I made one New Year’s Resolution this year. O N E. (I never make New Year’s Resolutions as I am terrible at sustaining anything for much more than a few weeks.)
And what was it? you ask.
Just this—Take one day a week and work on your writing. I’m a writer, I have this blog and I also write poetry. Some discipline in this writing endeavor would help, yes? Yes. In the past, my modus operandi has been to wait for Holy Spirit inspiration to strike and write ‘when I had time.’
This year things would be different.
Every Wednesday afternoon, I’d head to the Library and write for 2-3 hours. Organize writing, begin original pieces, edit things for the blog, whatever, just work on my craft.
Three Wednesdays into my Grand Intention, I drove through the pouring rain, heading to the downtown library. As I parked my car and turned off the engine, I noticed out the front windshield there was a tall woman, clad in day-glo orange waders walking up to a van across from me.
I scuttled through the downpour, umbrella aloft, book bag over my arm and glanced her way. “Seattle Public Utilities” was printed on the side, and the van’s sliding door was wide open. Tools and equipment were hung on racks lining the vehicle and on the floor was a conga drum. Laying on its side. A conga drum.
Needless to say, I did a double take.
The woman was off loading some items, standing a bit to the side of the door.
“Uh, hi,” I said. “So….tell me why there’s a conga drum in your van.”
“Oh, we found it in the River.” (A tributary of the Cedar River flows under our city’s library).
“You found it in the river? Seriously?”
“Yeah, we were surveying and doing some site work for the Public Utilities and dredged it up.”
I couldn’t hide my interest in the instrument. “Wow, what’re you going to do with it?”
“We were just gonna take it to the Goodwill, but you can have it if you want it. I could put it in the back of your car.”
I was simultaneously trying to keep my cool while jumping up and down inside, telling myself to keep it together.
I would love it!” I said. “Thank you SO much!” Then she graciously hauled it into the back of my car.
And just like that, I ended up with a 3 foot high conga drum (with a built-in stand attached), drenched in river water but without a speck of damage, given to me by a stranger in the parking lot of the Library one pouring-down-rainy day.
You know those little prayer/dreams you pray/think about, the impossible, ‘this is too small to bother God with’ ones? They’re at the back of your mind, hidden under the layers of Everything Serious that Makes Sense, rarely surfacing.
I had a dream like that. “One day I want a djembe drum.” A djembe (‘gem-bay’) is an African hand drum that sits on the floor and is played with the palm and heel of one’s hand. I learned to play one two years ago at our Women’s Retreat and found, lo and behold, I rock at percussion. I can actually sing, play an instrument and keep the beat AT THE SAME TIME. Like a real musician.
But seriously, it’s not like percussion instruments are in our household budget. So I just sorta told Jesus, “I would love to have a hand drum some day,” and left it at that. Maybe it wasn’t even a real prayer, more like a, “gosh, it would be awesome if….” thought. And here was God, giving me the answer–a hand drum of my very own. I still can’t believe it.
What little dream are you holding today?
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