Maybe redemption has stories to tellYou would think with all the boys I know, famous and infamous, I would have done a little better yesterday.
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
Where you gonna go?
Where you gonna go?
Salvation is here.
Chris and I were in our usual spot, outside the venue two hours before the show when the photographer (Andy, who RULES ALL) came out and invited us to come in and watch Switchfoot do their soundcheck. Ben would have loved this but alas, Chris takes us to the Switchfoot shows because ironically my husband is usually away playing death metal when they roll into town.
We sat on the floor while they played Dirty Second Hands, and then they came down and met us, chatting for a few minutes.
And I'm an idiot, because I'm standing there holding the hand of the guy who wrote the words on my ankle and I didn't show him my Nothing in the world could fail me now tattoo.
Argh!
(Jon, I'm so sorry. I wanted to show you. My brain wiped itself clean somewhere in between walking down to the stage and when you smiled at me.)
I managed to talk to him a little though. I had a great talk with Chad, and Drew and Tim. Jerome remembered the children from three years ago when we last met up at the same place.
When they were finished we were sent back outside, no longer cold, VIP wristbands displayed proudly because I'm the biggest Switchfoot fan that ever lived and seriously, after coming away from the last show with set lists and guitar picks and a front-row view I figured that was the amazing show and hopefully this one would be cool too but at no point did I expect to meet the band. I've known some other bands. Mostly big scary gruff guys with almost as many tattoos as I have. Not down to earth, friendly and engaging bands that I can sing every word of every song with.
But at door time we filed in and wound up in the front row again! This time firmly rooted between where Tim and Jon stand onstage. Only Jon never stands still. He grabbed hands, he jumped into the audience right next to me, to the positively screams of delight from my kids and the glowstick-teens next to us. He sang to Ruth. He sang to me. Tim checked Henry to make sure he seemed to be having fun. (For the record, Henry bailed at ten songs in, bless his heart. Christian took him to a cooler vantage point from which to enjoy the rest of the show). We sang and swayed and rocked out and took video (PS My blackberry takes amazing video, sound is distorted but I might try a Youtube upload later today) and waved goodbye when they were finished, wrapping up with Dare you to Move after twenty other songs, including playing the new Hello Hurricane album start to finish. Start to finish, I said. Oh my God, the songs.
It was beyond ridiculously good. I didn't want to cut off my access bracelet when we got home. I didn't want to go to sleep.
Four hours later we were up again and on our way to the airport, this time for duty instead of celebration. I had to drop Ben off for his flight and we were almost late because we could not let go of each other and didn't want to face this morning but knew we don't really have much of a choice. Onward and upward big B and little b. Face your fears. Face the day. Dare you to move, stupids.
After a night like that, it seems like anything and everything is possible. Strangers are friends. Fear is adventure in disguise. Time is relative. Wounds heal.
And live music is worth living for, a gift like nothing else to me.
Thank you, boys.