Joy Overcomes Sorrow

Truth: I have cried a great deal over the last three days. I have felt hopelessness. I have felt sorrow, a deep sorrow. In the middle of this hopelessness and sorrow, I know that G-d was right there with me and I know that God’s heart broke with mine. Just as my tears flowed, I know that Jesus wept.

Today, I decided that I would seek joy, that I would embrace the very people that are being rejected, that I would stand alongside them, in the midst of them and just breathe; being present to people. So I did two things:

1) I went to Paisley Park. This is Prince’s recording studio/sanctuary/home in Chanhassen, MN. When I walked in the gentleman at the door said to me, “Oh, you are going to love this. This is going to mean the world to you. I can see it in your eyes.” He continued to tell me that what he saw in my eyes was something different than any person that walked through that door today.  It was an utter joy and he could see that I knew I was walking on holy ground. It was holy ground because if Prince was nothing else, he was someone who knew who he was and embraced it as best he could, living a meaningful faith that he shared with the world. I cried a bit in this place, but not tears of sorrow. 

2) While I was in Minneapolis for meetings, it also happened to be Pride weekend. Today, I went to The Pride Festival. I did this alone. I took time to listen to people I did not know about their businesses, their stories, and their lives. I had the privilege of listening and the honor speaking words of love and encouragement (a drastic difference from the hate-filled sign holders standing on the outside). I spoke with LGBTQ persons of faith who have been harmed deeply by others and yet have not given up hope in Jesus. And I spoke with some who have been harmed deeply by others and blame Jesus.  I am certain that I walked through this festival with that same look of awe in my eyes as I did walking through the doors of Paisley Park.

Today I sought out holy ground, the ground that Jesus would have sought out had he been there. And it was there that I saw Jesus and it was there that joy overcame sorrow and hope began to silence hopelessness.

I do not have all the answers to the questions of life, but I know the answers, whatever they are, must be rooted in love, if they are to be valid.  We are called to love G-d with all we got and to love people...all people.  I just want to do that. I want to love passionately, unconditionally.  I want the world to know me and my G-d for love. Lord, help me love more deeply, care more passionately, and listen more intensely.  Open me up to your world that you so desperately love.  

I dream differently to jazz

Last night after a very long but blessed business trip, I climbed aboard the plane at PDX and found my seat. I was looking forward to this four hour flight that was ahead of me. I don't sleep much but enough usually, over this trip deep sleep escaped me.

A gentleman sat down next to me and well, I've never met a stranger. He stood out entering the plane because the stewardesses made a big deal about space. He and his friends were spread all over the plane but they all came carrying instruments, having to store them in the very back. 

As I prepared myself for the long flight, adjusting my jacket, getting my earbuds ready and detangled, I asked him how he reclined his seat. Being new to this airline I couldn't figure out how to do it. Turns out it took extra effort for me anyways since the lever was under the seat and you had to simultaneously pull the lever and push back with your back. With my vertical challenges and short arms, reclining seat turned out to be quite an amusing sight for all around. 

I asked this gentleman what instrument he played and if he was from Portland. He wasn't, but he played the trombone. Jazz was his trade. Tired as I was, I thanked him for his help and asked him one more question: "If I were to find one  Jazz artist on Apple Music to listen to for the flight who should I find?" After a moment of consideration his response was - Brad Mehldau. 

I looked him up. This Brad guy is a pretty prolific artist, so the gentleman picked an album for me. I laid back, closed my eyes and drifted off with my pink pillow wrapped snugly around my neck.

If you meet me, I might randomly ask you for an album to listen to. It keeps my musical life diverse. 

Music speaks to my soul. I'm a feeler. I feel everything deeply. I gave up memorizing music, albums, or who sings what a long time ago because I am also a thinker. My mind goes a mile a minute and inconsequential things are left to the side as I process, which to the horror of some and the joy of others I am an external processor. I talk things out. I write things out. Too some that means I talk too much. I guess, music joins me in the conversation and speaks to the deepest parts of my soul. 

No, I'm not going to tell you my dreams because you wouldn't understand, but I will tell you that I dream differently to jazz. Something in my soul listened intently while my eyes and my mind rested and I danced in my seat. 

I awoke as we were landing and I thanked this gentlemen. "Thank you for picking the soundtrack to my dreams."

He looked at me strangely, thought about it, then giving a twinkling smile said, "Ha! You're welcome!"  

Knowing that the man next to me was not the man on the album cover he had chosen, I asked him if he played music like that and he said no, his was a little different. Turns out I was sitting next to a pretty prolific jazz artist in his own right! And I dream differently to jazz.