They're Doing Rent at a HIGH SCHOOL?!?

That's right. Rent at a high school here in the area for the first time ever. Let that one sink in for a minute. Yep. Not that most teenagers aren't already hyper-exposed to far, far worse on an hourly basis, but still... makes you think.

It's been a while since I've posted and that's not for lack of things to update on. It's simply a factor of non-resolution or sheer lack of capacity to express, but I'm going to transcend both of these barriers and tell my story! How's that for a grandiose introduction?

So I got a phone call a few weeks ago from a music studio I applied to long before Karri and I moved out east. They had an opening and wanted me to come in and interview for a voice teaching position. I was thrilled, eager to get back into the arts and into working with students. The interview went great, and I got to sing again. It'd been a long time. Things were clicking right along, I was offered the job, and went in to sign a contract. Before I could sign, Leslie, the head of the studio, told me they valued longevity in their teachers and needed the contract to be for 18 months. I told her that Karri and I would be overseas starting in September. Deal breaker.

I'm disappointed to say the least. There's still an outside chance that I could teach up to September, sheerly because they liked me and they have an immediate need, but it's not looking good. I really like the studio, and Howie and Leslie (who interviewed me), and wish it would work out. And it's hard waiting, and it's hard letting go, and I wish I could say more than it's hard right now, but I can't. And that's why it's been difficult to write. Because there's still this thing inside of me that believes a story can't be told unless it has an ending, and a happy one at that. But life doesn't work that way, and God never promised us that.

So in the meantime, I'm still waiting tables, and my coworkers are becomming friends, and my friends are becomming more and more transparent with me. That's what I've always wanted, really, to be on a relational level with these folks that there wouldn't be any facades. But to be frank, some of the things I've been seeing and hearing since have been more and more disturbing. And I'm trying to be discreet to protect their privacy and the like, so it's going to be tough to express myself here, but being asked my opinions on issues such as where the line is between recreational and controlling cocaine use? I haven't had a lot of time to process how to respond to those kinds of conversations. So what does love look like there? And do I really believe that Jesus' blood is enough for an addict? And do I really believe in an empty tomb? I'm coming face to face with my faith in midst of reality. It's easy to sing songs and write sermons when you don't know a coke addict.

I'd love to finish this post up with something uplifting, but I'm really close to crying right now, and I think that's ok. So I'll save the uplifting stuff for next time.

Come, Lord Jesus.