person on black pants lying on green yoga mat
Photo by Arina Krasnikova on

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It was unusually warm and windy for a Friday in November. Perhaps it was the Cincinnati winds. Perhaps it was the spirit gently stirring my soul for the coming evening. 

Ben and I had taken my mom out for the weekend. A long and overdue Birthday present we’d promised her months past. But the time was here. The moment was now. 

After a day at the Underground Railroad Museum and a rushed door-dash visit to Chick-fil-A, we couldn’t wait to see Brandon Lake in concert. I desired nothing more than to sit and soak up the presence through worship songs I love. You can imagine our disappointment when the venue sold more tickets than seats and we were left to stand the entire night. “Good thing I’m a teacher,” I thought. I never get tired of standing. 

But as the night grew on and two hours turned into three, it wasn’t my feet that grew weary, but my heart. My emotions. My mind. My mental health struggles. My pain.