The beauty of a little coffeeshop surrounds me.
Music plays from the speakers.
One song, then another for an estimated hour and a half.
We sip chai lattes with whip. Vanilla for my daughter. Spicy with espresso for me.
We chat.
Loop letters onto envelopes and attach stamps and stickers.
Together.
A few locals enter and exit the small-town shop.
They all know the proprietress and several pause for a lengthy chat before leaving, iced coffee or steaming latte in hand.
An older gentleman approaches to place his order for coffee.
“How are you today?” the blonde barista smiles.
His reply floats our way. “Almost perfect.”
My daughter and I grin together at his cheerful optimism.
It is a good day to be alive. The sky holds puff clouds, the sun, bright.
The clock clicks eleven.
We gather pens and paper.
Place our mugs in the “Dirty Dishes” bin.
Prepare to depart.
My daughter heads to purchase a cookie to go.
I sit with the wooden tabletop beneath my elbows.
Familiar notes, voice, and words waft a beginning from the playlist.
Tears prick my eyes instantly.
It’s Mandisa.
“We all bleed the same,” she sings.
Her voice, strong and confident, beautiful, fills the room.
It carries me back.
It’s 2017.
Songs from Mandisa’s Out of the Dark CD reverberate on repeat in my Suburban or in the red radio stuffed in a basket in the corner of my living room.
It was my honor and privilege to review Mandisa’s new CD that May and host a giveaway of another copy on my blog to gift to a comrade friend.
To sit with a slice of her story and hear her perspective. Feel her experience.
I listened to the lyrics a lot all summer. Hummed the melodies. Sang along.
“Out of the Dark” and “The One He Speaks Through.”
“Overcomer” and the “Voicemail Intro.”
Music tells a powerful story.
Music resonates in rich serenade reaching into our souls to otherwise untouched spaces.
Music knits us together.
I miss Mandisa.
I never met her.
Never sat together with her in a pretty little coffeeshop for deep conversation.
She impacted me all the same.
Our embodied experiences, our lived lives, all who are human.
We look different, we are not the exact same, we vary by the myriads.
Yet, we all sit with sadness, stare down hopelessness, meet with misery.
Suffer disappointment, engage with anxiety, and break in a million pieces from shattering grief.
The lyrics lilt around the room.
“Are you black?
Are you white?
Aren’t we all the same inside?
Father, open our eyes to see
We all bleed the same,
We’re more beautiful when we come together,
We all bleed the same.” ~ Mandisa
My daughter returns, cookie in hand, purchase completed. She sings along softly with Mandisa’s music.
I brush the corner of my eye, lift my bookbag.
“Books Make The World More Beautiful.”
It’s chalkboard lettered across the black of my bag.
The notes slip away and the next song queues.
Music also makes the world more beautiful.
Mandisa made the world more beautiful.
Her music will continue to add beauty.
We step into the sunshine.
I pull out my Yukon keys and press unlock.
Mandisa didn’t know my daughter.
Didn’t know me.
Certainly didn’t know she was one whom He spoke through into two lives in a tiny mid-west town.
We constantly intertwine, create impact, cause inspiration.
Sometimes we get to see the part we play.
More often, I believe, we are unaware.
I believe His work pours through us as we go about our everyday.
As we do the thing that comes naturally to us.
The interests that make us come alive.
The details we’re unaware of,
The elements that add beauty and delight, compassion and kindness.
The actions taken to alleviate suffering and take a seat with people who sorrow.
The humble hidden deeds of service done in love. Dull duties performed time and time and time again.
Our lives weaving into the next life. Blending a pattern of perseverance, an arrangement of empathy, a sequence of solace.
The immense beauty of coming together through books or music or Instagram or conferences or coffeeshops or next door driveways or happy mail or a class taught or presence offered.
We fasten our seatbelts. Turn the ignition. The engine rumbles to life.
The day still brims beautiful, clouds whisper by.
Plastic packaging rustles as my daughter removes her cookie.
A quote comes to mind as I muse on music and Mandisa.
“I have found it is the small things; everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keeps the darkness at bay.”
~ Gandalf.
We head toward the beauty of home.
Together.
Beautiful! We are truly entwined by words, thoughts, the internet and in person. Thank you
We are indeed!