MPJ abides

A while back, when I was still in late high school/early college, I worked for a couple summers as a counselor at a girls' summer camp. The camp was located in the mountains of North Carolina, near Asheville, which is one of the most beautiful places on God's green earth. We spent our days hiking, singing songs, playing games, and building campfires. And I got paid for it. Pretty sweet.

However, the hours were long - as in 24-7, six days a week, nonstop mothering of a cabin full of little tiny girls. Making sure they were eating well. Brushing their hair because they wouldn't bother to do it themselves. Inviting all nine of them into my single bed with me every time there was a thunder storm. It was fun, of course. It was wonderful. But it could be extremely exhausting after a while. Which is why we counselors cherished so greatly that one day a week when we got to drive out of the camp gate and be free women for a few hours.

On one such particular "Day Off", I wandered into some friendly, hippy-owned music shop that smelled of incense and old records and began aimlessly digging through a pile of clearance CDs. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, but I happened to come across a CD with cover art that intrigued me for whatever reason. The artist was Matthew Perryman Jones. I'd never heard of him before. I don't think anyone had. But I took a chance and bought the CD, listening to it as soon as I got into my car that day. And I absolutely loved it.

I still love that CD. It's my little mountain-find-treasure. I listen to it all the time. And sometimes I wonder whatever became of this guy, Matthew Perryman Jones...

Which is why I was so thrilled recently to be driving along, navigating my way through uptown Charlotte, and hear this on NPR:

MPJ abides. It's good knowing he's out there.