One of the funniest things about living in Nashville is that everybody is somebody.
Present blog author excluded.
There are the obviously famous people- artists and musicians and the like. And don’t think for one country music minute that I don’t love that. The idea that Reba and I could pass each other on the cereal aisle is a highlight to living in this zip code.
Then there are the not-so-obvious ones- the phenomenal songwriters, the producers that everyone, yes absolutely everyone, should know [except the musically uncool like me], the unsigned artists that have college women all over this great nation pining after them, etc. Being that I have no aspirations in the music biz, I don’t know them. So who knows how many times I’ve sat beside an undercover big deal. Or stood in line with someone that would make a soon-to-be-artist sweaty and nervous.
I had a couple of great experiences this weekend that sadly, I’m not allowed to blog about. [Don't think I didn't shake my fist at the sky and yell "OH WHY?!?" when the email said, "please don't blog about this". Let's just say I slept on a tour bus Friday and Saturday night. And that's all you're getting.] But I was around artists and people who are somebodys here in Nashville. And they treated me like we’d been friends forever and even suffered through the 3rd quarter of the Georgia game on my behalf.
Oh musicians. You should really learn to love football. This could be our year.
They were awesome to be around. Genuinely caring about my move to Nashville, playing the “who do you know” game and identifying mutual friends. Really getting to know me. Saying, with their actions, that I am important.
But then I had a radically different experience last week, before the Weekend That Ruled. I was at an event and I ran into someone that I have many mutual friends with here in Nashville. It was easy to recognize him from pictures on facebook and the fact that EVERYONE says we would love being friends.
Being the shy quiet type that I am [ahem], I introduced myself and explained how and why we should know each other.
Once I said hey, it was apparent that I was out of place and stealing his time. Suffice it to say we didn’t hug or exchange phone numbers. In fact, I think only one party in the conversation smiled. That being me. At the beginning.
I left the conversation saying, “Is that guy famous? And was I supposed to know that? And am I a fan and didn’t know it?”
He carried himself with an air of importance. And made me question my own.
I’ve been turning this conversation over in my mind. The truth is that there were a lot of factors involved and meeting another time or in another situation may have made us into great friends. [So don't get all feisty cause I still could end up being buds with him in the future. I'm just sayin'...]
I think by asking “Are you famous?”, what we are really saying is, “Are you worth my time?”. Isn’t that true? Because we think “famous” people deserve our time and others don’t. He had decided that I was not worth his time. An investment that had no payout.
And I do the same thing to people all the time. How sick and sad. Because I don’t know if you saw the memo but I, ANNIE, AM NOT FAMOUS EITHER. But sometimes I act like it.
Sometimes I forget my own issues until someone holds a mirror up and says “Check yo self out, sista. You look just like me.” Ouch.
So I wonder if there are people I’ve left in my “wake of fame” that feel the same about me as I do about that guy? People that I didn’t have time for because they weren’t cool enough? I bet so, but pray not. I’ve asked God to forgive me of that- being so very important that I sucked the importance out of someone else’s heart.
So thanks for the reality check, Fake Famous Guy. You’ve made me want to live different.
Because I’ve decided that I’m going to start treating people like THEY are the important ones. Not me. I want other people to leave my presence and say, “Am I famous? She acted like I was a big deal. Am I?” And then maybe that will give God a moment to tell them what a big deal they are to Him.
Because that’s the first thing He said to me when I left that conversation.
So today, I want you to know that YOU REALLY MATTER TO ME. You do. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel any different. And just because you are on the other side of this screen doesn’t mean I don’t thank God for you and appreciate you for even stopping by. You are important. You are a big deal. You are worth my time.
Truth is, there is only One worthy of fame around here.
Habakkuk 3:2 “Lord, I have heard of Your fame; I stand in awe of Your deeds.”
One that is perfect and worthy and YET takes His time to make us feel loved and important. And that fact alone should be enough to keep me humble. Please Lord, keep me humble. And keep loving me like this.
That’s where i was at 7:20 this morning…..standing in front of my little machine placing my vote. It only took about 20 minutes to go through the whole process. 
…and trust me, it didn’t look that clean or unscrapped/dented!! It had been around the block a time or two or three or four!!
Babbie Mason was in concert in town last night. I have admired her writing and singing for years. Even some songs i didn’t know she’d written that I’d enjoyed singing….like “All Rise”. She told us last night that she was just walking through her living room when the Lord “delivered those words to her on a silver platter”…..
That was me this morning, just cooking my little heart out! Yup, i actually “slaved” over a stove at 6:30 in the morning to make the world famous Sausage Potato Soup for our birthday luncheon today. Mr. B. turns 58 today. Hard to believe.
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