A Voice of Hope

Let There Be Light!

I just got home from an incredible weekend at Women of Faith in Atlanta. This year's theme was Infinite Grace. We cannot go anywhere or through anything in this life that His grace does not cover us and give us strength to endure. He gives us exactly what we need when we need it.

Patsy Clairmont told this story about how God's grace breathed courage into a friend of her's. As I listened I thought about a dear friend of mine who is courageously waging her own war with breast cancer right now. I pray that God speaks these words over her life as well. Let there be Light!

Living The Real Thing

Sometimes I miss Southern California. The last 24 hours I've had several bad bouts of SoCal homesickness.

Some friends from Mosaic called me last night. One friend is visiting from Oklahoma and three others gathered at the home of a fourth, where the first was staying (got all that?), to hang out and visit with the long-lost friend. My name came up and someone got the cool idea to call me and let me in on some of the fun. I loved it!! I got to talk to each one for a bit, even though some of them were distracted by children and cooking "issues," (clean that oven yet, Deb?) and it was so, so good to hear their voices. I miss their fellowship.

Then today, after some good fellowship with new friends from church, I wandered into the Disney Store and got huge pangs of SoCal-homesickness again. I miss Disneyland! Most of all I miss the ability to just go down there whenever I want (I used to have the premium annual pass; the one with no black-out days) and just soak up the atmosphere. While historic Franklin has some of that Main Street feel, it just isn't the same as the Disney version. Sad, isn't it; how often we prefer fantasy to reality?

That's something I'm realizing more and more these days: how often in my life I traded in reality for a fantasy of my own making, choosing to live inside my head instead of in the moment. My grammar school teachers called it "daydreaming," but fantasizing is a much truer definition. I wasn't just idly passing the time, I was escaping reality, which was either too boring or too painful to stay connected to. So I created a different life for myself in my head, complete with a different family, home and even city. I started this habit so young I can't even remember a time in my life when it wasn't a part of my day. It got to the point that I didn't know how to live completely and always "in the moment." I still don't.

But I'm learning.

And what I'm discovering on a daily basis is that Life is so much sweeter than I ever fantasized it to be! Not easier -- because everything in my fantasies was that easy-hard where the sweat is just as fake as the "reality" it comes from -- No, not easier. Just sweeter. There is a richness, a deep richness to Life that only comes when you are truly present in every moment intimately connected with Jesus that cannot be adequately described, or understood, apart from reality.You cannot create this amazing---how do I call it??? --- this amazing depth and fullness of life in your head; you cannot imagine it even if you have the creative genius of a thousand Lucases and Spielbergs. I've at times been accused of dwelling too much on the pain I experienced four years ago when my parents died and my team fell apart and my dreams disintegrated before my eyes. But the thing is, it's not the pain I dwell on, it's how God met me in the midst of that pain and made life so incredibly sweet. Oh so sweet!! Even though I was in agony, Life was so full and rich and sweet. And still is. Still! You cannot create that. Only God can do that. He started me down a new path and into a new life during that time, and I wouldn't trade any of it for all the world. It showed me just how good Life really is when you spend it staring into the Eyes of Jesus. Oh, God I am blessed!

Last night after I said my goodbyes to my friends, I didn't hang up. I stayed on the line and just listened to the fellowship of old friends as the receiver was carried (apparently across the room) to its cradle. What an amazing experience! It was like I was there in person, just listening to the various conversations and watching these wonderful friends enjoy each other's company. Once the connection was severed and the line went dead I felt deep pangs in my heart. I miss the fellowship of these friends. They are amazing, beautiful, dynamic God-dreamers who so often inspire me and fill my heart with warmth and goodness.

It would be so easy for me to romanticize our time together, re-framing it in my head as perfect and holding it up as a comparison to which all my current and future communities of faith must measure up. It's what I've all too often done throughout my life, compared the present to a romanticized past and found the former severely lacking. But that's just as much living in a fantasy as my "daydreams" were. While the times these amazing friends and I had together were God-ordained, they were far from perfect. We argued and fought and hurt each other, we stumbled over our own brokenness, and struggled with our own issues and insecurities. We made each other cry and shout, and not necessarily in good ways, and we didn't always forgive or admit wrong-doing. And if we were to spend more than 24 hours cooped up together, even after so long apart, I'm sure we'd all walk away frustrated by silly little annoyances that totally grated on our nerves to the point of distraction.

Sitting in the silence after that wonderful phone call I had to remind myself of these things; I had to go back in my mind and remember some of the bad times and hard times to bring myself back into a balanced perspective. No matter how much I miss them or how dear they are to my heart, their's is not the only sweet fellowship I have ever had or will ever have in my life. God has other friends in waiting for me, some of whom He "conveniently" arranged to have invite me to lunch today so that I could experience the truth that my quota of friends isn't filled yet. There will be more "e'spose your toes" groups, more amazing song-writing sessions with talented musician friends, more four-friends-singing-groups, more New Year's Eve drop-in parties, more middle of the night conversations that last till dawn, more sweet fellowship with amazing God-dreamers. Isn't He amazing?

And Disneyland? Well, Main Street is just an airplane ride away. And anyway, Fantasyland is fun to visit, but I don't want to live there anymore.

PS -- this is me not long after coming back from overseas in 2003. Not sure why the Rippys let me play with a sharp object... From the look on my face, that wasn't exactly the wisest decision they've ever made. ;)

PPS -- I stole this picture from Ron's MySpace page. Sshhh!! Don't tell him.

Being Bing

My friend Bing has just landed in Moldova for a year of serving God in whatever capacity He needs -- working with orphanages, mentoring young girls, and all manner of other ways. She graduated from Belmont University this spring and while most of her (former) classmates are settling into their new careers and getting used to a descent paycheck, Bing is half-way around the world working for Jesus and living off donations from fellow Followers.

Bing's heart is bigger than Russia and she fills it up completely with people. She loves all shapes, sizes, colors and kinds -- but especially little people (we call them "children"). She's also incredibly intelligent -- brilliant, really -- and very witty and charming. You just can't help but fall in love with her the moment you meet her. She is A-mazing.

Bing's been to Moldova multiple times (our church has yearly trips; this year there were a record 65 people on the three teams that served two weeks in three cities in Moldova) but started feeling God tugging on her heart to spend a year there earlier this year. I am so excited and so proud of her for taking this huge step of faith and following Jesus to this little corner of eastern Europe. I know God is going to blow her mind with all He does while she's there. I can't wait to hear about it all!!

Do me a favor... check out her fresh new blog and maybe leave her a quick encouraging comment -- and then add her to your blog reader, or weekly blog reading list. You will not be disappointed, I promise.

The Stalker In Me

I could so easily become a stalker. I've figured out many of the in-and-outs of "Googling" someone and checking those background report sites without actually having to pay the $50 to get a report. I don't have great success with really common names like John Smith. But I don't do too bad, if I do say so myself.

Yesterday a friend I haven't seen or heard from in several years came to my mind and just stayed there. The desire to hear from her and know what's up in her life became so strong I not only sent an email to her last known email addy, but I Googled her as well. Let me just say, she has a very common Asian name. I didn't realize how common till I googled it. And got about as many pages as I might for "John Smith". Whoa. And yet...

Within the first few pages I was able to find a blog of someone who had my friend's name all over it. The guy recently moved to Asia and my friend (and former roommate), true to her amazingly generous spirit and major gift of hospitality, greeted him with open arms and showed him all around the city. There were even pictures of my friend! Not only that, but the reason I found the blog to begin with is because another friend of ours from Los Angeles was also named: as my old friend's (now) roommate. It was a dead give-away. Otherwise, I would have been searching through hundreds of pages of search results. Not the way I wanted to spend my evening.

The coolest thing is that my friend is back in Asia. She had come home from the same city a few years ago because her job had ended. There was a guy she'd dated off and on before leaving LA and now he wanted to try again. They were going to spend the holidays with his family in 2005 and that's the last I heard. But that's not unusual for my friend; neither she nor I are the greatest at keeping in touch with people (why do you think I have a blog???), so I never thought too much about not hearing from her regularly. I figured eventually we'd catch up. Although, I do have to admit shock when I realized just how long it has been (since early 2006). I usually try to check in with people once a year, at least.

Anyway, my friend and another friend of ours, who was longing very much to move to the city in which they now live, are apparently sharing an apartment. It's obvious by reading the blog posts of the author -- who is not someone I know, but looks very familiar; I'll bet anything I knew him back at Mosaic LA -- that my two girlfriends are doing great things for Jesus, building wonderful relationships with people and having a wonderful time. I know my friend well enough to know when her smile is forced and when its genuine. It's all real. And the smile on our other friend's face is, well, priceless. She looks like a little kid at Disneyland for the first time.

I cannot tell you how excited all this made me feel! My friend back overseas in the thick of living life for Jesus; doing exactly what she loves and has wanted to do for years, and in a city and culture that desperately needs Him. I'm so proud of her for doing it and for what she's accomplishing. Not only that, I'm so excited to see pictures of her that are only two months old. She looks amazing! I think that's what happens to you when you live the life God dreams for you. Your whole countenance changes.

Anyway, back to me (because it is all about me, you know). Now I have a sticky dilemma. I don't want to email my friend (again), even though I'm dying to tell her how proud and happy I am that she's back in Asia and that she looks absolutely terrific. I'm too embarrassed!  I don't want to admit I was "stalking" her on the Internet with the help of Google.

So, like, how far gone am I, anyway? Is it time to call the cops on myself yet...?

Cabana Night

Tonight/this morning I had my first official initiation to the Nashville club scene, complete with drinks bought by a stranger new friend acquaintance. I stuck to diet coke as I was the designated driver for the evening (my first initiation to the bar scene in town was my first couple of weeks here when I went honky tonkin' along lower Broad).

The place was Cabana, a very popular hot spot for those who want to see and be seen (not my kind of scene), with a stop at Sunset Grill for Midnight Nachos. The occasion was my friend Sarah's 21st birthday. We had a great time! She was so excited to finally get her first legal drink in Nashville she could hardly contain herself (she spent last summer in school in London and had her first official legal drinks of her young life in a very cool old London pub).

I'm not into the bar/club scene. I've never enjoyed going someplace where the music (or acoustics) is too loud to hear the person that's screaming in your ear and where the main source of entertainment is alcohol. I'm not into the honky tonk scene here, either, even though there is incredible music to be had, because I can't stand the drunk guys that try so hard to hit on me but are so drunk that all they end up doing is spitting beer in my face as they try to form their words. Blech. Tootsies is cool once or twice. After that it's just too loud, too smelly and too crowded. I'd rather sit on the porch of Jack's Bar-B-Que and watch the Ryman alley traffic.

But Sarah was having a ball! She was just so excited to be 21 (remember that feeling?? Ah youth...). I had a great time watching her. I swear I think every guy in the place wanted to buy her a drink. She is too cute for words. Look out Nashville!

There Are No Orphans of God

Who here among us has not been broken
Who here among us is without guilt or pain
So oft’ abandoned by our transgressions
If such a thing as grace exists
Then grace was made for lives like this

Tonight I went to see a movie starring one of my favorite actresses. Judi Dench has been somewhat a hero of mine for a long time. I don't know exactly what it is -- her inner strength, perhaps, that shines through every performance, her wit, her talent, her striking beauty, especially at an age when many women just start falling apart,  her class, her power to captivate no matter how small a role she's playing... Perhaps all of it. I want to be like her when I grow up. Or at least look like her.

Notes on a Scandal gave me a different Judi Dench than I expected; one that disturbed me throughout the film, then left me speechless and in awe of her talent afterward. She plays a discomfiting, complex woman with exquisite deft and with incredibly unflinching humanity. Her character, Barbara, could easily have become a caricature of a crazy spinster, but never does.  She is both frightening and at the same time intriguing. Just about the time you think you've got her figured out as the crusty spinster with a soft maternal inside, her behavior turns bizarre and alarming. Just as quickly, she returns to her matronly role, just long enough for you to believe her deviant behavior was an aberration, then she does it again. I'm telling you, disturbing.

I have a struggle with movies like this these days. Being a single-never-married woman in my early 40s, I walk a precarious path between becoming, if only in my own eyes, a truly pitiable old spinster, complete with cat and orthopedic shoes, or grabbing the first man that comes along and settling for a loveless, joyless marriage just so I won't be alone. It takes a lot of strength, courage and tenacity to stay on the path I'm on and wait for God's best.  Any film delving into the life of a "spinster" delves into my own fears as well. Barbara's struggle was with acute loneliness; the agony of a life without true intimacy and human touch. Its a struggle I am all too familiar with.  I've felt that agony many times in my life.  It drives many people to seek intimacy through sexual encounters, where ever and how ever they may come.  Thank God it's driven me into the arms of God, the arms of Jesus, my Beloved. He has met my deepest needs for intimacy, far better than any man could.

There are no strangers
There are no outcasts
There are no orphans of God
So many fallen, but hallelujah
There are no orphans of God

As I drove home tonight, I wept as I allowed my own fears of becoming a spinster to stand up and say their peace. I've spent most of my life shoving my feelings down, ignoring them, denying them or telling them to shut up rather than acknowledging them and letting them have a moment.  I'm slowly learning that the only way to deal with my fear is to face it, let it speak, and then to look at Jesus and say, "now what? Help me."  So that's what I did tonight.

This song, Orphans of God, by Avalon began playing. I got their CD, Stand, yesterday and it's been playing in my car ever since.  I wish I could play the song for you here, or at least provide a link to an mp3 file you could listen to. It's a powerful song I first heard at the Women of Faith conference in Charlotte last year.  It's especially meaningful to me because ever since my parents died in 2003 I've felt like an orphan. All my siblings are married with kids of their own. The only real family of my own I had were my parents. With them gone, I feel -- well, family-less. I realize that in reality I'm not, but have you ever noticed that feelings just don't give a damn about reality? They are what they are and they make no apologies and no concessions for anyone or anything, especially reality.

Come ye unwanted and find affection
Come all ye weary, come and lay down your head
Come ye unworthy, you are my brother
If such a thing as grace exists
Then grace was made for lives like this

As I'm listening to this song and pouring out my fears to God, He just wraps His arms around me and listens.  Slowly, quietly I start realizing that the life I saw played out for the last two hours was a life without God. It was a life of desperation driven by our insatiable need for community and intimacy; a life that never responded to the daily brush of God's Spirit upon her own. It's what happens to each of us when we choose to ignore those soft, persistent caresses, the whispered "I love you"s. Eventually we stop noticing His touch, we stop hearing His whispers. It just becomes part of the background noise of our lives, while our pain and our lonliness takes centerstage.

Even those of us who are connected to God, who are followers of Jesus, devoted, faithful, even strong --even we can get so wrapped up in our pain that we don't notice His touch and His whispers. I've been in such pain and depression, in such darkness in my own soul that I could not see my hand in front of my face. Sometimes my pain, and often times my fear, was so strong that God's presence became just background noise. I could barely distinguish His caresses on my spirit from the searing pain in my heart. And His whispers were lost in the roar of agony. I remember one time, Easter Sunday 2004, finally wailing and screaming to Him, "NOW is the time! You said You would rescue me at the appointed time. Well, that time is NOW. I need you NOW. Come NOW. I cannot do this anymore. Come NOW!"

There are no strangers
There are no outcasts
There are no orphans of God
So many fallen, but hallelujah
There are no orphans of God

He came. With smoke in His nostrils and consuming fire shooting from His mouth, He came and rescued me. I'm not kidding. I saw it as clearly as if with my physical eyes. I saw it. He came roaring out of the heavens and scattered and routed my enemies -- those accusing voices, the screaming fears, the blistering agony of abuse and loss -- just as Psalm 18 describes. Then He knelt beside me and said, "I'm hear, baby. I'm here. We'll get through this day." I was raw with pain, but I wasn't alone. I never was. And I never will be. He walked with me through that day, and every day since. Including tonight, as my fear got in my face and I let it say its peace.

I think of some of the people I know who are in such pain. I think of the hurtful words I've read from people in terrible pain, striking out at those who caused their suffering, not even realizing how hurtful their words are. My heart aches for each person involved. There are followers of Jesus all over the world struggling to hear God's whispers, unable to distinguish between the caresses of God and the searing pain of their own soul, in desperate need for God to come roaring out of heaven and scatter their enemies, who feed on them like vultures. 

O blessed Father, look down upon us
We are Your children, we need Your love
We run before Your throne of mercy
And seek Your face to rise above

Our pain can lead us to believe we are orphans; that God has abandoned us and we are alone in our fight for justice, for peace.  But sometimes feelings lie. They don't tell the whole truth of what is happening.

God is already at work, fighting for us, scattering our enemies, putting right what went wrong. He longs to spread a healing balm on our wounds, and cradle us in His strong arms until our tears are spent and we finally find rest. But He won't force Himself on anyone, even His Own.

There are no strangers   
There are no outcasts   
There are no orphans of God   
So many fallen, but hallelujah   
There are no orphans of God   

I wish I could take away the pain I see written in all the words of so many hurting people! But I cannot. They cry out for justice and recompense, and they are ready to fight to get it. I don't know that their actions will accomplish anything more than creating more hurt and pain, but I could be wrong. Only God knows these things. I only know I cannot give them what they long for. Only God can. All I can do is cry out to my Beloved, "NOW is the time! You said You would rescue Your people at the appointed time. Well, that time is NOW. They need you NOW. Come NOW!" And then watch Him act.

There are no strangers   
There are no outcasts   
There are no orphans of God   
So many fallen, but hallelujah   
There are no orphans of God

"Orphans of God" written by Twila LeBar and Joel Lindsey, sung by Avalon

Defaming in the name of Christ?

May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you a spirit of unity among yourselves as you follow Christ Jesus, so that with one heart and mouth you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. -- Romans 15:5-6

I came across a blog today that grieves and saddens me. I've seen its kind before. Someone, or a group of someones, hurt by the actions of a brother or sister in Christ, or a church staff, or a group within the church, puts up a blog to air their grievances and give others a chance to do the same in the comments section.  Once or twice, these become a place where healing is the goal and bitterness does not go unchecked. But more often than not, these blogs end up as nothing more than a place of condemnation for the pastor or staff member at fault for the pain.  It becomes a chance for anyone hurt by that person or group of people to defame them under the pretense of "telling their story." Sadly, the blog I found this morning is the latter kind.

I know the pain of emotional and spiritual injury at the hands of another, especially injury caused by a friend. Its sting carries venom powerful and deadly. Only the compassionate, gracious, all-consuming love of God can heal that kind of wound and restore health to the soul.  Even then it leaves a scar.

Emotional/spiritual injury by a pastor can be worse. A friend of mine says that pastors are also a "dad" to their church.  It's not a role they want, or seek. Nor is it a role we consciously put upon them. Its just that we all naturally end up looking to our pastor to fill a father-like role in our lives; leading, guiding, counseling, loving, appreciating, paying attention to us, knowing us. We want to be known by our pastors, and recognized as valuable, valued and worthy of love. All the things we want from our fathers. When a pastor doesn't live up to that expectation, unconscious or not, especially in a time of need, it feels like the worst kind of betrayal, that of a parent.  If we're already suffering from major "daddy issues", and most of us are, that betrayal can cut to the heart of who we are and devastate us.

When the injury is at the hands of a friend who's also our pastor, the pain is unimaginable. This is what I found this morning.  What grieves me most about it is that it involves people I know, respect, and love deeply.  I discovered it because I keep getting multiple hits on this blog from people Googling the blog author's name and finding it here, in a post from two years ago.  As I read the ensuing comments, the vitriolic tone of many pierced my heart to its core. I knew there had been hurt, I lived through the experiences they described, but it didn't occur to me that some six to ten years later people would still be carrying around such rancor over it all.

Forgiveness is the hardest thing on earth to do. Our souls long for retribution, for repayment for all the pain we've had to endure.  I know. I'm the worst when it comes to forgiving. God has had to walk with me through each and every injury, sometimes carrying me, in order for my heart to finally let go and forgive.

It's important to remember that forgiveness is a process. It's a choice you make. And make. And make again. Until the hurt and anger lessens, your heart stops making an automatic left turn into dark places, and your thoughts stop running down avenues of revenge. It doesn't happen overnight. And it often doesn't even happen within a month.  Depending on the level of pain inflicted and the measure of trust that had been placed in the person who hurt you, it could be years before forgiveness truly flourishes.

Matthew 18 spells out the steps Jesus expects us to take to resolve things when we are injured, the last step being to treat the offending brother as if he were an unbeliever if he refuses to listen to even the church's rebuke. How many of us actually go through with these steps? How many times to we just give up and just walk away from the relationship when the hurt and anger grows too big for us to handle? I know I'm guilty. Its just easier to tell ourselves, and anyone else who'll listen, how horrible the other person was and how grievously they wronged us, rather than to screw our courage to the sticking place, and go face-to-face with the other person for as long as it takes us to understand their side of the story. No, it's easier to just cling to our own side and ignore the rest; to never confront the person in the presence of fair-minded witnesses, if we even confront them at all.

But what Matthew 18 never tells us to do is to air our grievances before the world; in the town square, or the main boulevard, or even in a city park.  Yet here we are, blogs all over the virtual town square/boulevard known as the Internets, airing grievances of brother-in-Christ against brother-in-Christ. Defaming our brothers and sister in the name of Christ and claiming a Matthew 18 mandate to do so.

Yikes!  No wonder so many reject the very idea of becoming a follower of Jesus. We eat our own.

"To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable, because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you." C.S. Lewis 

Go ahead and be angry. You do well to be angry—but don't use your anger as fuel for revenge. And don't stay angry. Don't go to bed angry. Don't give the Devil that kind of foothold in your life...  Make a clean break with all cutting, backbiting, profane talk. Be gentle with one another, sensitive. Forgive one another as quickly and thoroughly as God in Christ forgave you. -- Eph 3:26-27,31-32

The Cost of Freedom

No matter what your personal opinion of the Iraq war, you gotta realize that this is the price we pay for the freedoms we enjoy; even the ones that let us vehemently disagree with our leaders and our military.

The amazing thing to me is that no matter what we say, even if we rail against what they are doing, our military will still fight, and die, so we will remain free. That is truly something to lauded.

Photo by the amazing Kat Bonson. All her memorial pictures can be found here.  The organization that puts on these memorials in Santa Monica is called Arlington West.

NOTE: I do not put this up to rail against the war, or to make a statement for it.  I am personally conflicted about it, and do not see a clear solution or easy answers anywhere.

Rather, I put this up as a salute to all the brave men and women who fought and died for the freedoms I enjoy. Whether it was in Iraq, Afghanistan, Vietnam, Korea, World War II, World War I, The Civil War, or the American Revolution, many, many people have given their lives so that I can live free. Free to pursue my particular dreams, to worship the God I want the way I want, to speak my mind on any matter I desire, to travel when and where I want.... I am blessed. We are blessed. Because they were/are willing to stand against tyranny and say, "not on my watch."

Shout Out

I love it when I see my friends names in the credits of tv shows and movies! Give a big shout out to my old friend Natalie Chaidez! Woohoo!

I'm watching "Heroes" right now, which I swore I wouldn't get hooked on, but my sister and my own TiVo conspired against me and got me hooked anyway... so now I'm watching with the rest of America to find out what "save the cheerleader, save the world" means and who's name pops up as co-executive producer but Natalie's. Woohoo! She worked on several seasons of Judging Amy (another show I loved) and on Cracker, as well as soooo many other shows. I used to run sound with her husband, Mike, at Mosaic LA. And Natalie and I had several writer-producer acquaintances/friends in common when we met -- the way it often is in Hollywood.

Anyway, I've lost touch with the Chaidez fam since moving to Nashville, but its always soooo good to see her name pop up in the credits. Go Natalie!

Mozart and Schermerhorn

If you haven't been the Schermerhorn Symphony Center, you need to go. Really. You need to go. And those of you considering visiting Nashville, this is one place that needs to be on your Must See list (along with the Ryman and Fido; okay, yeah, my taste runs a little toward the eclectic).

The building itself is amazingly beautiful, with its airy, open feel, clean lines and mix of stone and wood. But I think its the acoustics that enchanted me most. Granted, I was sitting in the orchestra section in the middle. Pretty much the best seats to have to begin with -- and I have no idea how I managed to score such great seats, seeing as how I got my ticket tonight at the box-office, with the help of my friends who have season tickets (tip to the interested: find someone who has season tickets and have them purchase your ticket for you. They get a big discount on any extra tickets they get. It is sooooo worth it, considering tickets can cost upwards of $80).

Perfect seats aside, the sound was amazing -- which is a very important thing to this little Soundchick. I had read in several different reviews that there is no accoustically bad seat in the hall, and after tonight, I'm inclined to believe it. I could hear everything, even the smallest whispers of sound from any instrument on stage, and none of the dynamic range between pianismo and fortismo got lost in the engineer's attempt to balance our listening experience. In fact, a few times I wondered if they really had need for someone to man a sound board at all, even though I could see a battery of microphones strung from the ceiling. Was I hearing the symphony through a sound system, or was I actually hearing them "unplugged"? I have no idea.

And the symphony, wow! They are incredible. I'm not a symphony sophistocit, so I cannot rate how our symphony compares with those in other cities. All I can say is that I thought it was beautiful, and I would have been happy to stay there all night listening to them play.

Tonight it was Mozart, and Sibelius. I love Mozart; have since I first remember connecting his name to his music. Sibelius I'd never heard of, but for the most part, I liked what I heard. Our conductor for the evening was Anu Tali, whom I found to be a delight to watch. And who shocked me with her youth (she graduated high school in 1991;jeez, I feel old).

The best part of the evening was, in my mind, the Mozart Concerto No. 5 in A major. Soovin Kim was the guest violinist. He was such a joy to watch! You could see his love for the music in every note he played. His face just shone with excitement. He made me smile and enjoy the music all the more just watching him beam as he played his 1709 Stradivarius. If you ever have a chance to see him play, take it; by any means possible, take it.

We ended our evening with sushi at Ru San's. Oooooo, yum. You have got to try this place! I'm so not a sushi eater -- raw fish give me the heebies -- but I had veggie rolls with shrimp tempura inside that were absolutely To.Die.For. And the chefs and waiter all have way too much fun! I want me one of those cool t-shirts they all wear, "Got Sushi?" Yes. I am a happy, happy little camper tonight. It was the perfect way to end a perfect evening.

Photos from The Nashville Symphony website.