caving in...

I went to Atlanta today to play for a Valentine's banquet. It was at a church in which an old roomate and dear friend of mine is working as the interim youth minister. The event was fun but a bit strange as well. I played solo guitar for about 45 minutes while people ate dinner and no one said as much as a word to me when it was all over. I'm not desperate for affirmation by any means, but I guess I was expecting some. I feel like I played well, considering my un-practiced state, but it was a bit discouraging to feel like no one listened.

We stopped at my parent's in Chattanooga on our way home, which is always nice. My parents are terrific people and it's always a joy to share them with others as my traveling companions had never been there before.

The drive back was my shift behind the wheel, the perverbial graveyard. As we passed from the vacant and rolling farmland of middle Tennessee, shadowy from a brilliant moon, into the luminous freeway that expands into the outskirts of the city, a feeling came over me I'm quite fond of. This particular stretch of road was newly paved and the overhead lights reflected on the tarmac, giving me a sense of sterility I've often associated with sprawling 21st century cities. That might not make any sense so I'll word it again. At night, the outskirts of a city, with the warehouses and intermittent darkness, can seem so vacant and lonely, but not an unwelcome loneliness. My new Death Cab cd was playing on my iPod and as I experienced the songs for the first time, I felt the sky above me open into the darkness as if all the lights above me, moon, stars, and lamps, disappeared and a great warming expanse opened before me. In the emptiness, it seemed my heart swelled and my chest caved in around it; it felt devine, it felt like love. I thanked God for a moment of serenity and beauty in the industrial landscape, and for music.

Eventually, my companions stirred and the moment faded, but I thought about those unexpected moments where you connect with God and your heart seems to just pull right out of your chest. It's a restless feeling, welcoming and illuminating, reminding me of how alive I really am. These moments happen at night while driving more than any other time and I relish them always. I truly hope you relate on some level. Blessings.