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The Loss of Tradition…Cat, That Is!

November 28, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                 November 28, 2012

 

We lost our cat on Sunday night, but lest you think this is going to be one of those articles that get all weepy, it’s not! Perhaps it is a bit therapeutic for me to write it, but it is also about some things I’ve been pondering.

Permit me a moment to recap. Carol and I came home Sunday afternoon only to be greeted by a cat in obvious pain. A trip to the emergency veterinarian clinic revealed it wasn’t a good situation, and the vet advised us to put Princess Malibu- Boo for short- to sleep.

Don’t be too amused by her name. She follows in a long line of head-shaking names that our daughters have christened our cats with, including “Tickles”, “Prince Charming Kisses”, “Duke”, and “Katie Katie Cocoa Puffs.” Some of our cats have had more names than I have.

On Monday I found myself looking for Boo around the house. Passing by the front door my habit returned of looking out the window of the door to see if she was waiting on the front step to get back in the house. Opening the door into the garage later that day I instinctively looked at the hood of my car to see if she was laying on it. (I seldom get bird droppings, but paw prints are like a hood design for me.) As I sat in my home study I looked at the ledge by the window where she quite often laid when the sun was shining through.

I realized that I had not only lost a cat, but also some of my daily traditions. I no longer have my hide-and-seek playmate for the evening. I can’t convince Carol to fill that role. If I went out to out hot tub for an evening soak the tradition has been that Boo would sit on top of the tub cover and peer into the night.

A part of my life was lost on Sunday, because things I’ve always done for the past eight years suddenly were finished.

I thought about that in regards to the church. Not cats dying, mind you, but rather traditions being lost.

There are many traditions that should never be lost, but there are a lot of traditions that just become lost. It is neither a good thing nor a bad, it just is. Like a cat that is not destined to live forever, but rather one day to just no longer be.

That is a hard thing for people of the church to hear. We make sacred cows out of a lot of baloney. We look for a world that is filled with things that suit us, while prickly points are vacuumed away.

I remember the first time Carol and I put up a Christmas tree, and she decorated it all wrong, because I was raised to think that there was only one way to decorate a Christmas tree…and she was brought up in a family that had found a different way. My tradition died, but in its place was born a new tradition that has suited our family of five well. Letting go of my understanding, however, was hard!

All of us have our areas of inflexibility. All congregations battle a desire for attracting new people with an addiction to keeping things the way we like it.

Will we ever get another cat? I don’t know. I’m still looking for the one we just lost.

Categories: children, Christianity, Community, Humor, Jesus, love, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
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The Pain of Momentum

November 21, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                November 21, 2012

 

The knees are going!

Well, actually, the right knee! I’m reminded of it each morning when I come downstairs. Stiff, inflexible, uncomfortable, like a broken bike that you’ve always had, and can’t decide whether or not to junk it or restore it.

As I start coming down the stairs my momentum increases, but the pain in my knee doesn’t decrease. “Ouch…ouch…ouch” accompanies each step down.

The knees of a 58 year old former marathon runner when running shoes weren’t so cushy and former basketball player who still likes to drain the eighteen-footer are knees that announce their presence every morning when I wake up.

We probably don’t think about the challenge of getting from the top of the stairs to the bottom. I’m thinking of following my granddaughter’s example- laying down and sliding down on the stomach. I’m sure she would enjoy seeing me do that.

We talk a lot in churches these days about momentum; that when we get momentum in our ministry there is a snowball effect. There is truth in that statement. Churches become “Christianized iPhones.” People flock to the one, or ones, that are deemed “with it” and “hot.”

Blackberries used to be hot. Now they are in recovery mode.

Momentum is good if those moving are clear on where they are heading. It seems like there was a story in the Bible where a herd of pigs rushed over the side of a cliff. Sometimes momentum is following the crowd in a rush to someplace that we’re not sure of.

Back to my knees! Momentum is sometimes partnered with pain. Moving forward is not always a total satisfaction experience. Aching knees is the rider on that horse coming down the steps. Movement unsettles parts of the body.

But momentum is necessary, and to be strived for. I can’t get from upstairs to downstairs without some pain…even on my tummy! A church can’t move forward without experiencing some pain in the process.

It gets visualized and verbalized in various ways. The 70’s style of the sanctuary needs changing, and it will cause some pain in people who have become accustomed to it. After all, it takes at least three Baptists to change a light bulb- one to change it, and at least two others to stand there and comment on how nice the old one was.

Starting an AA group in the church will cause pain, because there who still equate alcoholism as something that happens out there in the world, and the church needs to have that separation from it.

I don’t have to say anything about how different types of music in church cause knees to throb.

A new ministry initiative to a population of immigrants who have settled in the area around the church will cause pain. It is pain experienced as a result of an obedient congregation. The momentum created in becoming a welcoming community will also have it’s sparks, like a sagging muffler hitting the pavement as the car moves down the street.

The question is how much pain is too much pain? Does the tail wag the dog? Does the knee guide the body? What is the tipping point between “Spirit-led momentum” and “holy hesitation?”

It’s interesting that as I progress through the day my knee pain lessens. In fact, mid-afternoon trips down staircases are often pain-free and quicker. No ouchs, no moans and groans. I’m a man on a motivated mission. Put a trip to YoYogurt for ice cream at the bottom of the steps and just see how I can pick up the pace!

Momentum for the church is sometimes like that.

But that’s the exception!

Categories: Christianity, Community, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
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Pastor For Dinner

November 1, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                         November 1, 2012

 

“The mashed potatoes are ready”, came the voice from the kitchen.

“Is the table set?”

“I think we still need steak knives.”

“Dinner rolls are hot out of the oven.”

“Pitchers of iced tea and water are on the table.”

“Okay! Let’s gather everyone at the table and say grace.”

The six people of various ages converged on the dining room and took their assigned seats. It was their Sunday afternoon custom- dinner after church. It wasn’t called lunch because it took the place of two meals for the day and was served promptly at two o’clock…if church didn’t run long! “Long” was defined as anything exceeding one hour and ten minutes. The pastor was expected to do on-the-spot sermon revisions if the singing, announcements about everything that was happening that week, prayer requests and actual praying time, story time for the children, scripture reading, mission moment, and offering ran long. If Aunt Bessie needed to share about her sister Mildred’s gall bladder untrasound, and Deacon Herman was led by the Spirit to present the prayer request of people using excessive speed driving into the church parking lot, then sometimes the pastor’s message became more of a summary meditation thought.

Pot roasts were in the crock pots, and the Methodists needed to be beaten to the restaurants. Three points and a poem were often “Cliffs Noted” into one point and a quote. When it came down to expository preaching and pot roasts the perceptive pastor knew when to yield.

“Dear Lord! We thank you for your many blessings, and this meal that we are about to partake of. May it be used to give us strength! Amen!”

Five other amens echoed through the room, and then the food started it’s rotation around the table.

“Beautiful solo this morning by Margaret!”

“Yes, it was! She has such an incredible voice.”

“I didn’t realize that Henry Smith was having prostate problems.”

“Nor I! And how about Lorraine having to put her dog down. So sad!”

“Did you see little Angela during the story time? She kept making faces at the pastor. I couldn’t help but laugh.”

“So precious!”

“My insides were making faces at the pastor during the message. What was his point anyway?”

“Don’t ask me! He lost me even before he finished reading the scripture.”

“I timed him today. Twenty-six minutes and thirty-four seconds.”

“He needs to cut it down to twenty.”

“Fifteen, if he would just speak faster!”

“I hate it when he brings in world hunger and poverty during his sermon. It makes me feel guilty having dinner.”

“And, Lord knows, we deserve a nice dinner after having to endure another Sunday lecture.”

“And when he uses one of those more contemporary versions of the Bible it just turns me off.”

“The King James is such beautiful language. It’s almost like listening to a Shakespeare play.”

“I don’t like bringing current events into the pulpit. Stick with what Jesus said and we’ll be fine, but you start talking about what’s going on in the world and you just lose people.”

“Would anyone care for another roll?”

“Please!”

“I tell you…Sunday dinner is the most peaceful time of the week for me.”

“Me too!”

“Amen!”

Categories: Christianity, Community, Faith, Grace, Humor, Jesus, love, Pastor, Prayer, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
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Form Dependent

October 31, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                     October 31, 2012

 

I’ve coached a few basketball players over the years who have terrible shooting form, so I spend a lot of time trying to correct it!

Balance. Feet shoulder width apart and knees bent

Eyes.

Elbows in.

Follow through.

I’ve had a few players, however, who have been decent shooters with flawed form, and when I have corrected them they have become poor shooters with great form. In essence, they become more concerned about their form than making the shot.

They start asking questions like “How did that look? Were my feet okay? How was my follow through?”

Questions that seem to miss the point that their shot created a crack in the backboard. They threw up a brick, but they had perfect form.

Sometimes I think we’re like that in the worshiping community of the church. We’re hypnotized by the form and miss the Presence.

Did we say enough prayers, sing enough hymns, raise our hands enough in praise, have a long enough sermon (or maybe a short enough sermon!)? Was the service orderly and controlled? Did the pastor may the right words at the distribution of the communion elements? Was he well-dressed and eloquent?

Most of us would probably say that our worship services aren’t about the form, but about worshiping in the presence of our Lord. That may very well be! The test is to have a worship gathering where everything doesn’t go according to the plan.

A crying baby is kept in the service and sometimes to bawl.

An elderly man falls over in the pew and has to be resuscitated.

Someone forgets to put bread on the communion plates.

The sound system goes dead.

A little girl keeps flashing the congregation during the children’s story.

The offering plate gets dumped in the midst of the main aisle.

A soloist loses her voice.

You can tell if a congregation worships the form or the presence when something unplanned trumps the plan; when a dose of grace is required to go on because a young man has just stood up as the pastor has ended his prayer, and openly admitted that he is an alcoholic.

Moments of uncomfortable truth when we have to put the form on the shelf and trust in the leading of the Spirit are revealing of a church’s heart.

Don’t misunderstand me. We worship “form” in various aspects of ministry. Try replacing Sunday morning donut time with healthy bran muffins. The possibility of a riot will go up exponentially if you try it more than one Sunday in a row. In the Baptist tradition changing a light bulb unexpectedly might cause a letter-writing campaign. In some churches using a different version of the Bible than the congregation culture is used to could cause facial spasms to begin.

So form takes different forms. Form is a route to a destination, but, as I’ve found out in flying back to southern Ohio to see my parents, there’s more than one way to reach it. Sometimes my route takes me from Colorado Springs to Houston to Charlotte to Huntington, West Virginia. Sometimes I go by car to Denver, and then fly to Columbus, where I pick up my rental car and head south. And sometimes…well, hopefully just one time…I get stuck where I am (Hurricane Sandy ripple effects) and never am able to leave my point of origin.

There’s been a few worship gatherings like that. No matter the form, no matter the liturgy, mo matter the planning…the plane just never seems to get off the ground…and we know it.

I still teach my players the fundamentals of shooting, the perfect form, but realize that prayers get answered not necessarily because the knees were properly bent.

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The Dread and The Draw

October 26, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                         October 26, 2012

 

To be a pastor is to blessed and cursed at the same time. Before you start a petition to have me thrown off a cliff…kind of like the crowd’s reaction to Jesus first sermon (Luke 4:14-30)…let me expound! I’m good at taking a few words from Scripture and talking about them for 30 minutes!

The blessing is to walk alongside people in their celebrations and struggles. It’s to know that you can be used by God to share a word of encouragement with them; or just sit quietly with them as they grieve and be present; or be the storyteller to a group of children; or lead people in worship and discovery. Extraordinary blessings!

It’s a curse in that your time is not your own. There is always the anxiety of a date night with my wife being detoured towards the hospital. Saturday nights are not spent relaxing in front of the TV, or reading a mystery novel. Sometimes people get upset with you because you were suppose to automatically know about their mother’s surgery even though nothing had been said.

Most weeks, however, the blessings tip the scales heavily away from the curses.

It points to another tension that is evident in most pastors on Sunday afternoon or evening. It’s the dread of another week beginning, but also the draw of a new beginning. Monday brings hope, but also tired realism. The sharing of “a word from the Lord” is a blessing, an opportunity; and yet, Monday is the face smack moment of knowing that there needs to be a new word for the next Sunday. A pastor feels blessed that people want “a word” from him. A pastor feels cursed in that people expect “a word” from him.

I know that I need to vacate for a few days when the dread on Monday creates a tsunami of despair on Tuesday and Wednesday.

Every pastor, no matter the gender, race, denomination, or size of congregation he/she serves, goes through periods where there is a vacancy sign in receiving words from the Lord. Our rest is interrupted by the scene of standing before the congregation on a Sunday and saying “There is no word from the Lord this week!”

Someone approaches a pastor after worship and says, “Great sermon, pastor!” Although the affirmation is appreciated, there is also the renegade thought running through the pastor’s mind about whether next week’s message can be as meaningful. Pastors have nightmares about sermons that are complete disconnects with the hearers.

As I said, however, Sunday night brings that tension point of dread and draw. The draw is that Monday is a new beginning. The Christian walk is about new beginnings, new life, new things, new hope. Monday is a reaffirmation that God is about something new. It’s about seeing his truth, and presence in another new way.

Monday is like the beginning of a new book. The danger is that books can become never-ending and overwhelming, like a seminary student who looks at the stack beside his study desk and realizes that there are twelve other new books that will need to be started in addition to the one he has just opened.

That’s the dread! An ongoing avalanche of newness that results in a desire for some oldness. Sometimes our soul sings “Tell me the old, old story!”

Pastors can identity whether they are in a period of dread or a period of draw. We’re pretty sharp in many ways, even as we’re clueless in others.

All of us have heard the wisecracks about pastors working only one day a week. The truth of the matter is that, even with a day off, we pastor seven days a week. It’s a constant calling that we can not separate ourselves from, almost like being a father or a son is an “always.”

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FFL- Fantasy Fellowship League

October 15, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                    October 15, 2012

Fantasy Football has become an obsession in recent years. Recent research has come out with the conclusion that $6.5 billion in work productivity is lost in this country during the fantasy football season. There’s even a radio station on satellite radio dedicated to fantasy sports. Eight percent of guys who play fantasy football have been dumped by their girlfriend because of their obsession with it.

Our church has a fantasy football league. It’s fun! The only cost to be involved in it is the blows to your pride that occur quite often. On-line trash talking is encouraged with a smidgeon of mercy. We meet on an evening in August to do the league draft and enjoy harassing each other on the ineptitude of each decision. Two years after the fact I am still being ribbed for taking a kicker, David Akers, in the seventh round. The funny thing is that I can’t remember anyone else I drafted that season, but I remember my kicker!

In case, you’re not familiar with fantasy football, remembering who your kicker is, but not your QB, running back, or receiver…is a bad sign!

In thinking about it I got to wondering about starting a Fantasy Fellowship League. If fantasy football can be such a hit perhaps taking some of the heroes of the faith and drafting them on to teams might be the new hot method of evangelism.

Who might be the QB, the field general? David? Solomon? Gideon?

Next we’d go for two prophets. We could even break them into major and minor to further specialize matters. Give me Isaiah, and the two “Z’s”- Zephaniah and Zechariah. John the Baptist is tempting, however! I’m just not sure how the locusts would go over in the locker room.

Of course, we’d have to have a position for “prayer warrior.” I’d get Daniel early on.

Apostles would need to be drafted. Peter rises to the top, but you have to be prepared for his inconsistency. Walking on water one moment, denying Christ the next; proclaiming who Jesus is here, but then a while later taking an unncessary and untimely penalty by cutting off a guy’s ear. That’s unnecessary roughness taken to the extreme!

You’d have to draft a church. The Church at Philippi would be a good choice, although they were a little bit over the top in their joyfulness. Stay away from Corinth! Too many factions, and off-the-field distractions.

A hero of the faith would be on the list. Abraham would be taken early, not much before Joseph with his flamboyant coat. The question would be who would go out on a limb and pick Rahab.

Of course, the next thing is how you would keep score in this FFL. I haven’t quite figured that our yet, but there’s got to be a way.

Years ago there was an intense youth event called “Bible Quiz Bowl.” Teams of young people from different churches would compete against one another for the title of Bible Quiz Bowl Champions.”

Perhaps the Fantasy Fellowship League could be a new wave of competition. It would be great to have a pastor’s division where pastors could show their credible managing skills. I could see a Baptist deacon trash talking with a Presbyterian elder. The FFL could replace all those church softball leagues that have been established with the hidden motive of getting the power-hitting left-fielder to come to church…during softball season.

This could be big…I mean huge! What worries me, however, is that eight percent who got dumped because of fantasy football obsession. Could it be that eight percent will leave the church because they got trounced by someone who has a hot field general one week and forgets to practice humbleness? Could there be a multitude of thorns in sides?

I need to check our church’s insurance policy to see what kind of coverage we might have. In the meantime I need to be thinking about a kicker. I was leaning towards Balaam’s donkey, but he has a reputation for veering to the right!

Categories: Christianity, Community, Faith, Grace, Humor, Jesus, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
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Pastor Appreciating Month

October 11, 2012

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                 October 11, 2012

 

I’m not sure when it started, and who started it, and how it came to find a home in October, but whatever the unanswered questions are we are eleven days into Pastor Appreciation Month. On Sunday I’ll wear the tie that some of our church kids made for me last year. It’s a great tie with hand prints of each of the kids on it.

Other people over the years have sent me cards, Starbucks gift cards, restaurant gift cards, books, taken Carol and me out to dinner, and expressed their gratitude in a number of ways.

Not to be mushy, but there is the other side of the ministry. It’s the side where the pastor appreciates. It’s the side where the heart of the pastor is meshed with the congregation in a multitude of life-sharing ways, the side where the passions of the pastor are expressed and owned by the people of the Body.

The pastor appreciates a congregation where people feel comfortable enough with him to talk about their spiritual questions, as well as their faith journeys.

The pastor appreciates a congregation where people mention to him something he said in a recent sermon that hit home in an experience they had not long after that.

The pastor appreciates people who initiate hugs.

The pastor appreciates people who ask him if they can pray for him.

The pastor appreciates children who give him high fives and are disappointed if there is a Sunday when there isn’t a children’s story time during morning worship.

The pastor appreciates sitting in Starbucks with someone who just needs to talk.

The pastor appreciates a congregation where the style of music is not nearly as important as the worship of God.

The pastor appreciates a youth group that sabotages his office.

The pastor appreciates a congregation that likes his Far Side cartoons that he posts outside his office.

The pastor appreciates a congregation that is inviting…and continuing. That is, they invite someone to come to church with them, and then continue the conversation over lunch.

The pastor appreciates a congregation that comes alongside persons with mobility problems.

The pastor appreciates a congregation that recognizes that they are living the Gospel.

The pastor appreciates a congregation that wants to make a difference in the community.

The pastor appreciates a congregation that lives out grace, not just expects to receive grace.

The pastor appreciates a congregation that becomes uncomfortable with the implications of the Gospel.

The pastor appreciates a congregation that he is not motivated or manipulated by money, and yet desires to make sure he receives a fair wage.

The pastor appreciates a congregation that sees value in each person, regardless of gender, age, race, financial or marital status.

The pastor appreciates a congregation that honors his day off, and, once in a while, even forces him to take a break.

The pastor appreciates a congregation that looks for ways that they can help him become more effective as a pastor.

The pastor appreciates a congregation that affirms, but also corrects.

The pastor appreciates a congregation that moves according to the voice of God, not according to who yells the loudest.

The pastor appreciates a congregation that claps!

The pastor appreciates a congregation where coffee can be taken into the sanctuary.

The pastor appreciates a congregation that is appreciative!

And perhaps most of all, the pastor appreciates a congregation that is appreciative long after October has passed!

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Becoming Senior Menu Eligible

April 29, 2009

A new day is dawning! I’m not sure whether to welcome it or dread it, but it’s coming either way.
On Cinco de Mayo I reach 55! I will now become eligible to order off of the senior menu at a number of restaurants. It is the section that, for the past several decades, I have raced by in my decisions of what to have for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. It’s the section that does not feature cheeseburgers, southern fried chicken, or a slab of ribs smothered in sweet honey barbecue sauce. No bottomless pasta bowl offers are on it.
I haven’t looked that closely yet, but I don’t believe it has a dessert section in it. I figure that the restaurants assume that extra green beans on the dinner plate are preferable to extra hot fudge on the sundae. It’s the senior version of being given the TV remote control, told you can watch whatever you want, and then discovering there are only two channels. It’s guided freedom.
It has, instead, featured the equivalent of a “No Trespassing” sign at it’s heading by simply saying “55 and Over Menu.”
For some reason I’m not feeling the same way I did when I discovered I was tall enough to finally ride the “Scrambler” at the amusement park. Being able to order a special serving size of liver and onions does not prompt me to begin salivating.
I wonder if the server will check my ID the first time I attempt to get the “turkey roll.”
“Sir, that part of the menu is for those 55 and older.”
“I am! See.”
“Well, I guess you are! Well…you look very well preserved for your age!”
Life is filled with milestones. Sometimes they are welcomed and sometimes they are dreaded. The birth of my grandson was welcomed. My first root canal was dreaded. Both were experienced—celebrated or endured—and both taught me. The first about the celebration of new life and the joy it brings; and the second about flossing better in the future.
“Becoming Senior Menu eligible” reminds me that I’m not getting any younger; that even as I press on towards the purpose God has for my life, and fulfilling the potential He has gifted me with, I am faced with the changes and challenges of growing older. I will not stop pressing towards fulfilling my purpose, but I will survey the path a little more carefully.
A few years ago I was training to run the Pike’s Peak Ascent race, a 13.2 mile run to the top of the mountain, for insane people. I would train by going over to Barr Trail, the trail that is also used for the race, and running usually four to five miles up. When I did that I would, of course, have to turn around and run back down. Running down is harder on you physically than running up because of the pounding your ankles and knees take. The first couple of times I ran down I stumbled several times on tree roots sticking out, or rocky places that one of my feet would clip as I went over it. After a while I discovered that running down wasn’t about how fast I could get back down to the bottom, but rather “how fast I could get back down to the bottom safely.” I found out from experience that there were certain spots to slow down at, or certain places where it was better to pass to on the right side of the trail rather than the middle.
Hitting 55 is like a “life point” where you, hopefully, have become a little wiser, a little slower, a little more limited, but also a little clearer on the direction you’re heading in.
55 on 5/5!
“Waiter, waiter! Liver and onions for everybody!”

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The Susan Boyle Effect

April 23, 2009

 

I admit. I can’t watch it enough!

I’ve viewed Susan Boyle’s performance on “Britain’s Got Talent” probably twenty times. The YouTube video has passed forty million hits.

If you’ve been out of the country—actually out of the world—Susan Boyle is a 47 year old, never-been-married, never-been-kissed, unemployed, church charity worker, who is, at first glance, strikingly unimpressive! Her common appearance is the first thing that hits you. At a school dance she would blend in with the wallflowers. Her companion is her cat Pebbles.

She is so “un-showbizzy” that the audience and three judges wrote her off before she even started singing. If tomatoes had been available the stage would have been slimed…and then the music began!

She sang a song from Les Miserables that her hero, Elaine Paige, had sung. Her performance was better than the one sung by her hero. I keep hit the play button on the YouTube video to that moment when the faces of the judges change from “Why Did I Take This Job” to “Oh! My Gosh!” Three seconds in the audience erupts in applause and astonishment.

It is a classic case of determining a book by its cover without bothering to even read the table of contents. It’s pre-judgment in its finest example. It’s the musical real-life version of the movie Hoosiers, which was based on a true story, but seasoned with a touch of Hollywood to make it that much more entertaining. Susan Boyle was entertaining, talented, but in real time! She’s Napoleon Dynamite with a personality and a smile; the average student who suddenly produces an authentic best-seller. She’s the clarinet player in a group that thinks percussion is where it’s at! She’s the little boy who gives Jesus his lunch in order to help out with the hunger pangs of the multitude. Who would have thought such a sacrifice would touch the whole crowd.

“Susan Boyle” is a story of the value that we so easily yank away from someone. It’s an example of the pecking order of life that people even exercise in front of a TV screen, or, in this case, an internet web site. How quickly we settle on first impressions! We tend to assign a value before opening the box.

The majestic moments in this situation are how quickly the audience and judges put the brakes on where they thought this was going, and turned the bus around.

It’s a heartwarming story that really does elicit tears. And yet in the midst of this incredible happening to an average middle-aged woman there have come doubters. Today I noticed that the skeptics surfaced, insinuating that it was all staged. It’s as though no one can so quickly change a hissing, ridiculing audience. Our world is more prone to think the worst of people than allow Cinderella stories to play out.

Susan Boyle, unintentionally mind you, has become a person of hope and realized dreams. In her a multitude of people see that perhaps their lives can find fulfilled purpose and realize what they only dreamed of. Our world infrequently allows average people to make vivid lasting impressions.

Susan Boyle has given us cause to celebrate and re-assess our value. Perhaps for a few moments it has caused us to slow our judgmental attitudes down long enough to hear the hidden sweet sounds of life that drift by us unnoticed.

 

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