Returning via Kansas

Returning via Kansas

They broke into the iconic harmony of Carry On My Wayward Son, and the nostalgia-hungry crowd stood to their feet. Of all the 70’s bands touring the world right now, presumably because they are managing some equation of “need” and “want”, we find ourselves at the Kansas concert. Really? Kansas?

Eldest sister saw Aerosmith in Detroit and OH! how I would have preferred that memory-romp beyond all others. But through husband’s work, we nabbed the opportunity to host a table at last night’s Picnic at the Pops concert. [Which, by the way, seriously needs a new brand work up.]

The symphony is always a joy, so that part of the evening was a wonderful chance to sink into a much needed, soothing zone of orchestral comfort. Love it. This week was particularly full of roller coaster emotions.  Warfare is on; all fronts challenged.


As the members of Kansas took the stage, I watched their 60 year old bodies perform the same songs we belted out 35 years earlier in our basements and ‘75 mustangs, and I was struck:

1. I hadn’t heard Dust in the Wind, or Carry On since high school, and never with these ears. Interesting.

2. It was real.  These guys created and performed these anthems back then because it was the only thing they could do. The words and melodies came from deep within them, and that’s why we all sang along. And apparently to them, it’s still real today. Perhaps it’s all they ever had. I couldn’t decide whether to feel sad for them because, though musically great, they seemed tired and they’d probably rather be sitting watching the symphony with us, or should I celebrate the fact that their creations have endured enough to sell tickets.  They get to live it again.

The music takes us back in much deeper ways; that’s why we schlepp to these concerts in droves.  The live experience transports us; stirs memories and emotions that re-ignite hidden [healed?] places and vibrate throughout our veins.

Me?  I wouldn’t go back there for all the money in the world.  My husband and I shook our heads while driving to the show, as we blared the music of our youth louder than normal.  We shouldn’t be alive.  We both know we tested too many limits; sought too many thrills, and found them in the reactions of others. [ugh!]

Which brings me to #3. As the band left the stage, I was overwhelmed with the beautiful-ridiculous blessing of my children, and my life today.  Even in the foolish seasons we go through, God sees us as more than we can possibly know.  What? He gave me fabulous healthy children???  Now that’s crazy.

He must have seen me as coachable.

The music ultimately took me to a new place, beyond the simple memories of the era. Once again shocked and humbled by God’s grace.

My children are wiser and more brilliant and motivated in the right directions: that’s miraculous.

Our heavenly father plucked me up and conquered the death-trap I was creating, and continues to lovingly guide me today: that’s scandalous.



Have you relived any of your crazy-years this summer?




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