jazz

While not perhaps the seminal piece of theological reflection of the last two decades, Donald Miller's book Blue Like Jazz raises some thoughtful questions and is useful for a good many things. Music theory, however, is not one of these things.

Miller begins the book by saying "I never liked Jazz music because Jazz music doesn't resolve." That sentiment may be a poetic and helpful way to begin his musings, but he clearly doesn't understand what he's talking about, because, while there is tension inherent to the style, Jazz does indeed resolve. The blue notes and melodic tensions withing the harmonic structures of jazz have the beautiful capacity to simultaneously pull your heart apart and put it back together, but in the end they are part of some greater musical wholeness that finds resolution. Sometimes you just have to wait a bit.

I don't know that you've ever thought, "Hmm. I wonder what Jim listens to on his car radio?" but if you were curious, I generally listen to North Carolina Central's WNCU 90.7 which is almost entirely devoted to playing jazz. The other night as I was driving home from visiting Emily, Dave Brubeck's "Take Five" came on the radio, which I'm reasonably certain is my favorite Jazz composition of all time.

I like "Take Five" so much because while it is a pretty bit of melody and harmony, rhytmically it almost doesn't resolve. The song is written in an odd time signature (5/4 to be exact) and the rhythm keeps driving through, but always with a tension and feel that makes me hold my breath waiting for the next beat. (Safety note to readership: do not hold your breath for extended periods of time while driving your car.)

I mention this song mostly because it gives you a pretty good idea of how Emily feels right now. There is clearly a rhythm driving us forward, but there is also a deep tension in where she is and where she would like to be. Being off of the ventilator and speaking have added welcome melodic and harmonic twists, but they have not yet marked the resolution of the song. We are playing out our parts as faithfully as we know how, and waiting for the next changes to come.

This is not yet set in stone, but we are relatively certain that by the end of the week Emily will be moving to UNC's rehab facility on the 7th floor of the main hospital. She's looking forward to the move, but the move is still not home, and so she's a bit downhearted about that. Going home is the only thing on her mind right now. All else is precursor to that. In fact, yesterday when I got to the hospital, Emily was sitting up and painting. She had painted our home. I could see in her eyes that there was no place in the whole world she would rather be.

That is the tension we are living in, and while, like jazz, we know it will resolve itself in time, that resolution feels too far off right now, and the notes a bit too blue. I pray that this transition will go smoothly, and that we will find our resolution soon.