I've learned something.

Recently, I have had the opportunity to go busking. If you are unsure what that is... thats fine. Look below for a definition:

The funny thing is, that I am actually petrified of being listened to or watched while I play. I am truly and introverted being. I've gone twice, with great success both times. Its hard though becuase I know some very beautiful musicians (boys) who are more skilled than I, who make substantially less money.

I know that women have an unfair advantage in this arena. I simply have to look pretty and catch some drunken man's eye to get a few dollars in the hopes that I'll find him attractive, or think that he is wealthy, or x,y,z. I sit and stare on the street corner late at night when I go and it sucks because to see so many women throw themselves at men (much like how I go out and offer myself through music) with their bodies. It feels sometimes like we prostitute ourselves. I do it with my guitar and they wear their kitten heels. We both hope to get validation and acceptance for who we are made to be, albeit from the wrong audience. It just seemed so lost and hopeless down there. Neither me, or the girl with the killer heels or the girl who literally sells her body is much different. It makes me sad thats is how it is.

That is not to say that it is actually hopeless. As cheesy as this was, my friend Kyle (yes the one who made me so mad) was there, and openly sang about faith. That really helped me I think right at that point where I was brokenhearted for the people down on Market.

Some fun pictures of busking:

This is just weird...

This is glorified busking...

Actually... I am not sure why Mr. Rod Steward showed up when I googled "Busking"... But look how classy he is!

Good. Day.

Today was a good. day. The day started off with an encouraging not from a friend... but then got better. The traffic lights seemed to change as I approached the intersection, my spedometer worked, I even got to take the Gator for a spin today. (The Gator is the large green tractor/cart that Facilities drives around... It goes around 35mph which is awesome.) My friend Melanie was able to get a hold of the RTD Lost and Found... and they found her stuff! Today was a good. day.

Even in the middle of the day, when I shelled out some hard earned money for a guitar, it was a good. day. You see there is a lot attached to owning my own guitar. Its not just a thing that I bought. I taught myself guitar about 3years ago. I learned even though this boy named Ian said I couldn't. I learned in-spite of the fact that I didn't know anything about strumming patterns or chords. It took me 2 years to figure out how to move my hands so I didn't make a wonky sound. It took me another to learn to alter strumming within a song. I am not just starting to learn how to pick out a song. Its been really challenging, and something that I am very proud that I know how to do.

I have been borrowing a guitar from a good friend of mine... A really nice, pretty guitar. Something that looks like this:

As you can see, its beautiful. I have been very blessed. And so, when buying my own guitar, thats a big deal, because I don't usually own nice things. Buying something like a guitar is something that really means to me: "I can play guitar. I can be proud that I have this skill and have worked hard enough to validate buying my own. I am worth this purchase."

So when I bought the exact same guitar, for a lot cheaper than buying it new, I was floored. It is the exact thing that I want. I don't think that even a Taylor would make me happier.

It wasn't until this stupid boy who I work with said one, little sentence (twice) that I was sunk. He must have played my guitar, or looked at it but the moment I walked in from lunch this was our conversation.

Him: "How much did you pay for it?"

(Never a good question I've learned)

Me: "Does it matter?"

(I don't like placing monetary value on things that I'm emotionally attached to.)

Him: "YOU WERE RIPPED OFF."

Me: "No its exactly what I wanted."

Him: "YOU WERE RIPPED OFF."

Wow. It took 3 tiny words to drag this holy grail though the dirt and spit on it. That hurt so bad. It didn't even register to him, that maybe I didn't get ripped off. It didn't register that there might be more to this whole thing than he realized. Man, I don't even think that he cared when it was obvious that what he said was hurtful. This beautiful, validating event was now made low by the thing that was said. Not only did I make a wrong choice, I was stupid and wasteful for that choice. Wow. I just felt so raw.

When I got home about an hour ago, I was still feeling pretty awful about the whole purchase so I decided to play a little so I could figure out why it was such a rip off. So I tuned my guitar and sat down on my floor. The moment I started playing, the sound of the gently strummed strings lit up my heart. The sound I was producing became the most beautiful thing in the world to me. Not only had I learned to persevere in something, I had come so far as to get my own instrument. That was a mountain I finally summited. And I'm smiling as I realize that today, is still a good. day. Its not about the guitar. Thats just something to buy. Its the pride of knowing that God has given me the strength and will to keep doing something hard and impossible. It is the glory of the One to teach me and to humble me. It is the love of the One who redeems all, and encourages me in spite of being brought down low. It wasn't just a thing. It is a small triumph.

the Meal

So, as a continuation on my discourse of freedom... I need to give an up date of sorts. I have a friend that I had commented on, who was in chains. Recently she has experienced freedom. Not a little glance, but full on, over the top, head to toe liberation. We talked a little about it and she emanated joy.

As she spoke, I noticed that the language she used was not that of a conquerer, but that of a slave. It made me think of Romans 6:18 when Paul writes, "You have been set free from sin and have become slaves to righteousness". Freedom became not something to be afraid of, or to deny, but it became something completely necessary and unavoidable. This brings me to my thought, that those who have been called to be free, those who are offered freedom and whispered to by the Spirit of freedom, are drawn irresistibly to drink that Wine and eat that Bread.

If we don't stuff cotton in our ears and can hear the sound, I believe that we can all partake of grace. We can truly digest Christ as he offers himself to us. A deeply impactful metaphor, if we have been denying ourselves sustenance. He offers us life, as food. Commands us not to refrain, but to tear into the Meal. For he gives the meal freely and fully. That is the freedom that we experience.

Christ calls us to a life of freedom. Albeit, freedom in a yoke.

A Short Story

Once upon a time there was a little girl who thought she was very strong. She worked very hard to convince everyone she knew, that this was true. She would climb trees and pick up heavy rocks. She would try to have the best arguments and the friendliest smile. She tried so hard to make everyone think she was strong, that she forgot she had any weakness.

One day a boy came along. This boy knew she was strong. He didn't try to compete, and just left the girl alone. The girl was astonished that someone would let her be who she was. And she grew to like the boy. The boy, however, didn't understand the power he had in choosing this path. Soon, he said and did things to make the girl sad, without even trying to. And the girl was reminded of her weakness.

The girl did not die. That would be silly. She stood up straight and told herself that there would someday be someone who saw how strong she was, and also how weak she could be. And there was hope for tomorrow.

Snail Mail

So recently I've found this website, where you find people online and send them mail. Hopefully they send something back. Its quite the idea really. I havent gotten anything yet... Although the website portrays itself as wanting others to do acts of kindness for others through the mail, so far the profiles look really selfish. Its all, "I like this", "send me this", &etc.Even yours truly is mostly hoping to receive and not give. I just sent out 5 pieces of mail, I'll have to see what happens.

Hopefully no one sends Anthrax.