My Name's Jess

I've always felt protected. And I'm not talking about that "safe feeling" we may get when around family or other loved ones. I'm talking about being covered...enveloped...cloaked, by something ethereal. Something divine. When I was younger, I felt like a guardian angel was constantly beside me. What some refer to as a "conscious," I always regarded as the voice of my angel. Whether it was that feeling in the pit of my stomach, whisper of warning in the back of my head, or even simple things that seemed to be a sign from above; I always thought of these feelings and experiences as direct communication from the "man with the master plan."

I was in elementary school when my family's car broke down on the highway, on the way to Louisiana. Engine problems had stopped us on a bridge, with no lights and no form of communication (there were no cell phones back then) in the dead of the night. I remember my little brothers crying because they were scared and even the panicked/shaken looks on my parents' faces as they whispered about what to do. And me? I had that feeling again. I was covered. My family was covered, and we would all be okay. In my mind, my angel had already started solving the issue- we just had to wait patiently.

My dad took off walking down the highway, trying to flag down some help, while my mom got me and my two brothers out of the car and away from the edge of the bridge. Within about ten minutes (which seemed much longer at the time), a huge 18-wheeler pulled in front of us. My dad came jogging back in the darkness. After speaking to the man through the truck window, he looked to us, standing in a scared huddle by our van. "I found help!" he said.

My mom looked at my dad with a wary look. "He's just going to give us a lift to the truck stop," my dad said. "It's a mile up the road, at the next exit." My dad sounded surprisingly reassured. We all headed to the truck.

On the way to the truck stop, my family stayed quiet as the truck driver (Frank) talked to my dad. He was pale as a ghost and pretty scraggly-looking, but something about him radiated positively. I listened over the rumble of the truck's wheels. "It's all going to be alright," Frank said to my dad. "God never puts folks in a place without reason. I was meant to see you all tonight." The more he conversed with my dad, the more sure I became. It was clear...this man was an angel! I tugged on my mom's sleeve as they talked.

"Mom," I whispered. "Look! He's an angel...I can see his wings under his jacket." My mom shushed me but looked warily at the trucker's back. To her, he probably looked hunch-backed. But to me, I was convinced that there were big, strong wings hidden underneath that leather.

"I'm gonna take y'all to this truck stop right up here," the angel said as we pulled off the exit. "I come through here once or twice a-week while I'm making my stops to sit down at the diner next door. I always get a coffee from a nice lady named Angela. I know everyone in there and I'm sure they'll take care of you."

As we parked next to the diner, the angel hopped out. "I'm gonna get some gas," he said. "Y'all take your time, I'll be in there in a bit to make sure you got everything sorted out."

My dad nodded and headed inside to use the phone, while my mom escorted my brothers and me to a booth in the diner. Sure enough, we were greeted moments later by an older black woman by the name of "Angela." She took our order and gave us a list of numbers to call for tow services and car shops. After about ten minutes, my dad came walking back to the table.

"Frank's gone," he said, confused.

"But I thought..." Mom started.

"Who's that y'all lookin' for?" Angela asked, as she approached with a coffee pot.

"Frank," Dad answered. "He's the truck driver that brought us here. I just wanted to give him some money for his troubles..."

Angela stared at us strangely, "Well, I know every single trucker that comes through here Sir...I don't know no Frank."

Mom and Dad got quiet. "He said he passes through a couple times a week.." my mom explained. "He actually mentioned your name, too."

Angela shook her head and asked the other three waitresses if they knew of a Frank. They all shook their heads, confused. "I'm sorry Sir," Angela said. "Never heard of 'em."

I smiled and looked up. Covered.

Have you been touched by an angel?

Today, I came across a news story that begged the question, "Why? Why did you stop making music? Why did you leave us?" This question was posed to one of my idols, Ms. Lauryn Hill. Let's just say I, along with millions of others, have been desperately wondering this same question for years. I won't paraphrase the article, but I will say that it did not disappoint. Here's the comment that I made after reading/listening to it:

This interview gave me exactly what I needed to hear. I appreciate the fact that Lauryn takes her music (art) as seriously as I do. It's like waiting on good food. I don't mind if the chef takes a long time to make my food, as long as the food comes out as close to perfection as possible. Don't get me wrong- I may be hungry, but I'm still willing to wait. You can't rush perfection.

I hope that Lauryn takes as much time as she needs to prepare herself for a return to us. Honestly, I'm really just encouraged to know that, at some point, she will return. Until then, I'll continue to be patient.

I can't lie- I feel guilty for seeing Lauryn's disappearance as abandonment. We often forget that stars are people, too. I truly respect that fact that she was able to step away from the limelight to not only take care of her family, but take care of herself too. Now that she's ready (on her own terms), I feel like her return will bring some truly authentic music. I'M ECSTATIC!

Read the full article here: http://n.pr/aodyMe
Listen to the full interview here: http://n.pr/bHSJcy