There have to be more pleasant things to do than standing exposed to the scrutiny of a crowd you aren't sure is even in the house to see you. I might've been on the program, but no one bought a ticket because I was there.
Most everyone knows that Kirk Talley is one of my best friends. He invited me to join him and the rest of the Trio (Anthony Burger & Shane Dunlap) for a good night of singing and sharing at their concert in Maryville Tennessee this past weekend. Thing is, no one knew I was gonna be there. At least they weren't supposed to. This was my first time on a stage in the east Tennessee area since coming off the road so many years ago. I didn't know what to expect. And the uneasiness was made a bit more intense because of an email I had endured from a former fan with some spikes and a hammer just before heading out my Kentucky door. I had a few travel hours to contemplate her meaningful words.
Joyce Martin is another great friend. Our stories are remarkably alike. We've both enjoyed riding the highs of our public careers while keeping very private battles tucked deep. We've had our fairly recent God encounters though. Now we are facing the music, and the people, anxious to tell our stories. The stuff we've been preaching and singing for a couple of decades has come home to at least two of us.
That's one of the things we talked about. Joyce, Kirk and I could write some amazing verse if a book were ever put together. If the chapters flowed as the emotions have, you'd be sick from the inclines, loops and all-of-the-sudden steep drops. All three of us have called one or the other of our little trio in the middle of the night just to cry or vent it out. The moment's high is usually tempered by the expectation of the next hard knock or crushing email. But that doesn't mean we won't enjoy those good times while we have them.
After the concert, Joyce, Shane and I went to Kirk's house to finish off the food that had been left over backstage. That gave us opportunity for another round of bucking each other up. And we took advantage of it. I wondered what Shane was thinking just listening in to our happy, sappy, crappie tales. He's had his own share of serious injuries in the SG business, but not with the issues the rest of us know.
When we started repeating ourselves (around 4 am) we decided that a little rest would give us all fresh perspective. Shane drew the short straw. He got the floor. Joyce got the guest room And I got the couch. We heard Kirk snickering from his own room. Shane obviously couldn't sleep. I know he said something about camping when he was a kid, but I was nearly making firewood by then.
Sunday morning church was just sweet. Kirk's pastor, Tommy Patterson, is the perfect picture of a fiery Pentecostal preacher. He preaches hard, keeps you involved, and commands authority. I loved him. As hard as he preaches to you while on the stump, he loves you just as much afterwards. And he's funny too.
After lots of laughing as friends, a little crying as comrades, and even a little brow beating as fellow artists, we all packed up our own bags of dirty clothes and tough life issues and ventured off in different directions. But we'll get together again before long. And we'll talk about good days, booger days and the beautiful things that God is showing us.
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