only help my unbelief


In which Christian and I realize that we’re actually 82 years old
December 18, 2008, 12:00 pm
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Every Christmas, for the past three years, Christian and I have always done the same thing: seen Behold the Lamb together.

I am absolutely in love with the music, the people, the entire idea behind the show. You can read the Wikipedia article to which I linked, but I’ll give you a rundown of what goes on.

Basically, Andrew Peterson and a bunch of his friends (like this guy, this guy, this girl, this guy and this guy, and sometimes this guy and this girl and this girl) play some of their songs for the first half of the show. There’s an intermission, and then they come back and play through all the songs from Behold the Lamb, which basically tells the story of Christmas from the Old Testament until Jesus dies on the cross (which, actually, is the story of Christmas. Not just the innkeeper part.).

If you’re still dubious, let me just give you this line from the song Labor of Love, which describes the night Jesus was born from Mary’s point of view:

Noble Joseph at her side, calloused hands and weary eyes.
There were no midwives to be found on the streets of David’s town in the middle of the night.
So he held her and he prayed, shafts of moonlight on his face,
But the baby in her womb, He was the maker of the moon,
He was the author of the faith that could make the mountains move.

It makes me weep EVERY TIME.

Last night, Christian and I both got off work early. He drove to my house and got in my car to scoot up to Charlotte. We made it just in time for the show and found our seats.

The “in-the-round” portion, where all the members of the tour play their own songs, was great. I knew most of the songs that were played, mostly because the members of the tour basically make up my top ten favorite musicians, which made it even better. I love singing along (no feedback yet on whether the people around me loved my singing along).

During the intermission, we went up to the tables, realized we already had all the CDs they were selling, and sat back down. Then they started playing the songs for Behold the Lamb. It ended with everyone at the show singing “O Come, All Ye Faithful” and “Angels We Have Heard on High.”

As soon as the last strain of the last song faded, I picked up my purse.

“Are you ready to go?” I asked Christian.

“Oh, but didn’t you want to see Jill and Andy?” he said. Jill and Andy are married and are good friends with Christian’s former youth pastor. They’ve played several times on Christian’s church youth retreats. The last time we saw them, they remembered him and it made his day.

“Well, I do, but if we leave now we’ll beat all the traffic,” I responded. It was at this point that I realized I had become my father, who always used to make us leave sporting events before they were completely over so that we could “beat the traffic.” When I told my mom about me saying this, she was horrified.

“There’s going to be traffic anyway,” he said. “Let’s go see if they’re up there.”

At this point, I almost started crying, because I was so tired, and I said a variety of incomrephendable things like “I’m sure they’re not up there” and “They won’t remember you.” In case you’re wondering, yes, I was being a complete jerk.

So we wandered up to the stage, where some of the tour people were putting away their stuff. Of course, the only people not putting away their stuff were Jill and Andy. So we stood off to the side and joked about talking to the other Andy. I lamented the fact that I hadn’t made him double chocolate peppermint cookies, because he had commented about them on my Facebook status, which made my day.

We waited for at least 15 minutes. Still no sign of Jill or Andy. We went out to the merchandise to see if they were there. Nope. We came back and saw Andrew across the room. It was the first we’d seen of him, so we wondered if Jill and Andy were with him. They weren’t, but we decided to say hi to Andrew and remind him of some stories he told us a few years earlier.

We waited until we could talk to him, and he was friendly as always. Christian brought up the stories.

“Hey, Andrew, you probably don’t remember us, but a couple years ago we saw you in Knoxville and you told us about this time when you played in Columbia and my fiance saw you, and you were playing a song called ‘Mary Picked the Roses’ and you passed gas during it.”

Andrew laughed and said he often regrets the stories he tells.

“Yeah, and then another time, you told us that even though we were in college, we should get married, because you got married in college and you said it was awesome because you got to be in college but it was OK to have sex.”

Andrew laughed with us some more, and we told him that if they ever made a documentary about his life, we would be happy to share those stories again. I think he was really appreciative.

On the ride home, we discussed what we might talk to him about the next time we see him in concert, and decided we are actually no longer able to approach him, because what are we going to say? “Hey, Andrew, you probably don’t remember, but last time we saw you we told you about how the time before that when we saw you  we told you about the time before that when we saw you and you told us these stories…” It could go on forever.

Anyway, after we talked to Andrew, we spotted Jill and Andy. They were in the one spot we hadn’t yet surveyed. Happily, they remembered Christian and so the entire 30 minute wait was worth it. At least for him. They also spoke to me very kindly, telling me I look like the wives of one of the other guy’s on tour, which is always kind of awkward, because you don’t realy know what to say.

And with that, we left, and this is when it become readily apparent that we are no longer in college. When we first planned to go to the show, we knew it would be on a work night, but we figured we could just shake it off the next day. We left Charlotte around 10:15 p.m. for what was essentially a 2-ish hour drive. I normally go to bed at 11 p.m.

We stopped at Sonic around 11 because neither of us had eaten dinner. It took forever, and they gave me a cherry slush instead of a cherry limeade slush, WHICH IS NOT EVEN KIND OF THE SAME. My onion rings, however, were delicious.

Once we got done there, Christian was driving and trying to eat and so we got on the wrong interstate. This took about 10 minutes to correct. At this point, it was about 11:30 p.m. and we were still approximately one hour from home.

“Are you OK to drive?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah,” he said confidently. “I can definitely make it home.”

I dozed off for about three minutes.

“Are you sure you’re OK?” I asked again.

“Actually, can you drive?”

And so we pulled over and switched.

“Just let me know if you need to switch again,” he said, and then he promptly fell asleep.

And so I kept myself awake by singing along to the Hairspray soundtrack.

I stumbled into bed around 12:30 a.m., only to wake up less than 6.5 hours later for work.

When the alarm clock went off this morning, it was abundantly clear that I no longer possess the on-demand adrenaline-laced blood that pulses through your veins when you’re up all night with friends and have an exam at 8 a.m. the next morning. Even worse was the realization that I couldn’t just go to work for a few hours and then come home and nap.

My 97-year-old great grandmother, though, apparently sleeps until 1 p.m. every day, though, so maybe it’s not so bad to grow up.

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2 Comments so far
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OK, first, you are so right about the difference between the Sonic drinks. The cherry limeade is worlds apart! (And my favorite too.) I rarely get to enjoy it though, as the closest Sonic is a sad 45-minutes away (odd b/c my town is supposedly the chain-restaurant capital of the state or something, so why Sonic is not here confuses me). Anyhow.

Second, we have six-degrees of separation!!! So fun! I think the Andy you mentioned here is from my church—I know his parents (I got to write the narration for them as part of the Christmas music program they put together). I don’t know Andy, but I love his parents, Dave and Donna. (I think this somehow makes us cousins twice removed, right?) Unless this is a completely different Andy. Then there is no six-degrees and you just heard a whole bunch about people you don’t know. 🙂

Comment by erinstraza

Well, is their last name Gullahorn? I don’t think that’s the most common of names! And I think that Andy and Jill live in Nashville and have 3 (?) kids. All this info is from Facebook, which actually makes me feel like an incredibly big dork and also a stalker.

Comment by Chelsey




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