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February 24, 2007 |
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The alarm went off and we woke up. Evan sat up in bed and looked out the window as he usually does, just to make sure that it really is morning and time to get up (because little boys sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and they learn that they have to go back to sleep if the sun is not up yet.) "Mama, where is our tree?" he asked. It was Ash Wednesday and the fog was so thick we couldn't see the tree in our front yard. It was the first day of our Lenten Tour. Our first concert was at the Lebanon Correctional (Level 3 State Prison). A few hours later, I laid in bed with a nasty flu as Matthew took Evan and Blais to their Gymboree class. He called to say that the prison might have to cancell the concert because no one is allowed in or out of the building if the fog doesn't lift. There hasn't been a fog this thick in the past 16 years. But, as usually happens when your life's work relies on prayers, the fog lifted, I "Theraflu-ed" myself out of the fever and achiness as much as it was possible without knocking myself completely out, Denny's connecting flight finally took off and Mari Thomas (our fantastic neighbour and an amazing violinist), covered for Janel who would meet us in Weeling, WV on Thursday. And what a perfect begining of our tour that was - in a chapel full of men, some very young, some older, all of them there because of what they did in some moment of weakness, a moment in which they were detached from God and overtaken by anger or greed, or whatever other ugly instinct. They all stood up as I sang "Kyrie Eleison, Lord Have Mercy on me" At the end, I promised them I would pray for them on this tour. I asked them to sing with me. It was tremendously powerful: 200+ men singing "Amazing Grace" in their stern, masculine voices, with chilling sincerity. Those men need to be telling their stories to the kids on the streets. And they need to show their faith to so many out there who walk freely but their souls are imprisoned by much deeper captivity - the captivity of darkness, greed and self-servitude.
It's Saturday. I feel a little bit better. We are staying in St. Clairsville, OH at our friends' house. The boys are having fun playing with our hosts' daughters so I can rest. I look out the window at the big open sky and rolling hills. Freedom is so real. Inside of me and outside. And it's incredible that a tiny, microscopic virus can hold me captive! |
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