I was in Denver last week to attend a preaching conference. I do not usually attend this conference, which moves around to different cities, unless I can stay with friends, thus reducing costs. My son, Kerry, lives in Denver, so attending this year’s conference was a no brainer.

However, I stayed at the home of my son’s future mother-in-law, Lisa. Kerry lives too far from public transportation, while Lisa lives 1/2 block from a bus line. Each day I used public transportation. First I boarded the bus.

 

 

 

 

 

I rode the bus to a light rail station, and  then the train to 16th Street Mall in downtown Denver.

I still had 1/2 mile to the conference, so decided to hop on the free mall bus, which took me within a few blocks of my destination.

 

 

 

 

 

 

One reason I wanted to take public transportation was to interact with people. What do they think about Peyton Manning nearing 40 years of age, the industry boom there, and the effects of legalized pot of crime rates. However, nearly everyone on the buses and trains sat hunched over their smart phone, tablet, or Kindle. Others had headphones in or were talking on the phone. Not one person noticed me or sought to communicate with me. So disappointing. I lamented the numbing effects of small electronics. I would never hunch over my phone or ignore the world around me.

So, of course, by the last day of conference I was just like the commuters. I read a book on my Kindle app for my smart phone while on the bus. I poured over the conference program on the train. Then, on the final day, I headed out for my lunch break, walking and talking on the phone to a friend. I did not see the steps in front of me. I can’t say I fell; rather, I went from standing to sitting upright on a step, thanks to my backpack that prevented a more serious fall. Ouch. The top of my foot throbbed.

I hobbled to lunch and then back again for the final lectures. Near the end, my foot developed severe pain. I realized I needed to decide what to do. My choices were: take a taxi back to Lisa’s (too expensive), call 911 for an ambulance  (too embarrassing), or hobble back to Lisa’s the same way I got to downtown Denver that morning (bus, train, bus). I choose to hobble back. On the way to the 16th Street Mall I was in foul mood, to say the least. My foot hurt. People in Denver were oblivious to my limp. The weather was never stellar, as I hoped. Wah, wah, wah. Pity party.

Suddenly I heard beautiful music–a gentle melody unfamiliar to me but beautiful, comforting, sweet. As a person of faith I decided it was a blessing to get my mind off my pain and the challenge of traveling “home”. I looked towards the sound and discovered a young woman was playing a brightly-painted piano in the middle of the mall.

I listened for a while and found a sense of peace. Soon, I started hobbling towards the bus again. Suddenly, I noticed a piano in every block of the mall, each painted a unique color/pattern/scene.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wondered, how did I miss the pianos all week? How did I miss hearing the music? I realized that my mind was too busy gripping about electronic devices that keep people from interacting. I was the one who missed hearing the music.

And of course, I must ask, how often do we miss the music? How often do we forget to look and listen? How much of our life passes while we are dwelling on our own predicament?  Even in the heart of downtown Denver, simple songs have the power to lift us out of pain. Such a blessing.

 

P.S. I got to Lisa’s on public transportation. My son insisted I go to the emergency room. X-rays there revealed no breaks, just a bad sprain on the top of my foot. I left in an orthopedic boot and the next day on my trip home to ND, nice people pushed me through Denver airport in a wheel chair.