Walk On

This is for Stacie, her sister, family and anyone grieving the loss of Sam Dillard. Stacie wrote a very articulate blog post about some deeply profound feelings. Well, the blog post is actually an excerpt from her journal. What she shared on her blog made me think of the lyrics from “Walk On” so I will attempt to tie them together here. I will not share all of what Stacie wrote, but you can visit her blog yourself for the rest: faithandart.blogspot.com, the link is over on the left.

Stacie said:
I'm conflicted because one moment I seem to "get" that this life is temporary. I mean, I don't just acknowledge it but really fully feel it. This world and this life is only a very bad copy of what we're created to be and of the reality that God exists in.

I sense it so strongly sometimes that I almost feel like I could go out and kick the car in the driveway and it would crumble up like tissue paper. And if I blew into the air the clouds would part and the sky would ripple like a curtain - that's how strong a sense of falseness I have at times about this life. But then I stick out my foot and rest it on the coffee table. And realize how hard and solid it is. And the sense of hope I had from my (very) brief moment of understanding is gone.

As an artist I feel like sometimes I'm trying to communicate something I've actually never experienced. To create something with a beauty I've never actually seen but that I'm so sure of that it's painful and makes my chest hurt to think about it. I have no doubt that that beauty does exist, even though its full view is hidden from us.

I think what some people consider "the muse" is really just an unconscious act of "getting it." But they suffer less emotionally if they don't realize it's a real thing they're inspired by. It's easier to call it the muse; it doesn't make you so homesick (homesick for a place you've never been!)

Sam's death has made me homesick that way. Not like my sister would feel, wanting to be with him again. Mine is due more to having to continue to admit I still believe God is good. Which means that Sam is in that place now - the place that is just out of my reach when I think I have it, or that surprises me when flashes of it show through just the right combination of color and transparency. Or a photograph. or a song that makes me almost cry - not because it's sad but because they lyrics or melody remind me of that place where I belong but have still never seen.

Well said, my dear friend. And here’s why the U2 song “Walk On” was the soundtrack in my head while reading Stacie’s blog:

And if the darkness is to keep us apart
And if the daylight feels like it's a long way off
And if your glass heart should crack
And for a second you turn back
Oh no, be strong

Walk on, walk on
What you got, they can't steal it
No they can't even feel it
Walk on, walk on
Stay safe tonight...

You're packing a suitcase for a place none of us has been
A place that has to be believed to be seen
You could have flown away
A singing bird in an open cage
Who will only fly, only fly for freedom

And I know it aches
And your heart it breaks
And you can only take so much
Walk on, walk on

Home...hard to know what it is if you never had one
Home...I can't say where it is but I know I'm going home
That's where the heart is

So, for Stacie and her family who loved Sam and knew intimately the ways he demonstrated God’s truth and grace daily- walk on. God is faithful and Christ is our redeemer in ways we can’t even imagine.