Confessions

For the first time in a long time, I felt at peace tonight.

It wasn’t a passing peace, either. It was one that came and whispered, “you’re going to be ok.”

It was a reassuring calm that settled on my soul. It swept over me like the waves of the Atlantic gently caressing the shoreline.

It settled on me like the morning dew.

And it made me smile.

I was driving the back roads of North Carolina and happened upon a small town at dusk. I hadn’t paid much attention to it in my recent wanderings, but something called out to me tonight.

Maybe it was the large crowd of people gathered together listening to live music. Perhaps it was the coffee shop idling on Main Street. Or could it have been the orange hue being cast by the setting sun?

Whatever it was, it called out to me. It beckoned for me to immerse myself. Ashamedly, I argued against it.

It wasn’t an intentional refusing, but rather an instinctive shying away from something new. A hardwired reaction tethered deeply to my soul…One that has kept me from experiencing all that there is this last year.

Deadlines.

Timeframes.

Anxiety.

Schedules.

Meetings.

Go here. Go there. Be present. Move forward.

There really has been no time given towards simply being still. It’s my fault, I know. Perhaps it has been a deliberate moving, an occupying of my fragile mind.

Whatever it may, I gave in to the urge.

“Live.”

I pulled my truck around, searched for a parking spot, and meandered my way into the town square. I could hear the faint rhythm of musical equipment rising above the city shops. I expected to find a bustling city square, but what I stumbled upon took me back.

People were sitting.

Not many were up and about. They were all resting in their lawn chairs in front of a cover band; a regular occurrence for the town, I found out after perusing local flyers.

I stopped by the coffee shop on Main, hoping to see an old friend/co-worker who now runs the place. Unfortunately, he had the night off, but I decided to taste some of his concoctions.

Iced Salted Caramel Coffee…The Barista ever so eloquently corrected my annunciation of “Caramel”, bless her.

My coffee and I were drawn to the live music. The cover band was made up of three elderly gentlemen called “60 Watt Combination”, or something like that. I’m not too sure they knew what to do with themselves in between melodies and riffs because they oft repeated the phrase, “Here in scenic Mocksville.”

I mean, I’ll credit them…It has its qualities, but I enjoy seeing musicians operating out of their comfort zones; when the music has stopped and they can no longer hide behind a guitar. I don’t say that to be mean, but to me, it communicates how deep music speaks.

Sometimes you never even need to say a word to understand what they’ve been through.

Needless to say, these boys liked to party.

The group giving their attention was predominantly comprised of elderly town folk. It was your typical “small town” scene. In between drum kicks, you’d see a hand in the air waving over the newest arrival. Smiling faces and tapping feet dominated the atmosphere.

Then it happened…Something that made me smile ear to ear.

They started dancing.

I watched as four or five ladies rose from their chair, gathered in a circle, and began dancing. At first, I couldn’t quite tell if they were doing a ritualistic seance or just moving whatever limb they thought of, but then I realized…They were line dancing.

I watched as their group moved with the ebb and flow of the 60’s rock music (Odd combination, if you ask me). Slowly, yet surely, others joined the group.

I even saw an older gentleman smack his wife on the rear as she got up to join in. I chuckled…No matter your mileage, I could tell they loved each other. He eventually joined the dancing queens…Smooth.

I glanced over the crowd and found myself feeling peaceful. I looked forward to my future and uncovered a longing for a lifelong partner. It’s always been there, but in recent months and years, it’s been muted. Thriving, but dulled.

I saw couples who had possibly been married 30, 40, maybe even 50 years sitting, resting, enjoying the stillness. Could it be that they’ve lived a life of movement and have finally found rest?

Maybe one day I can be like that. Maybe one day I’ll grab my lawn chair, my wife, grandkids, and I’ll mosey down to the town square to sit with my friends of 40 years. Perhaps we can reminisce on the good ‘ole days, remembering our loved ones, longing to be reunited.

Maybe I’ll be able to look up at the night sky like I did tonight and breathe deeply…Feel the weight release from my shoulders.

I breathed deeply this evening and found myself to be in pain.

My ribs ached from the constant anxiety that weighs on my chest. They’re not used to being stretched that far.

I rolled down the windows of my Chevy S10, cranked the country music, and took it all in. I couldn’t help but sing along and thank God for His mercy.

Am I completely healed? I’m not sure I ever will be, but that’s ok. Maybe I’m not supposed to be.

I’ve been content with my pain, knowing I can do nothing but allow it to run its course. What I experienced tonight was a reprieve…A bit of that pain finding its way out of my soul and into the wide open valleys of North Carolina.

It was a redemptive experience.

There’s freedom in the little things, my friends. Sometimes all that it takes is a small push.

I’m thankful that I made that U-turn tonight because for the first time in a long time, I lived my life.