Epiphany

There are few things that bring more joy to my husband than sweet harmonies and thoughtful lyrics.  So a few years ago, when he was approached by his dearest friend and fellow musician, Wen Reagan, about revamping and re-releasing their holiday album, Stuart jumped at the opportunity.  He found himself in the middle of a sultry Little Rock summer, neck-deep in medical school, singing of Advent.  Any few, precious spare moments he had were spent at his desk in the middle of our living room, picking away melodies on his guitar and exploring his vocal range to find just the right place to add a line of harmony.  "...in excelsis Deo!"

It lasted into the fall,  when he found himself on airplanes and highways, exploring new cities and hospitals, impressing program directors and chief residents, trying to find his place in the world of OB/GYN residency.  He was able to complete his creative work just in time for the mixing and mastering to be done back in Durham, in Wen's spare bedroom (that's where the magic happens).

Epiphany was released in time for the holidays in 2011.  And my husband had a complete project, totally unrelated to that which was dominating his life: medicine (and it remains so).  It was so special for me to watch him create this album.  He had done this several times before, but entirely before we met.  This time, I got to watch it happen (at least a little... many of the songs were complete, just needing some retouching for this new release).  It's a curious, beautiful thing to watch someone that you love pour themselves completely into a project that they love.

But this album grew to be so much more important to me since its release.  As soon as the CDs arrived in the mail, we made sure they were distributed out for all of our family to listen to and brag about (and sell!).  One made it's way into the hands of my Pappa Acree, who was battling relapsed lymphoma at the time.  He and my Mamma were making the trek into Charleston, WV a few times a week from their home in Ripley, roughly an hour's drive.  He needed chemotherapy to fight the cancer.  When he wasn't able to receive chemo anymore, he still needed blood tests and transfusions to keep him going.  I went to visit him in November, and I rode with them to the hospital for one of his many lab checks of the week.  Epiphany started playing when my Mamma started the car.  Pappa started telling me how much he loved it, how they listened to it every time they drove down to Charleston.  I like to think that these words of Advent fed his soul and gave him courage every few days as he went into battle for his life during his last several months.

Here's the thing about my Pappa:  he wasn't a lovey, mushy gushy kind of old man.  He was a story teller, a joke teller, gave little side hugs and said "thanks for visiting."  "I'm glad you got to see me."  We adored him for these things.  But then, he had this unusual affinity for Stuart.  They played golf together.  They picked on the guitar together.  He just really liked him.  That trip I took to see them in November was the last time I saw him before Pappa went home on hospice.  Before I left for home, Pappa took me aside and told me how much he respected Stuart and how proud he was of him and all that he had accomplished in school, and with this Christmas album, that it was really special to him.  I knew that was his way of telling me how immensely proud he was of me, too.

In February of 2013, Stuart drove us through the night to make sure I got to WV to say goodbye to Pappa before he passed.  We arrived and it was so gloomy in the house, with Pappa laying unresponsive in his hospital bed.  Stuart picked up Pappa's guitar and started singing to him.  A palpable sense of peace, even joy, filled the home.  Pappa passed away late that night.  After the funeral a few days later, as we loaded the car and said our goodbyes, my Mamma gave to Stuart my Pappa's old guitar.  "He would have wanted you to have it."  Tears filled our drive home.

As this year's Advent season approaches, and my heart begins yearning in anticipation of the coming Messiah, I listen to Epiphany with my baby son.  "I only wish Pappa could have met him," I think, or rather, that James could have had the privilege of knowing my Pappa.  I find myself so grateful for Epiphany.  So grateful that Wen asked Stuart to work on such a project, at such a seemingly inconvenient time in Stuart's life for such things.  So grateful for the timing of its release and the way it ministered to my Mamma and Pappa Acree.  So grateful for it, even now, as I long for my own son to anticipate the coming season.

[And here is a photo of James, since I know that's why most folks read this blog.]