40 Days of Lent with Don and Karen Peris: The Innocence Mission and I

I grew up in the Southern Baptist church, and for me “Lent” was largely a word that made me think of bellybutton lint or dryer lint. It was not anything that prompted much in the way of spiritual contemplation. When I was in my early 20s and I had not yet been diagnosed with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, my dad has referred to my obsessive introspection as “navel gazing.” Perhaps then, the bellybutton lint reference is apt after all.

On that note, I would like to write a series of posts over the Lenten season that will focus exclusively on The Innocence Mission’s Birds of My Neighborhood record. It has long been a favorite album of mine, and I feel it has much to offer in the way of Lenten meditation.

This is the kind of meditation I need right now. Life as a new parent is proving to be frantic, fragmented in focus, and inwardly exhausting. But it is also a source of very real joy, which makes all of the aforementioned ailments worthwhile. My wife and I have taken turns being sick from sleep deprivation, and little Evie has had multiple colds too. Somehow though, our hearts remain hearty.

All that being said, I think I need a quiet space this Lenten season. Life is too loud, too jarring, to savor if there is no introspection or inward celebration to undergird it. So I am going to do my best to look at my favorite Innocence Mission album, Birds of My Neighborhood, and see what I can learn about Lent from it.

When we think of Lent, we tend to think of what we will choose to “give up” during this season’s 40 day span. When I hear this Innocence Mission record, I read Karen Peris’s lyrics and see how she and her husband Don felt like giving up on having children. The Catholic couple had been trying without success to have a child, which naturally directs my thoughts to my own 3-month-old daughter, Evangeline Sofia. Having a child is a miracle, as far as I am concerned. The way a baby is woven in the womb with only a genetic blueprint to guide its formation; the way the placenta springs into existence to nourish the child; the way the body’s blood supply increases by 60% to accommodate the indwelling child’s presence. To long for this miracle and go without it must be incredibly discouraging.

Karen and Don Peris wrote Birds of My Neighborhood record out of their own barrenness. But somewhere during the songwriting process, Karen found out she was pregnant. (If I am getting this story wrong, by the way, I would love for the Perises to chime in and correct me.) It was like a little Easter in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, where the Perises live in musical quietude. A branch of spring flowering in Karen’s womb. A resurrection of buried hope.

I cannot help but think we know very little about the value of quietude anymore in American society. Meditation on soul-nourishing matters is foreign in our fast-food culture, most likely because inward renewal is more of a crock-pot experience than a microwaved matter of instant gratification. So I would like to look at Lenten scriptures, and also this Innocence Mission record, which is as spare and gorgeous and heartfelt as any record I have ever heard. It is an audio artifact, but it is a quiet one. It is a collection of songs spun by souls who clearly value the kind of meditation that offers renewal.

I need renewal and recharging because life is proving to be fast and furious, and I can hardly keep up these days. I want to savor my daughter. I want to enjoy my wife. I want to nurture an inward attitude of gratitude toward God for the blessings He has placed in my life.

My agent continues to shop my book to potential publishers, and I hope it comes out at some point. My new friend Anne Jackson, who is a Christian author worth knowing and reading, has said she would not want to release a book in the current market because everyone is releasing books now. It is easy for books to be lost in such a setting, and I understand her thoughts on this matter. I was just reading Eric Metaxas’ book Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy, and Bonhoeffer’s first book came out without any kind of fanfare at all. No one noticed it. I am not comparing myself to Bonhoeffer, of course. But I take comfort in knowing that, if my book comes out and no one notices or cares, it is okay. When can an author write and release books, but while his heart is willing, and his typing fingers are nimble and able? If my book is published and anyone discovers it, it is my hope that they will carry it with them in their hearts and share it with others. It may find its way over the years, even on a small scale. As it is, I pass out electronic copies of it to people I meet, and I never hear back from most of them. But I know a few people believe in my work and have professed to enjoying the book, which is comforting.

Anymore, I am realizing that, in a world where anyone can be an author and self-publish an eBook on Amazon.com in five minutes, each writer is essentially a drop of water in an endless literary ocean. Maybe all of our stories are worth hearing. On the other hand, as Flannery O’Connor asserted, perhaps too many of us believe we are writers, and we would do better not to force yet another unneeded manuscript upon the world. It is humbling to know that so many writers are driven to publish, and that I am just one of many. I hope my book sees the light of day, and I hope it is something someone, somewhere can cherish inwardly. The Innocence Mission’s Birds of My Neighborhood definitely influenced the book’s writing process, especially in the way it grew like a tree rooted in my heart, its shoots and branches growing outward in a hundred different directions, with each essay blowing in the wind like a limb a child could climb.

Perhaps this Lenten season I can write about this album and eventually weave those writings together into a larger essay that can be published in a future book. I have a few unpublished essays that are waiting to find a home in a book, and I suspect there will be more. I do not want to give up on writing or creating or delving deep into the inner life where all of these things begin and end.

My exploration of this record will probably proceed on a song-by-song basis. I would like to study this album as work of musical literature, and do so in conjunction with Lenten scriptures. I may even craft a prayer or two along the way. I need this kind of quiet. Right now, the white noise from our furnace is overwhelming the quiet in the basement here as I write this, and it is a welcome sound. Baby Evie is sleeping in her swing next to me, keeping quiet as only sleeping babies can. I am thankful for her, and for this life, short and surreal though it is.

All these birds of this neighborhood are leaving /some days we feel left behind.

“Chad Thomas Johnston is an author, sonuva’ preacha’ man, PhD-dropout, singer/songwriter, music producer/sonic reducer, daydreaming doodler, gorilla/guerilla publicist, cinemaddict, & pop-culture obsessive. He is represented by Seattle, WA-based literary agent Jenée Arthur, who is currently shopping his debut manuscript to major publishing houses.

Follow Him on Twitter: @Saint_Upid

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