I sit here waiting for my stellar husband to come home from
doing a late night radio talk show in Indy. I watched most of it, and caught 1 ½ of his
songs played lived in the studio. My
husband is always incredible to watch live.
I sit on edge as I watch, but he is phenomenal as always.
Four kids sleep downstairs in my living room, I open Word
and start to type, listening for the roaring of our small diesel jetta to alert
my ears of his arrival. It can be heard
2 blocks away.
I stare into the flames from our fake fireplace and my mind
begins to wonder, unwinding from the busyness of the past four months. The blank page is calling me, and has
been. Seldom have I answered it. I’ve got things to say I can’t say yet. Stories that simply aren’t mine to
tell. And then there are the thoughts
that pass through my head in a day, the ones I can write about…but don’t.
I’m desperately afraid I’ll never wrangle these words… they’ll stay
afloat for a while, they’ll dance over my head, beckoning me to capture them
and put them to the page…but most days I won’t, and I will fear the day will
come when my words will fly away forever.
My daughter sleeps next to me. We are on the couch. Earlier she was mad at me and I at her. She cried in my ear (I was trying to watch
her Daddy’s interview), I yelled at her to leave to room (she did). Now I pick her up and rock her in her sleep,
she clings to my neck and doesn’t want me to lay her down on the pillow… wants
me to stay attached to her. Does she
know I’m sorry? Is she reaching out to
me in her subconscious sleep? Maybe she’s sorry too. She missed her Daddy’s interview on account
of her fit. For a moment in uninterrupted sleep, as I rock her and she clings to my
neck, we have made amends and we’ll wake up as though it never happened.
* * *
In 5 days I’m going to Las Vegas. I suppose I am looking forward to it now, but
I have to admit…. I kind of wanted to die being able to say I was never in Las
Vegas. I’d rather spend my time and
money in some sort of natural surroundings instead of a concrete paradise… but
whatever. I’m going and I am excited,
mainly because I get to watch my man in his biggest show yet as he and his band, Bleedingkeys, open for North Mississippi Allstars at the Hard Rock Café.
I find it funny, that last year at this time I was gearing
up to go to Haiti in January and this year I’m gearing up for Vegas. Quite a contrast; though the idea of
traveling to two such opposite places does tickle my fancy I must admit. I love that God can be so out-of-the-box.
A small part of me wants to attempt some sort of compare
and contrast with Haiti and Vegas… Just for fun. I actually visited a resort for a day in Haiti... and
spent the rest of the time either on the compound (working at the clinic or
hanging with kids from the orphanage) or setting up medical clinics in rural
villages.
There were many gems to this trip and you can read about them here. One thing I remember being struck by were the poor people. Before you chide me for making the understatement of the century, allow me to explain. The poor there struck me as
people who did not so much think of their poverty as something to comment on, or
complain about, but rather as a way of life. Simply put: it just was. It's hard to think that people living in poverty have a "way of life"... that though one might be very poor, there are still customs and relationships and games and traditions and laughter and fellowship and happiness...and even gratitude. On Sunday morning, these "poor people" emerged from mud huts and dirt floors with glowing white
dresses and wide brimmed hats. Those who
attended church gave their absolute best to God on Sunday morning, though they had nothing. What a concept.
With that, we will close and revisit this chapter in Vegas...
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