A Song of Survival

I went to Target after church, as one does. Because I have Gladis, I took a short break on the couch before I went inside. I could hear this lovely violin music that was surprisingly loud.

I couldn’t imagine someone blasting that music from their car, so I thought it was probably one of those “Play classical music to keep kids from congregating in front of the store” ploys I have heard about.

When I walked up to the store, I realized I was wrong. There was a man with a violin and an amp out in front of Target. He was playing music from all kinds of genres. He had a sign that said “I have no work permit. Please help.”

I walked up to leave a few dollars in his case. As I dropped my money, I looked up and saw his face. He didn’t look like someone who had spent his life inside playing violin. He looked like a campesino, his skin tanned dark and deeply lined.

He also had an expression filled with sorrow and stress. This wasn’t someone who was playing for fun. He was playing for his life, and probably the lives of his loved ones.

I was happy to see so many people contribute to him. Parents gave their little kids money to go drop into his case. An elderly couple stopped their car and opened their windows to listen for a while.

He brought forth beauty from darkness. I hope he is well.