Reflections On Another Night In England.

Again- this is from the Daily Update.  Just ignore some and enjoy. 

Evening.  These days are getting longer and I'm waiting too long to tell you about them, so forgive me for any lack of cohesiveness or style that I might normally try to tack into these emails--- even if my efforts would fall flat on the ground.  

Well- First of all- let me say a big "Welcome" to all of the new folks on the Daily, including a host of English students whom I am quite certain have no idea what they are getting themselves into- even though I did my best to warn them.  Either way- Ellen, Rob, As, Hannah, and Anne- you now join the ranks of Pete and Ash as the Canvas faithful that grace this list.  Thank you for being apart of it.  If you ever have any questions, then please don't hesitate to ask. 

In the meantime, let me tell you about tonight.  

Tonight, I went to "...The Soak" for open mic night.  The name of this place bothers me chiefly because of the ellipses that proceeds the main title of the pub.  When I say the name of the pub, I feel obligated to insert a rather long and pregnant pause before actually getting to the almighty "The".  It is troublesome, to say the least. 

Either way, I was there tonight at The Soak.  I was there in that same pub that I have been to so many times before in my visits here.  All of these times dating back to two years ago, when we knew no one but Caleb and Amos.  When we knew nothing but how we wanted to be here, how we wanted to know those students, how we wanted to be apart of their lives.  

And don't you know that tonight, while each musician straddled the stool to try their best to impress the women standing at the bar that I was taken in by the fact that I was looking into those moments of my past. I was taken in by the woman who sang about finding religion and singing a gospel song.  I thought to myself, "If she only knew the songs that we can sing."  I looked back to those moments two years ago and last year at the pub quiz machine.  I looked back to just a few days ago, sitting at a little table for two and trying to sort through life and in all of her complex patterns and shapes.  I watched as Tom got up there on that stage towards the end and he covered "Kiss From A Rose" and he put my name in the middle of it, just like those old days at the Irish Rover in Salamanca, Spain four years ago.  I listened as he dedicated "Hallelujah" to me and I nearly wept when I remembered those sweet words, those words about a victory march, those words about being cold and broken, and I thought how true and how bitter it is-- and how sweet it can be.  How sweet it can be to have those moments in the pub where I can peer into my not so distant future.  Where I can imagine myself in just a few months, where I can believe in the mystery of what my God, my Father, is going to do for me in this life in the coming months and years.  I found myself praying to God to provide for me over the next several years, because honestly, there are things in this life that I do not have a clue about and I know that we all want God to provide the daily bread and all of that. I know that we want that and we say that, but it is a rare day that I actually need it.  That I can feel like I am talking to God on the phone and I am just about to reach through the receiver and shake him and cry "What in the world are you going to do?" 

It was on a night like tonight, watching all of those new friends sing their sweet lullabies late into the dark that I knew that I did not really have any kind of clue.  And it was also there in The Soak that I knew that it just did not matter.  I will tumble through this darkness until at last we all spill out into some light.  When that happens, I'd love to have you over for dinner to celebrate. 

Tatum.