A week of running very, very hard, and Thanks.

I am, right now, sitting. In a comfy chair, in my house. I don't have to work 'till noon tomorrow, and I don't have anything planned the rest of the night.

It's really a little shocking, and strange, but I might be able to settle into it.

As you might be able to discern: yes, it has been a very intense week. The small moments I had set aside to relax were infiltrated with random anxiety, like the slow leak in my car tire, the inflexibility of my summer work schedule to facilitate its repair, my failure in so many ways to make good on commitments to others. My dreams, the window to my own inner workings, spoke nothing but worry.

And yet, though I walk through it, how should I complain? I was never promised ease, but life, yes. I will never grow if I choose the path of least resistance. Deep, sincere, and completely unsolicited encouragement came to me through many people. My parents (especially my father) turned my car tire around within 12 hours. AND fed me steak for dinner. I had random moments of happiness: taking a new kayak out for its maiden voyage, chirping to a cheeky red-winged blackbird female, finding a message in a bottle. 

With wine still inside. That's legit.

I am thankful for my life.

I am thankful for the two sweet gigs I played this week - one private event as a freelance classical guitarist, one public event as a singer-songwriter. (More details later!)

I am thankful for my friend Shane, who accompanied me to both gigs and took time to learn a couple of my songs, including the Banana Peel Rag, which is a kinduva tricky little tune.

I am thankful for the family and strong friendships in my life, for people who are with you regardless of whether the weather is fair or foul, and maybe regardless of whether you're going crazy and not treating everybody awesomely.

I am thankful for my relationship with God, which is a constant, and which keeps me floating regardless of how well things are going or how I may appear.

I am thankful for a moment of rest, and for grace to let the dishes rot in the sink one more day, and for what's yet on the horizon.