A few years ago a friend of mine introduced me to the song If These Streets Could Whisper by Sean McConnell, a Christian artist who was writing a song about going back home after years away to visit his childhood dwelling. He takes us through his house sharing what the walls would say if they could speak. I love this song. I love the sound of it (nothing beats an acoustic guitar for me), but I also love the message of it. We all have stories to tell, we all have walked down streets in our lives that would probably tell some pretty crazy things if those streets could whisper. Here on this blog is where I share some of those things. I share all kinds of random thoughts--new recipes I loved, book reviews, funny stories, photos from vacations or adventures, and I do a lot of theological reflecting. I can't help it. It's how I look at the world around me. You certainly don't need to agree with my thoughts, but that's kind of the benefit of having a space like this to write. I can share what's going on in my life and my mind, but I definitely don't have all the answers and most of what I write isn't meant to be taken as an absolute. My prayer is that somehow my thoughts and words might be an encouragement to someone out there, or maybe would cause us to think differently or ask questions. But I certainly don't have all the answers!
Thanks for stopping by! And here are the lyrics to the song this blog title was inspired by:
Last night I had a dream I went back to my old home down at 200 Orange Street a long time ago,
And I walked up to the front porch and I opened the screen door and it hit me like it never did before.
Took the stairs up to my bedroom where I spent most of my years, making faces at my brother, holding him through common fears.
And I walked over to the window and my heart almost died, I could hear the neighbors screamin’, “Come outside, come outside.”
And our young voices make me see the kind of children that we used to be.
And if these streets could whisper, if these walls could speak, they would scream out love they would cry themselves to sleep, They would pray to Jesus, they would sing rock and roll, they would laugh with each other, they would live soul to soul. But I guess that don’t matter anyway, cuz if these walls could speak I know what they’d say…I know what they’d say.
Took the hallway to the bedroom where my parents used to sleep, where I’d sneak in during quiet and my nightmares grew too deep.
And I walked over to the closet where my father hung his ties,
I still smell the scent of cigarettes and years gone by.
That closet used to look so tall and now everything around here seems so small.
But if these streets could whisper, if these walls could speak, they would scream out love, they would cry themselves to sleep, They would pray to Jesus, they would sing rock and roll, they would laugh with each other, they would live soul to soul. But I guess that don’t matter anyway, cuz if these walls could speak I know what they’d say…I know what they’d say.
In this dream of childhood memories some I never will forget, some I might as well.
Well most of them have happy endings, some of them still burn like hell…they burn like hell…they burn like hell, yeah.
So to the living room I went, to where my sisters used to sing,
Used to get on my last nerve now I’d give anything just to see them there again, dancing like they used to do, spinning circles holding hands until I’d break on through.
Well I woke up when I heard a shout, “Ain’t it beautiful how life turned out?”
But if these streets could whisper, if these walls could speak, they would scream out love, they would cry themselves to sleep. They would pray to Jesus, they would sing rock and roll, they would laugh with each other, they would live soul to soul. But I guess that don’t matter anyway, cuz if these walls could speak I know what they’d say, I know what they’d say, I know what they’d say, I know what’d they say...
