Pedro, Oh Pedro.

A long time ago, when I was about 9 years old, I sat against a doorpost facing my parents room. The door post that I was sitting against was at the entryway of my oldest brother Adam's room. Adam would talk to me if I sat outside his room but he would never invite me in. I guess it's one of those big brother things. Anyway, it's odd that on this particular occasion I had gained one of the longest lasting impressions of my life.

As Adam messed around with things in his room he pulled out a small EP case that he had been "looking for." I turned my head around the corner in the middle of his excitement and saw this small, brown case with a lion sitting down with his back to the artist who drew it. When Adam excitedly placed the CD in his enormous CD player and skipped immediately to track 5 (I still remember the track) I heard one of the most simple but haunting melodies that my ears have ever had the good fortune of hearing. A song called "Lullaby", by David Bazan, the lead singer and song writer for a band known as "Pedro the Lion."

It's a simple melody written in the key of C, mediocre in whatever complexities it may have, and it is single handedly the song that has impacted me more than any other in my life. From that time, only hearing it once, until the CD was dug up again 5 years later, I never forgot the chorus. The very song that's, no matter where I've found myself in life, chorus always creeps its way back into my head and reminds me who I am. The song I've sung to myself a thousand times over on the most difficult of days...

Today is one of those days. There are few things more frustrating to me as a person than my own inability to do what I know I should. When I know how I should act, what I should think, what I should say, but my own stresses and frustrations and pains cause me to say something entirely different. That frustrating characteristic of my personality has shown its ugly head many times in the past week or so. I should be okay, I should be at peace but for some reason I continually react and lash out.

Having done so again today and feeling guilty for it, I picked up my guitar to see if I could simply "play it out" of my system. No matter how many melodies I created, no words would come out. I remained silent and upset. Confused. Overwhelmed. Wanting to apologize to the person I just lashed out at but unable to do so I was forced to just sit there and continue to brood with my dull and uncreative melodies. Suddenly, I played a C chord and followed it by the intro to David Bazan's lullaby to himself. I found myself hidden in the corner of my office replaying the chords again and again and crying to myself as I replaced the authors name with my own...

Rest in me, little David

And dry all your tears

You can lay down your armor

And have no fear

'Cause I'm always here

When you're tired of running

I'm all the strength that you need

I find myself crying again just at typing it out.

Sometimes I guess I need to realize that all of my frustrations and excuses are just weak attempts at justification for running. I am finite and weak and I consistently fall short, and rather than fix my issues I excuse them. I fight to correct the people around me so that I can remain comfortable and unchanged. Writing my issues off as typical Ben Rothwell qualities...

I know I can't be perfect, but that doesn't mean I need to fight forever in hopes of fixing everyone else.

I'm sorry that I always argue, that I fight. That everything has to be black and white and it all has to make sense. That if something is said and that something doesn't happen, that I view it as a hostile attack on my well being. I'm sorry that my blatant disregard for people who are different results in me being a terrible example of Christ. I don't know why I do it, and I know that it hurts people around me. I'll fix it, I promise.

Maybe some days I just need to be reminded to lay down my armor and give up... to stop fighting at least long enough to realize that it's done me no good, and I should just find rest in the arms of my savior...