I'm convinced that He who began a good work in me, will be faithful to complete it. Philippians 1:6
There was always the strange smell of sewer water in the booth, that my least favorite guest (I had to wait on) would sit. Jane my boss did everything she could to spray away the smell, but it always returned. Working at Lonestar in Cary NC off Kildaire farm road (in what is now an IHOP) was always a trip...to say the least.
As usual in most restaurants, the cook sold all the good pot, so we were stoned half the time we waited tables. We would regularly make a pipe out of a raw potato and tin foil, then smoked up in the walk in cooler or the trash bin outside.
I considered working at Lonestar as my very own version of seminary, where God was teaching me to love the unlovely. Waiting tables sucks out loud and God taught me many a lesson on how to swallow my pride and be His representative to hateful, ungrateful customers by walking in love.
Lonestar was also the closest restaurant to where Louis and I lived. I was currently on the "2 foot express" after losing my driving license for 7 years (getting 2 DUIs in 2 hours). So I used the time to walk home from work (at 4 pm) to listen to the demos of songs I had just written and recorded in my home studio.
I was also on my last year of being a volunteer at Highland United Methodist Church singing and playing in their contemporary service searching for my next place in life musically.
John, the picky mean ole nasty guest (that always asked to sit in the sewer smelling booth and for me to wait on him), had a guest with him today. A large friendly old man who actually looked at me in the eye when I came for their drink order.
I had another regular guest (from White Plains United Methodist Church down the street) who always asked for me to wait on her and her deaf husband. She always used a coupon and loved hearing my stories about where I was singing, my trips to Nashville and my dreams of being a worship leader. She was sitting directly behind John and his guest that day in my sewer smelling section.
I was excited to tell her about the combined service we were doing at Highland, where we actually got to leave the gym and sing in the sanctuary. My director (Jeff) was letting me sing a song I had written that he would accompany. I am such a chatty Cathy, that I didn't realize while spilling my story excitedly, that others would be listening.
When I returned to John's table (the picky mean ole guest with his friend) to bring their drinks, I heard, "So, your a songwriter? Do you have any of your original songs with you," the nice bigger guy asked?
"I sure do," I said, "I have my CD walk man in my coat under the computer...why? Do you want to hear one".
"Sure Jamie, do you know who this is?" the bigger guy asked pointing to John (the picky mean ole guest)
With a smile in my eye (knowing I was sugar coating the truth since he was difficult, but obeying Jesus and not complaining and walking in love) I said, "Yeah this is John Phillips, one of my favorite guests, he tips great!
"Yes this is John, my brother. It's also Neil Young's publishing lawyer and a heavyweight in the music industry. Go get your headphones, let us hear your songs, oh and I need some sweetener for my tea."
I was walking on adrenalin and freaking out in my head when I returned to the table with my headphones, walk man and Equal sweetener. I tried acting calm, but come on, I am Jamie Montoya, (bull in a china shop), my friends had to Jamie proof their room in college when I came over..there was nothing graceful about handing over my music.
At this point I had completely forgotten about any other table I was tending to, and went outside by the trash bin, looked in the sky and said, "Okay Jesus...this has to be you! I hold up everything you are and nothing I am. I promise that I will always point to you and give you the glory, because I am convinced that, You who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it!"
After I prayed, I took a hit of pot from the raw potato pipe the cook hid for us servers, to calm my nerves and went back inside.
The place seemed busier and everything was in slow motion. I have performed in front of thousands of people, up and down the eastern seaboard and across the country for years, but never was I so nervous as I returned to the table. Oh gosh, don't let me have a booger in my nose, help God...what do I say?
The headphones were sitting on the edge of the table and someone had already delivered their meal. I was obligated to go up and check on their steaks anyway, because John usually sent his back twice.
"How is everything fellas," I squeaked?
They had a different expression on their face, and John for the first time, turned and looked at me in the eye.
"Did you really write that song Full Steam Grace and Liberty's Spirit" he questioned me in his most authoritative lawyer tone?
"I sure did, and I poor man copyrighted them by sending the lyrics and chord chart to myself in the mail, makng it legal through the post office so the dated stamped on the envelope proves that I wrote these songs." I said in a voice that came from somewhere deep inside.
"First off, we need to register these songs. Do you have ten more like it?"
"Yes yes I do, I used to think songwriters were geniuses until I prayed for God to restore my talent after retiring my high heels. God did more than that. He turned me into a songwriter." I answered, and as usual always giving way too many details.
"I would like to offer you a recording contract, here and now Jamie Montoya. Sign this napkin with your signature as intent on letting me publish your music. Dont let anyone else hear your songs and meet me at my office first thing Monday morning"
I came to work that morning just regular Jamie Montoya. I left that afternoon (doing cartwheels) as Jamie Montoya the recording artist.
Thus began a journey of my life, that is still developing.
