Floyd, Virginia- an opportunity of a lifetime

Floyd, Virginia

It’s Labor Day weekend- a holiday set aside to recognize the great contribution of the American worker; the farmer, the plumber, the factory worker.  In my world it’s become a weekend where the white-collar workers who don’t actually produce anything escape the rat race one last time before school starts.

For my family, it’s one last time together before Paul leaves for Seattle.  We’re at a small family run resort in southern Virginia, on the edge of Appalachia.   Everyone seems to know each other. The family patriarch had a very successful church in North Carolina and it feels a bit like we’ve crashed old home week.  It doesn’t bother me- or at least, I don’t feel the need to vent about it but I hear it from Drew and I see it in Paul.  To retreat into our own family vacation seems rude but what’s the motivation to break into a church reunion of people we may never see again?  Tubing today will be fun and may even break the ice a bit.

But last night was an interesting event.  This place is about ten minutes from Floyd, Virginia.  Just another small southern town except this one has been hosting bluegrass jam sessions every Friday night since 1910. A hundred years of the American laborers coming down from the hills to the town and having impromptu pickup sessions.  I’m not a blue grass officiado – heck, I can hardly identify the instruments- so it was harder for me to truly appreciate what was happening around me.  But the town has prospered from the crowds that come to hum, tap and sometimes, play along. They’ve built brick seating areas along a main street  (not  THE Main St., that’s a side street) and groups form and play and the crowds mingle around them in a fluid dance between performer and audience.

Some groups are obviously regulars- they have their kids sitting on pillows at their feet and grandma with her walker on the side. They ignore the people gawking and taking pictures and bend over instruments that could be generations old.  Other groups just form up- older musicians including the newcomers and playing to the crowd that form around them.  I assume from the size of the crowd that builds across the street that that’s a superior sound.  I can appreciate the skills but not really the sound.

The place that started it all is the Floyd Country Store.  What was probably a typical country general store has morphed into a home grown version of Cracker Barrel- only the prices reflect what tourist pay, not town folk.  It cost $5 to come to the front of the store and dance. My sister in law and I wandered through the shopping and ended up right near the front and of course, stopped to listen.  A dapper gentleman was coming through the crowd to the front and asked Terry to dance. When she declined, he asked me.  I said I didn’t dance in public and he laughed and moved on. As Terry and I turned to go, the woman behind us said, “You just missed the opportunity of a lifetime.”  Before I could get the whole story, the stout “dance police” bustled up and informed Terry and I we needed to leave and get a ticket. Turns out it costs $5 to watch as well.

So… what did I miss? Was he a local dancer extraordinaire? Was he a old time movie star or blue grass  champion? Was she pulling my leg? I don’t think so and the more I think about it, the more I regret not dancing- $5 or not!  Who cares what I dance like- it was jitterbug and I have been known to be able to follow a competent dancer. Why didn’t I throw caution to the wind- heavens, it’s highly unlikely I will ever see any of these people again!  Next time- I’m gonna dance!

And my other question- what other chances of a lifetime have I passed up? Will someone always be there to tell me or will I just pass by life without fully experiencing the “opportunities of a lifetime”?  Those take your breath away moments that don’t come everyday.  I want to be aware and sensitive to the Lord who wants to show me fullness of life right here, right now.  I want to see in each person I encounter the opportunity that will never return for this particular moment – to be kind, to be available, to be Jesus with skin on. 

 I want to live life ready to dance.