Part 4: Earthquakes and Turkey Soup
I went to see The Chariot when they stopped at Studio Seven in Seattle during their farewell tour in November. This was a momentous occasion for my husband and I. Our first date as an official "long distance" couple was a meet up at a The Chariot show several years ago. We've seen them about five times since.
We mosh and thrash and scream, worshiping Jesus with the band. They jump off the stage onto our heads and hands. We pray with them and they invite us to eat with them after the show. We listen to their albums all year, eagerly anticipating our next joyous worship session together
This show - the final show we'd share with them - was not like the others.
More people attended this show than ever before. A beautiful sight.
As we waited and listened to the opening bands, I started imagining an earthquake and wondering what I'd do in the event one occurred in this crowded, stuffy place. Too many people, not enough doorways, I thought. But as soon as The Chariot began setting up on stage, my misgivings were forgotten.
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Jeremiah and I spent Thanksgiving together, just us and the dogs. We cooked all the things we look forward to all year- a turkey, stuffing, rolls, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, two pies, a cake - and ate as much as we could.
Needless to say, we had ample left overs.
The following day, we boiled the leftover turkey bones and made broth. With our broth, we made turkey soup. Again, we ate as much as we could.
We had ample left overs.
Our friend Kendal (who you read about in Part 1) is a culinary artist. I am not particularly fond of seafood, and the thought of eating anything besides fish makes me squirm. But when Kendal made seafood gumbo, complete with shrimp, clams, muscles, and octopus, I ate it up. And asked for seconds.
Being rendered essentially immobile by the breaks in his leg, Kendal has been reliant on others to cook meals for him; in particular, Jen. Though I know he is grateful for every bite (he has an unparalleled gift of gratitude), I also know it can be tiring to be the person stuck cooking and cleaning every day.
It was Jeremiah's idea to pack up our abundance of soup to The Keep, where Kendal and some other friends live. We had enough to feed all four friends who were home. And thankfully, they ate the chocolate cake we brought over too.
While they ate, we shared stories from our Thanksgivings. I found my mind wandering, taking note of the number of doorways and people in sight, again wondering what I'd do if there were an earthquake. My thoughts were jolted back to the present when Kendal began to catch us up on the state of his leg. He'd just gotten X-rays and a new cast, so we were eager to hear of his progress.
Turned out, there had been no progress.
Not slight progress. Not mediocre progress.
None.
Despite all the healing I could have sworn Jesus and I were giving, after a solid month of rest and immobility, there was no visible improvement to speak of. His leg was exactly the same.
I knew what I had to do.
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Jeremiah is a musician. Most often, he plays the guitar.
For a year, he was the guitarist and vocalist for a band called Simon the Leper. We lived in The Yellow House with Simon the Leper's drummer, Jared Bugg. The band practiced in the basement of The Yellow House, and even recorded an EP there.
Simon the Leper broke up last spring. For nearly nine months, Jeremiah has been stuck playing guitar alone in our apartment, amp turned low as possible. As of November, Jeremiah was invited into two bands almost simultaneously. In one, he plays bass. In the other, guitar.
The bands have been progressing in parallel since their respective inceptions. Both began practicing the same week. Both named themselves during their third practice.
One of those bands, "A Friend," was formed by Jared Bugg. They practice in the basement of The Yellow House, where the drummer now lives. A Friend had their first show December 17. They played at Le Voyeur, a restaurant and bar in Olympia where Simon the Leper played countless times.
Le Voyeur is kind of a dive, though they have surprisingly delicious food and an excellent beer selection. We like the venue in part because the shows happen in back, and Le Voyeur patrons can choose to come watch rather than be bombarded with something they're not in to. Also, shows there are both all ages and free.
At least, every one of the dozens of times I've been there before to watch my husband and friends play a show, it's been free.
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Thirty seconds into The Chariot's set, while I stood at center stage close enough to touch their vocalist, Josh, I had an anxiety attack. Overwhelmed, I tried to shove my way out of the pit but was unable to budge an inch in any direction. I turned to Jeremiah in a panic. His first instinct was to boost me onto the crowd so I could surf out. He was nearly trampled in the process, though. Instead, he shoved backward through the sea of thrashing kids and pulled me to a place I felt safe.
From our safe place, we could hardly see what was happening on stage. We were separated from the worship we'd been craving, like wine-os with a new bottle and no corkscrew.
We went to our car for a smoke, trying to tell ourselves we were still part of the show... We could hear the band loud and clear anyway...
When we went back into the venue, I stood at the back of the crowd, well outside the mosh pit. Jeremiah made it to the front again, crowd surfing and thrashing to the end.
