Flagstaff, Arizona. My first Folk Festival and I was about as nervous as I could be. 2017 was turning into a year of tragedy and illness that'd left me exhausted but bound and determined to accomplish my goal of singing in a folk festival. Although I had been accepted in two previous ones, both had gotten cancelled and I was starting to feel cursed. By the time it was my turn to take the little stage in the art gallery my nerves were overwhelming. I performed my first song haltingly and then lived my worst nightmare, the very one that had been waking me for weeks. Forgetting to take my capo off, I couldnt find my key to sing and couldnt comprehend why. Dejected I watched as people started to walk out on me.

Deep breaths. "Y'all, i have a confession to make...this is my first festival and I am nervous as all get out. But if you'll hang in here with me, i promise I'll sing my heart out for you." And i did...and a remarkable thing happened, I felt that connection with those that stayed behind.

Such a heady feeling to make it through. A little boy asked me to sign his program along with another family. But the most humbling moment came when a beautiful and delicate elderly woman took my hand and told me I had the husky, throaty voice she always wished she'd had.

...​the stuff that dreams are made of.