Rock and Roll Heart

It's not a very sophisticated song, not one of Clapton's best, but I like it nonetheless. Sometimes I joke around and say that I have a rock and roll heart. It's only half-joke, though.

Sometimes I look around me and I think I can, fairly accurately, put folks into musical categories. Pop music - fashionable, trendy, fun, shallow. Country music - dusty, rode hard and put up wet, but clever and industrious. Rap - persecuted, angry, attention-seeking. Classical - uppity, pretentious, serious. Blues - lonely, betrayed, vengeful.

I'm overgeneralizing, sure. But I think you get my point.

I love all of these genres of music, but I've walked to a rock and roll beat most of my life. Speaking my mind. Expressing myself in unique ways. A little too loud and a little too colorful at times. Sometimes forgetting where I am and having to be reminded to tone it down a bit. A little rough around the edges, but doing my best to be honest and fair. Not taking life too seriously. Not worrying too much what others think and, more importantly, not expecting others to worry too much about what I think. Knowing, deep down, that my God loves me no matter what.

And I find myself in a phase of life in which I need to care what other people think. I am employed as a manager at a faith-based organization. I am a church choir director. I am a wife. I am a mother. Suddenly, my reputation matters. When did this happen? When did I go from young and free to mature and responsible?

Maybe maturing means that I can no longer have a rock and roll heart. Or maybe it means that I need to be more rounded in all the categories. Probably it means I need to open my eyes and ears and heart and pay closer attention to how I fit into the world around me.