven’t had one in 3 or 4 years.) Read more books than Andrew does (fair warning: this is a pipe dream). Get Sarah Clarkson’s book, Read for the Heart, into the hands of a whole bunch of people so they can learn what a great writer she is. Hear Fin Button’s name on NPR (Aim high, right?) Read more from the Bible than I do from the internet. Find a way to make 20,000 people buy the most under-listened-to album of last year, Eric Peters’s Chrome. Pay the bills by writing instead of by destroying my back and knees. Read an S.D. Smith novel. Open a physical Rabbit Room location to teach storytelling, sell books, and drink coffee.