curtain climbers, dying cats, bits of grace

Good grief, Egypt. Die already. My building manager's cat sits out on the landing just outside by door and moans. It's totally not a meow- she has throat/face cancer that render her unable to make normal sounds. So she always sounds like she's dying, and she probably is. I just wish she'd get it over with.

So I went to church this morning, saw more midwesterners, and heard about friendship. Thanks to all of you who have given me wounds that I can trust, and not multiplied kisses of falsehood. May I be able to repay your graciousness.

After church I went downtown, to pick up my last check from B&N and deposit it with the Wells Fargo Wagon, comin' down the street. I rode down the 16th St. Mall on the freebus to Blake, where the ATM is, and on the way back my bus got real interesting. First off, there was this kid, kinda hippie-esque with one of those knit caps with a little bill on it, sitting in the back holding a Fender acoustic guitar (moment of silence in sympathy for bad guitars). Then this kind of crazy homeless dude got on, who was loud, but ended up being totally harmless and kind of funny. At one point he talked about his nieces and nephews, who are apparently small, and grab on his legs, and he calls them curtain climbers. Well, he sat down between me and hippie Fender boy, and asked the kid to play something- which turned out to be the Beatles' "Blackbird," and the kid actually wasn't bad. Then the homeless guy asked to see his guitar, and sure enough, the kid smiled and handed it over. The homeless guy strummed a couple of times, not making any chords, and then pronounced it a good guitar, and handed it back to the kid, who laughed. Not a "I'm laughing at you" laugh, but a honest-to-goodness good natured laugh. And then we all went our separate ways, getting off at Welton, Glenarm, Tremont.

After I picked up my check, I went back into B&N, for now irrelevant reasons. On the way out, Tony, a cop who guards there on his day off, walked me out of the store. He was sad to hear I wasn't working there anymore, and I told him I was probably going to be working for them in Indianapolis, and he told me it was God working in my life. Boy, did I smile then. We stood there on the street corner- the same one my bike was stolen from 2.5 weeks ago- and talked for close to a half an hour. We talked about God, and direction, and our lives and families, and our culture, and where this is all headed. It was a beautiful piece of Sunday, a beautiful piece of life.

I know I will miss this city, but I know that in every city, there are bits of Grace. I just hope I always have the eyes to see, the ears to hear, the mind to accept and the heart to understand.