Visiting the Grand Ole Opry

The Grand Ole Opry has always held a special place in my heart. I can’t quite tell you why. I’m not an artist vying for a chance to perform on stage or a musician wishing for an opportunity to play in that storied venue. Still, there has always been something about the Opry that stirs a feeling deep within me. There’s magic there, and I feel it every time I’m in the audience. 

When I first lived in Nashville from 2011-2013, I was a Grand Ole Opry frequent flyer. I worked for Great American Country (Now GAC Family) and Country Aircheck and that allowed me a press pass for backstage access to special events. I was there for several special occasions like Keith Urban’s Opry induction and Loretta Lynn’s 80th birthday celebration. That night was especially special. Papa Clark had just passed away. He loved Loretta Lynn and it felt very kismet that I would get to meet and interview her just a few days after his funeral.  

While the backstage interviews were great, I would still purchase my own ticket to go as a fan. I went to countless shows on my own dime, sometimes sitting in great seats, others not so much. It was enough just to be there. I knew one of the first things I would do upon moving back to Nashville would be attend a show at the Grand Ole Opry. Less than two weeks into life as a Tennessee resident once more, I headed to the Opry this past Friday. 

It was magic. 

I chose Friday night’s show based on the fact that Dustin Lynch was performing. I had never seen him live and have been listening to both his Tullahoma and Blue in the Sky albums frequently as of late, so I figured the Opry would be a great place to see him – two birds, one stone if you will. 

After a bit of traffic-induced stress to get to the Opry on time, I found my balcony seat and settled in. It wasn’t a great seat, but that didn’t matter. I was there. As the lights went down, the curtain came up, and the ‘On Air’ sign turned on, my eyes misted over. It felt a bit like coming home – most of being back in Nashville has felt like that, but the Opry was the exclamation point.  

The night started with performances by Jeannie Seely, Rissi Palmer, and Whispering Bill Anderson. I’ve been fortunate to see Jeannie and Bill many times over (mostly at the Opry!) and I reflected on how lucky I am to be able to say that as they performed and cracked jokes. Bill Anderson even took a long-overdue photo with a fan who had a photo with him ruined back in 1968 (and looked so snazzy in his red jacket!). Rissi Palmer – I used to rock out to her “Country Girl” single way back when – gave an incredible performance (while I coveted her dress!) and then she had the privilege of telling her friend Miko Marks (also wearing a killer dress) who performed with her that she would be making her own Grand Ole Opry debut on October 14th. Their hug and the tears were such a beautiful moment of friendship – and yet another magic moment at the Opry. 

Then Anne Wilson performed and I had a moment. 

I was struggling earlier this year while still in Los Angeles. I knew I wanted and needed to be in Nashville. I knew I was being called to Nashville. Yet nothing was happening to get me there. I was applying for jobs, networking, doing all the things, yet day after day, I was still in L.A., lonely and sad. I played Anne’s song “My Jesus” over and over again. I would play it when I was in the car driving to work or to teach a barre class. I would play it driving home late in the evening from school or put it on repeat when I was cleaning my apartment. I needed to believe in the line “He makes a way when there ain’t no way.” 

Anne came out singing “My Jesus” at the Grand Ole Opry on Friday night. 

I sobbed. 

For the entirety of the song, I sat in my section 31, row H seat and cried. It was such a beautiful full circle moment for me (and we know the Opry loves an unbroken circle!). It felt like God was saying “See? I did it. You’re here. I made a way.” 

And I was. I was at the Opry, my favorite place in Nashville, listening to Anne Wilson sing the song that got me through a hard time. 

He made a way. 

After a brief intermission in which I wiped away my smeared mascara from Anne’s performance, For King & Country made their Opry debut. They, too, blew me away and as the Opry announcer said, it felt like we had been to church throughout the night. They were so very good and even played a Christmas song – “Little Drummer Boy” – in August. I think I may just have to snag tickets to their Christmas show at the Opry in December after hearing that… 

The night wrapped with comedian Gary Mule Deer who had me cracking up and of course, a fantastic performance from Dustin Lynch who, let me go on the record here, should always cover George Strait. I am now on a quest to hear him cover my favorite Strait song, “Run.”

I left my seat happy and content and headed downstairs to the Opry Shop. I had used an influencer discount code that got me a hatch print I wanted to pick up to frame for a Nashville gallery wall I’m working on in my new apartment, and because I am who I am, I also wanted a coffee mug. If you’ve been following me for any amount of time, you know I believe we’re constantly being shown signs from above. Just to the right of the Opry Shop entrance, there is a display case of memorabilia. One of the items is the music and lyrics to Ferlin Huskey’s “Wings of a Dove.” 

I shed a few more tears as I shopped. 

The whole night had felt so full circle, so much like God was telling me “you’re here, you’re where you’re supposed to be, I did what I said I was going to do.” But then I saw those lyrics. “Wings of a Dove” was a song my Papa Clark would belt out at random. I have so many memories of him walking through the house singing the chorus or else making us his famous sausage gravy for breakfast. He loved classic country, and that song in particular was one of his favorites. We played it at his funeral. It’s not a song you hear often if you’re out and about, and yet it tends to follow me. I hear it in the most random places or I see something like this lyric book when I’m least expecting it and usually when I need it most. Friday night at the Grand Ole Opry, it felt like another little God wink. Another little reminder that I’m where I’m supposed to be, that the small still voice that told me to move to Nashville earlier this year was right on the money. 

It had been nine years (!!!) since I was last at the Grand Ole Opry, but it still felt like home on Friday night. 

And it definitely still contains magic. 

I’m already planning my next visit.