Running down to St. Louis tomorrow to do some final rehearsing for a recording project that I don't think I've written about on here yet. It goes like this - 1) I work for a church. 2) I write songs to use for worship in that church. 3) My friend Nathan does the same thing in St. Louis. 4) We like to play music together. 5) We both thought it would be cool to record our songs for worship so people in our churches (and anyone else who cares) can have them. 6) We're going to do it. Not sure how the money's going to line up for it, but we've got enough to get started, and it feels like we're supposed to go ahead, so we've been practicing with a bass player and and drummer from his church, and it's coming together really well, so I'm going to run down to practice tomorrow, come back Thursday morning, teach my last Business Communication class, get a lot of stuff ready for church on Sunday, spend next week 1) getting ready to teach my five new classes that start June 30 at the business college and 2) getting more stuff ready for church, and then go back down to St. Louis next Thursday to record the rhythm tracks on Friday and Saturday, so I can come back Saturday night in time for church Sunday morning and then become a full-time teacher the next day. So if I don't write betweeen now and then, at least you can know what I'm doing. Since you care and all.

It's been a while since I have been in a busy season that lasted months instead of days, but I think it's coming... I'm telling myself that busy's not always bad - you just have to make sure you're taking time for the important things that fuel you up to do all the stuff you have to do. But I'm interested: what do you think? How do you view busyness? Inherently evil, or just reality, or what?

I could, and probably should, write about all of the things that have happened since I wrote last time - things like playing music at that wedding, going to an Arts Conference in Chicago that literally helped define for me what it means to be an artist and a follower of Jesus, the ways I connected to people in my church as a result of that conference, the ways church is changing and growing and feels ready to burst with something good, and the ways I've been wrestling with what to do job-wise outside of the church (it looks like I'll be teaching full-time at the business college starting in July). I could write about any of those things in detail, but I haven't wanted to for some reason. I do want to write about tonight.

Let's start with today. I didn't have anything to do today except a phone interview for the business college at 1 in the afternoon. So I woke up about 9:30, put on some shorts and a t-shirt, and went downstairs to eat something. I got sidetracked when I looked out the window and saw springtime, so I went outside and sat and prayed and let appreciation for beauty well up inside me. Came back in and decided to not just have cereal and juice like most mornings, but to try my hand at pancakes and eggs. Ok, they weren't the best, but edible, and the real maple syrup from New York that my parents brought me covered up any real problems. I tried to write a song for church after that, but my stomach was making noise as it tried to figure out how to deal with the pancakes, and it kept distracting me. I gave up and played guitar, then did the phone interview at 1 (I think I did pretty well… how often is it that you do something where all you have to do is talk about yourself?). After that I tried to learn how to play some of Nickel Creek's songs… I'm going to see them again on Friday, and I've been thinking for a while that trying to learn things that seem way out of my league is probably a good way to get better. Ended up doing that all afternoon, had some dinner, and then took stock of the day.

I was having trouble convincing myself that I'd had a productive day. I know that once I start teaching at the business college full-time, teaching and pursuing my part-time but life-consuming (in the good way) calling at church will leave me very little time for this kind of day, and I should enjoy these opportunities. But I wanted something else, so I decided to pack up some books and go to Starbucks to grade some papers and read. I also had the vague thought in the back of my head that I was more (if only slightly more) likely to meet someone new at Starbucks than sitting at home. And I have to say that even nine months after moving to a new city I am still hungry to meet new people.

I walked up to the counter and the girl who served me said, "You're Michael, right?" She's apparently friends with a girl from my church who also works at Starbucks, and has been to the church at least once and seen me there. We bantered a little bit while she got my drink (for free!) and then I sat down, laughing because another small milestone has passed in my putting down roots in a new place: I can go to a Starbucks and have someone there recognize me. Big deal, I know, but anonymity is only nice for a while.

I graded my papers and then pulled out a book. I've been reading a lot recently, and my book of choice tonight was one that someone I barely know gave me out of the blue after church a couple weeks ago. Life After God, by Douglas Coupland - short stories about the first generation of people raised "without God" - without ever being a part of organized religion. People who've been taught to be cynical about everything, who don't believe in love but are perpetually lonely. People who don't know what to believe in but who slowly realize that they have to believe in something for life to be bearable. These are the people I want to relate to, but I'm not sure I can - I mean, I was raised with faith and, thankfully, have never lost it. But I connected to those people on a deep level as I kept reading. They're so lonely, and as I looked up every time someone new walked in the store, and as I felt the pang of jealousy when two old friends ran into each other and excitedly settled down to catch up, and as I glanced every so often at my cell phone lying out on the table in case anyone called…

Every new person that walked into Starbucks became a character in one of Coupland's empty but searching stories, and I wanted to be brave enough to tell them that I don't understand who they are, but I'm woven with some of the same threads they are. I felt full as I closed the last page of the book, just as the coffee shop closed and I said goodbye to my new friend behind the counter. Driving home, I knew that I was finally going to write, after a couple weeks' hiatus. I love that feeling - I've already started writing in my head, but I have to wait a little bit before I actually start… it's like someone floored the gas pedal but hasn't let the clutch out yet.

Now I'm done and it feels like my day is pretty much complete. But I'm still looking for more. I think what I learned at that Arts Conference is that someday my penchant for talking about myself and the floored gas pedal and the awareness of my kinship with the girl with colored hair walking in to buy coffee will continue to coalesce into something that changes me and changes other people and makes us all see God a little more clearly.

(I'm young and naïve and ok with that)