The Yellow Door Life

When you travel frequently, you are accustomed to being around a lot of strangers.

People you don’t know, and probably never will. 

Thousands of faces that eventually just become a blur.

Whenever I go somewhere new, attend an event, or even go to Buc-ee’s, I am always astounded by how many other people actually share this planet with me. 

As of this exact moment, Google is telling me the world’s population is 8.3 billion people. 

We are not just 1 in a billion, we are 1 in 8 billion. 

Almost all of those people will forever remain strangers to you and I. 

This fascinates me because at our core, we are all connected as human beings. We all have the same basic needs. We all have a physical heart that pumps blood and a metaphorical heart that desires to be loved, even if we pretend that we don’t. 

We can all share the same exact experience, but all experience it completely differently. 

I spent last weekend in Alabama, so I could attend Morgan Wallen’s concert at Bryant Denny Stadium on the University of Alabama’s campus. I was nervous about this show because I have never done a stadium concert by myself before. I knew there would be a lot of walking and I wasn’t sure how it would all turn out without someone being there to have my back. 

Without turning this into a blog about a lesson God has now taught me on timing and alignment, I will just say he proved his point that things work out exactly when and how they need to. 

From driving the 3 hours to get to my hotel and then the additional hour to get to the show, I eventually made my way into the stadium and found my seat in Section C, Row 1. 

Immediately, I knew I had picked the right seat, because it had a perfect view of the whole stadium and the people sitting around me looked friendly enough. 

Eventually, I ended up with a mother and son combo on my left and another one on my right. What are the odds of that?

The mother to my left had bought her 10-year-old son their tickets as a Christmas present. The mother on my right had filled in for her daughter-in-law who wasn’t able to take off from work for the trip, so she came with her son instead. Different stories, but each one brought them to the same place. 

I was there because Morgan’s music kept me alive last year on days where I wanted to throw in the towel. 

Throughout the night, I learned random details of these strangers’ lives, but never learned their names. We laughed about random drunk people doing drunk people things. We commented on the weather. We belted out songs together. We watched each other’s purses and drinks as we took turns going to the bathroom. I made the comment at one point that when you buy a concert ticket, you are acknowledging that you will become family with the people sitting around you for 5 hours. Everyone laughed and agreed.

We did not know each other, and probably never will, but for 5 hours, we had each other’s backs. 

Even when it down-poured in between sets, we all sat still next to each other, heads down, and just let the rain soak us through and through. 

…

Not that I thought it was possible for me to love Morgan Wallen anymore, but he added something to his tour that was new from the last one I attended. 

On our way into the stadium everyone was given one of these lights.

I kept trying to figure out if I could turn it on myself, and realized I wasn’t meant to. I was not in control of the light. 

When Morgan finally came out and began his first song, our lights came to life and danced along to the music. Every song was the same, with a different color to match the lights on the main stage. 

He eventually explained that the way he had set up the stage was in an effort to see all the sections of the stadium and try to make eye contact with more people. He missed doing that from back in the day when he only played small venues. He also said the lights were a way to show that we were all connected – by music, by pain, by life. 

I’ll never get to see my light, light up again, but it will sit on my dresser as a reminder that there are people on this planet beside myself and even if I don’t know them or their pain, we are one in the same. 

…

None of my concert family said goodbye to each other. Everyone left at different times as the show winded down. Everyone was parked somewhere different. At the end of it all, we didn’t know each other anyways. 

Even so, I was so worried about being alone at yet another thing, but God kept assuring me I wouldn’t be, and he was right. I wasn’t alone for the show. 

…

Some of the most thought-provoking things that have happened in my life have been amidst conversations with complete strangers. Sometimes these strangers have said things I needed to hear, and I hope, vice versa. 

We live in a world where there is an active movement to sever human connection. Small talk has become an annoyance. Strangers are just that and not worth stopping to help. 

The fact is though, a random conversation with someone who feels overlooked, unworthy, invaluable, or defeated, could be the conversation which saves that person’s life – wills him/her to keep going. 

It’s why I write my blog. 

I never set out for people to read a single word, but rather I started it so I could have a safe place to tell my story – even if it was just to a void. 

The fact that anyone reads this is a miracle, honestly. 

I have to figure though, if I can say even one thing that helps someone out, it is worth it. 

We were all strangers once, and most will stay that way, but collectively, we are human beings who need connection. 

So whoever you are, wherever you are, and whatever you are going through, just know you’re not alone. 

❤