Blues on the Mall

So, since I am now residing in my home in Michigan, this blog may turn into a random jumble of my thoughts rather than informing you on my latest misadventure in Central America. I think that sometimes I have such a overflow of one thing in my brain that, if I have no one to tell or talk to about it then I have to write it down somewhere, and this might just be the place, whether its read or not doesnt really matter that much.

Here in Grand Rapids, starting in June usually, there is this thing called Blues on the Mall. Its always on Wednesday nights at Rosa Parks circle which is swing dance/lunch/outdoor concert venue by summer, and skate rink by winter. This is where people of all shapes and sizes and colors and characters gather to listen to some damn good blues music. Where the guitar cords riple through the air with their bluesy twang, and the old timers that are decked out in their old tie die and Harley Davidson leather jackets sunglasses and white beards, shimmy and jive to the music. As I sat and listened to Vasti Jackson in a too small area of downtown that was packed with people that varied so much in character you just had to laugh.

At one end of the spectrum, you have your reminiscers- the wealthier looking folks in their yacht racing shirts bumping shoulders with the homeless, slightly smelly and drunk guys who have been doing drugs for much too  long to have a normal brain process. There are also the Harley Davidson guys that gather with their wives or girlfriends, and whose life is almost tattooed on their face- I actually saw a couple decked out in Harley gear, skinny as rails and probably missing teeth dancing together. Not grinding in an awkward, old kind of way, but the classic hand holding and swaying type of deal. It was almost too cute, I could have puked, but I refrained. This was almost as shocking to me as when I was in Costa Rica and went to church for the first time and a man came in also in full leather with his bike helmet in hand, just walked right up to the front and started tuning his flute to play during the service. Quite the contradiction eh?
Speaking of cute, there was also this tiny little boy in the front standing on the railing with his little fau-hawk and bouncing up and down in his own version of dancing.

Its almost 2:30am... I should at least give myself a chance to sleep at some point. I am praying that God would break my heart for what breaks his and not the trivial and meaningless things that will mean nothing in the larger picture of the Kingdom of heaven. The kingdom of which, is so much larger than any of us could ever imagine it would be. What a useless creature I am. What are feelings for if not to break you down so that God can build you up again to be the person He wants you to be? All in His timing all in His timing, all in His timing.