Let not steadfast love and faithfulness forsake you; bind them around your neck; write them on the tablet of your heart. (Proverbs 3:3 ESV)
It’s not very often that I do this, but today, I’m going to share the same reflections here that I did over at my souldare blog. I just got back from a wonderful weekend getaway in Chicago. So much goodness shared, yet we came home weary (at least I think we all were tired out from all the walking, talking and absorbing of the cultural experiences, we chose.)
Here are some words I wrote to capture the experience:
I didn’t buy any clothes at Bloomingdale’s.
I didn’t get to take the elevated train.
I didn’t take a smoke break in Bloomington.
I didn’t miss a thing.
Took a taxi and and a Uber though,
Talked with strangers, who we felt we knew.
Listened and danced and drank in the blues,
we learned the blues can carry you through;
these blues they find you, they hold you close.
They wear red sunglasses in the middle of the darkened room,
or maybe faded overalls. Fruteland Jackson
is how they call themselves.
In their occidental, dapper hat they say,
“The light blinds them on that stage.”
We hoot and holler and say,
They tell us stories that make us glow.
They sing us like they know.
They tell us the blues are good to them;
We believe, because we felt it then.
I didn’t buy any souvenirs, but I spent
my memories with them.
I wanted to read those days like a book,
something new every five minutes.
But then the train brought us home, brought us home,
brought us home.