Whenever I travel my mind is open, wide open, to opportunity, to experiences, to wonder. I am uninhibited in a way that does not happen in my city. I see things with fresh eyes, I walk lighter, a bouncing lilt to my steps. There is little that holds me back.

I rolled out of the Embassy Row with a plan in my head: go to busboys and poets. But the minute my Chuck Taylor’s hit the pavement and I passed that hottie in the SUV who gave me the verbal thumbs up, “beautiful, just beautiful” I was on my way to adventure.

What’s this? A farmer’s market a mere three steps from my hotel? I must! So I wander in. I sample organic juice (forgot to snap a pic of the bottle) and speak with the proprietor. I buy the citrus flavor and it opens me up even further. I toss in a bag of granola to make it an even $15 and pony prance my way down Q street, as if I know where I’m going. But I walk with purpose: I am going to busboys and poets to WRITE.

I plug in my headphones and let Siri (or whoever she is) be my red and white tipped cane as I make my way to this incredible haven of artists, writers, poets, and creatives. But the Lord would not have me miss service on the day we recognize the resurrection.  And so as I venture down 16th street, I see a crowd gathered outside, in chairs, standing on the steps, hanging in the doorway, in rapt attention. I walk past, stop. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk I listened. I was eavesdropping on a service in progress as I leaned toward the stained glass windows that were propped open, reminding me of the windows at New Hope Missionary Baptist Church. Is that a black priest I hear? He is preaching like a baptist minister and I cannot move. I pop out my earbuds and stand a bit longer in the middle of the sidewalk ears attentive to the Word. I cannot leave this. The poets can wait. I move back to where the crowd is standing and I join them. I stop Siri. Stop my playlist. And I let the Word wash over me like the breeze that is flowing. I give myself over to The Truth. The priest says, there is hope in the resurrection. That we make resolutions each year to change our lives but we cannot fulfill this change, we will fail each time. That there is ONE who can help us to achieve that permanent life change. He spoke about giving to others, family, friends, the poor. To use our lives to serve the needs of others. He was heading to the finale, the pinnacle of the message, his four points: that we must recognize our need for the Savior. That we must acknowledge we cannot live this life apart from him. About this time I broke from the crowd and headed on to meet the poets. I found myself praising the risen Savior as I walked, aloud. Declaring that He alone is worthy of all praise. That He is Lord in DC, Dallas, Portland, Dubai. Wherever I place my feet, HE IS THERE AND HE IS LORD.