This weekend I and my husband Jeff (you can read about what we do here) performed a kid’s concert to benefit our friends, Melanie and Dennis. They are farmers on Sunbeam Farm who suffered over $19,000 in damages during Colorado’s flooding this fall. Their entire 2013 fall harvest had to be sent to the landfill. The food was potentially contaminated by the flood waters and could not even be composted.
To get ready for our concert, Dennis built a stage and they covered the still saturated ground with straw, so that the audience could put their blankets on dry ground. Jeff and I put out the call to our community of fans and friends, we invited everyone to come to the farm for a concert in Sunbeam’s honor.
In the mid-afternoon on a dazzling autumn day children and parents began to arrive for the show. Bright pink jackets, colored tights, pattered shirts, butterflies, rainbows, polka dots, barrettes and truck t-shirts populated the land. Children holding parents hands fed chickens and bit into crisp apples at the height of sweetness. Warm cider was poured into mason jars and wax cups. I tested my microphone and accepted hugs, handshakes, and high fives from children. Jeff and I squabbled over the choice of a song for our sound check, laughed at ourselves, and then settled on one about a bobcat. My feet squeaked through the mud as I hid costumes of a black bear, mountain lion, and a truck driver named “Huck,” in a shed turned changing room near the stage.
What a privilege to live this life.
What a privilege to share music and magic with eager smiling children who give us their complete adoration and love without a thought.
What incredible gratitude I feel at the end of every concert,
my heart bursting with love and joy for this moment, these people, this land.
At the end of the concert we invited Dennis and Melanie to the stage. Dennis invited us all to think about worms.
“Let’s all stomp our feet together and tell the worms underneath us that we say, thank you! They’re working hard in the soil and they’re going even deeper because of all this rain. The worms are helping the dirt renew so we can grow food again next year. Are you ready? Okay, 1,2,3… GO!”
100’s of little shoes ran in place pounding “thank you, thank you, thank you,” into the earth.
There was a more cynical time in my life when I would have questioned the value of this moment, stepped outside of it to wonder at it’s accuracy or the science behind it.
This weekend my feet pounded the wood of the stage and I watched tiny dancing feet send messages to worms.
The sun streamed through the trees.
Parents watched the loves of their lives beat muddy foot prints into dirt.
Love poured from every inch of my being and the connection between us was palpable.
“Thank you.” I thought to myself. Simply, “thank you.”