I’m sitting at Floydfest Sunday morning at the Internet tent. I’m connected to their wifi on my iPad. I feel like a bit of a heel (though for the record, at least I am sitting outside and not in the tent) and then some dude points at a computer and asks, sans irony, is that the Internet?
I am also watching the ever increasing line for the coffee vendors while I’m drinking my peppermint tea and eating a particularly good breakfast burrito made by a cute hippie chick who called me sugar.
This is the life.
I could say something self righteous like how we should give up creature comforts and such but the truth is I really miss food and beverage when I want it, and the big comfy cot I slept on made me not regret the Show Sherpa service I purchased, and I’m super thankful for the fact that I have a nice home to go to, well two homes until Tuesday. And so I give the masses their comfort and all the relief we can buy.
But what can we give up? To whom much is given, much is required. This phrase runs through my head. I have been so blessed. I know this through and through. Blessings run through my veins and through my heart giving it its beat and rhythm and life and that abundantly. I’ve always felt touched by God in varying degrees from earliest infancy to this very moment. or when lying on the side of a hill with rain pouring down after a hot sweaty day and there’s no point in trying to take cover and who wants to anyway? And an absolute contentment and peace like rain wash over me, like tiny kisses all over my skin telling me how much I am loved and looked after, and it makes me want to fall in love, which is convenient enough being with the one I want to fall in love with, and I don’t want to think about anything else or anyone else and I just keep thinking God is good.
And I know all these things I need to constantly thank God for and give back to Him in praise. Even when the darkness closes in, still I will say, blessed be the Name of the Lord!
And now there’s a bagpipe band leading a parade around the festival which is also very nearly a substitute for church.