Saying Yes

I'm sitting here listening to Joe Bonamasso on PBS. Again. 

B3 and I caught the very end of last nights PBS broadcast with Joe and while the credits rolled he said, "Anton Fig - why do I know that name?" and I replied "Letterman. Paul Schaffer's band. He was the drummer." B3 was impressed. Yeah. I know stuff.  

So I was excited when late this afternoon I discovered I could watch the PBS broadcast from the beginning. His music makes me happy. Jazzed. Inspired. THIS is what music should sound like. So while I listen, I'm looking at the seats that are available for his concert in Vancouver in November. And I struck a deal - I pay for the tickets and B3 pays for the travel and accommodation. Yes! While I let his music pour over me, I am also thinking of last Sunday's sermon. On saying YES to God. Saying YES to your calling. Saying YES to your God given gifts. Joe Bonamasso said YES. He opened for B.B. King when he was 12 years old. (Think about what you were doing when you were 12 years old. Right? He answered his call early and well). He's put out more #1 Blues albums than any other artist in history. This is his God given gift - his calling. And I'm so grateful he said YES because I now get to see him in person and be beautifully overtaken by his stunning musical talent. He is steeped, deep and dark into his craft and if you wish to be transported into the gritty and exhilarating world of the Blues, then - at the very least - find him on You Tube and spend 20 minutes just getting a small taste of his talent. 

Like he needs my endorsement. 

I remembered when I first said YES. OK - I'll stop shouting with the all caps...trust me - I'm just using it for emphasis, nothing more.

I said yes one morning when it seemed like God was kneeling before me, looking me in the eye and saying  "I want you to tell your story". I had many objections to that. Who was I that I should share my story? Who would want to read it? And what possible value could it hold? I was afraid that IF (sorry - once again, not yelling)...if - yes if anyone actually read what I wrote, they would just laugh or shake their head at my lame attempts. I imagined this dull thud as my writing hit the pavement hard. So it was a surprise to me when some of what I wrote actually resonatated with others. Particularly the people I didn't really know. I not only felt relief, but I felt privileged. I mean - really, really privileged. I was reminded of that again that Sunday morning when I was sitting next to a faithful soul - who's own story...I mean...her's is a story! But she kindly told me how my way with words meant so much to her. She thanked me for sharing my journey. And it just so happened that I sat with this sainted one on the morning when the sermon was about saying Yes. It reminded me what my calling was. And that, even though I felt ill-equipped and uncertain - or that I had nothing left to say - I just needed to keep saying yes. What is the next story to be told? How does He want me to tell it? 

I'm trying to write another one of my stories. There is great pain involved. The writing of it will likely be a grieving process for me. I've begun writing about it - but I've mostly been writing around it. I have yet to write about the epicentre of this story. This requires me to re-visit. Not to interpret or narrate, but to re-visit and come face to face with the devastation - the immense loss - the theft of my family and the evisceration of my heart - my soul - my identity. 

And I don't want to go there. 

But for my own sake, I need to. Because I know - when I start to write about it - when I can finally begin to express it - I will find healing. To be clear - once I write about it, this problem won't be solved. It won't go away. But I will find God in it in the same way I've found Him in my previous stories. I will find the throbbing, relentless, sweaty, gritty music that transforms the Blues into it's intense, inspirational, pedal-to-the-metal, masterpiece.