House Concert
Over the weeks we prepared for January 18th. We were dilegent to look ahead and plan. The fly by the seat of our pants (our normal tactic) would not work for this. We were preparing to host a house concert for Eric Taylor. A house full of music and people. We pruned and picked and yanked and hauled in the yard. We dusted, scrubbed, tidied, cooked, brewed, folded, collected, and rearranged inside. We sat and made lists and time lines. We planned. We borrowed chairs and a sound system. We set it up in the living room. We made it look cozy and homey and it was just that. By two in the afternoon we were ready for the show.
As the sun sank low, they came flowing in. Faces, mostly new, came. Our goal was to give a night to our guest that was different. Our goal was to make everyone feel like we had planned the event for them. And it worked. And we did it. Lots of BBQ. Lots of slaw. Gallons of homebrew. Gallons of sweet tea. Lots of flickering candles. The children made a weave in and out of new faces and visitors we were so thrilled to see. They danced and listened and cuddled and ate. I watched people soak in Eric's story telling song, his deep, learned voice that leads his listeners into other worlds and lives.
By 8:30, I slipped out the backdoor with tired children. They had been the biggest helpers and were ready to rest their weary bodies. We knew the music would last until morning, so we borrowed a bed at a friends. Back in the morning with coffee and bacon. The out of town guests had stayed through.
Pictures don't work so great for this. Especially with a simple camera. The light is low and the room is packed tight and my hands and feet and mind and voice were constantly on the move.
It was the first of many. We've thought all along this would be a way for us and it is.
As the sun sank low, they came flowing in. Faces, mostly new, came. Our goal was to give a night to our guest that was different. Our goal was to make everyone feel like we had planned the event for them. And it worked. And we did it. Lots of BBQ. Lots of slaw. Gallons of homebrew. Gallons of sweet tea. Lots of flickering candles. The children made a weave in and out of new faces and visitors we were so thrilled to see. They danced and listened and cuddled and ate. I watched people soak in Eric's story telling song, his deep, learned voice that leads his listeners into other worlds and lives.
By 8:30, I slipped out the backdoor with tired children. They had been the biggest helpers and were ready to rest their weary bodies. We knew the music would last until morning, so we borrowed a bed at a friends. Back in the morning with coffee and bacon. The out of town guests had stayed through.
Pictures don't work so great for this. Especially with a simple camera. The light is low and the room is packed tight and my hands and feet and mind and voice were constantly on the move.
It was the first of many. We've thought all along this would be a way for us and it is.
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