she knows she did, too.
It happened kind of slowly and quickly at the same time.
I was just driving home, late at night along the terrible, Godeforesaken 405. Like, really, I think the 405's only purpose is to serve us a reminder of how shitty the world can get. Like, 405, get your ish together! Get fixed already! My goodness.
But anyway, I was driving home. It was well after 11pm. And then somehow - we really don't know how these things happen - the radio station turned to 95.9. LA's Christian radio. And so yeah, MAYBE I don't hate corny worship songs. MAYBE I actually sometimes find them oddly comforting, the way you see an old picture of yourself from middle school and you're all like 'I'm so glad that part of my life is over' but there's a familiar little warmth, a sweetness about it.
Anyway, Delilah hosts her famous Delilah radio show late at night and so much of my blackened, cynical heart hates listening to it. Because duh! I live in Los Angeles. The cool-of-the-cool. Where people juice fast and eat kale like it's made out of something other than kale (barf). Where people have nifty bangs and can get away with an exposed bra because it's really in right now.
So why would I listen to Delilah? A radio show where people call in love-sick and heart-sick and home-sick, where people call in from states in the middle of nowhere America and the south and the north, states where people eat white bread and poop cornhusks. A radio show which website literally just made my eyes hurt when I just googled it.
Well the other night I listened to it, like I do most nights. I listened and I cried. Big, crocodile tears streaming down my face. A woman called in and told Delilah her husband was recently diagnosed with bi-polar disorder and she missed him because he wasn't getting help and they were distant and she missed her best friend.
And yup, I wept. I drove down the hellhole of a freeway that the 405 is and I wept. Because strangely, I felt stupidity crawling through my mind. Stupidity and deep conviction.
How dare I think I'm better than anyone - how dare I think because of my geographical context that I'm "cooler" than anyone. That we aren't all just stupid ass humans messing up and trying to get this whole "life" thing.
I listened to this woman - this woman who God is wildly in love with - and I just felt so awful. And at the same time I felt a reassurance about the existence of God.
How great is it that God loves not only this woman from Nebraska who misses her husband but also me and you and that hipster writing a webseries at Urth Cafe and also that homeless man that wears that suit on Wilshire Blvd and how about your boss and your friend and that comedian over there and that little baby in his momma's arm and oh yeah your dog and the flowers and sparrows and EVERYTHING.
It was cool and it made me cry listening to Delilah. Who would have ever thought a radio show like that could cause a 23 year old gal to have an existential crisis, LOL AM I RIGHT?!?!
And you know what, I'm grateful for cheesy gumball radio shows. Because that woman was comforted that night. And I'm grateful for the crazy, wild, strange, weird, beautiful people of Los Angeles - I'm grateful for this effed up city. I'm grateful that I live in a vibrant, diverse place. And I'm grateful God loves this city and this world.
And you know what? God loves the damn 405 too. And that is the biggest testament of love, like, ever.
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