Raising me my mom was - what’s the word? - careful. In those days we didn’t wear seat belts and we ingested second-hand smoke at restaurants and we rubbed baby oil on ourselves instead of sunscreen, so careful wasn’t as careful as careful would be today. But it was still careful. For instance, no playing in the rain. My mother would never have let me play in the rain, not with lightning and all. Because Lord knows lightning kills people far more often than car windshields or lung and skin cancer. Lord knows.
Yesterday, we tempted fate, lived dangerously. And there’s nothing mom can do about it.
We were “watching” Redneck Neighbor’s kids as well. So our kids had other kids with which to stare death in the face. Best to face one’s mortality in good company. I’ve always said that.
Gabriella and Averi (Yes, that Averi) practiced for their future sorority days. “ Now, hold out your cup. Good. Now smile while trying to stand up.” *snap* “Good girls.”
Meanwhile the boys made buckets of mud and Penelope got carried around by Redneck Neighbor’s oldest like the princess she believes herself to be.
And watching other people walk and run around is tiring for a princess.
Fatalities? None. We lived to tell the tale. But don’t tell my mom.
Compassion just let me know that for the fiscal year that just ended over 1400 kids were sponsored at my concerts, speaking gigs and through this site (1472, to be exact). 1400 kids who now receive letters of encouragement from sponsors. 1400 kids who are fed, educated, have a safe place to play and lots of friends to play with, and who are being told and shown daily that Jesus loves them and God has a plan mapped out for their life. And 1400 sponsors who are bringing the kingdom to the developing world and having their own perspective shifted at the same time.
Thanks to Becky for doing life without me for almost half the year, for taking care of our kids so well while I’m out asking people to take care of someone else’s. Thanks to Brian for teaching me how to speak better wen he was my road manager - specifically, how much to speak. Thanks to Brody for road managing and manning the Compassion table for me for part of this last year - for getting me to the gigs and being quick and kind under pressure with all those sponsors crowding around him with cash and paperwork in hand. Thanks to Ben for taking up those positions as well as booking me for the last few months - for masterfully covering the details and for asking first how many kids were sponsored and then whether it was a good show. Thanks to Bush for traveling with me when Ben couldn’t - for the constant sincere words of encouragement. Thanks to Keely for filling the holes in my schedule when Ben and I can’t - for hearing “no” hundreds of times and still working for the “yes.” Thanks to every promoter, sound guy, church custodian, college chaplain and activities director, caterer, hotel clerk, rental car agent, pilot, and flight attendant who has played their part well. Thanks to our church and our neighbors for looking after my wife and kids when I was out of town.
And thanks to YOU - the folks who come to shows and bring friends, send digital inspiration to my inbox, link to my blog, pass my name and a hearty recommendation on to friends who book me or come out to see a show. On behalf of 1472 kids (and that’s just this last year), thank you VERY much.
Because of you all only a handful of artists’ audiences sponsored more children last year (five, actually). I don’t mention that because this is a contest - it is not - but to put that number in perspective for you. It’s pretty incredible. I’ve got no record deal, no radio single, no thousands of butts in the seats. All I have is y’all - a compassionate army doing many small but great things to change the lives of children. Thank you! We truly did this together.
Do you guys know of a great photographer who also has a widely read blog?
Let me know, please. Thanks.
I have a hot date today with a mother of three who needs to get out of the house. She wants to see a movie. She wants to see Get Smart but I’m not so sure. And then there’s Hancock, which (don’t spoil it for me) apparently takes a hard left halfway through and leaves half the crowd booing and half the crowd cheering. Not sure which half we’ll be in and I hate to waste a night out just to find out. There’s no way Becky’s going to see Wanted - I’m not sure if this movie even has a plot, a point or great acting but it has Angelina Jolie. Shooting stuff. Angelina. Jolie. I’m just sayin’. Angelina Jolie is in it. I might enjoy that. Perhaps that’s not a good thing. We’ve seen King Fu Panda and WALL-E already. Actually, that’s all we’ve seen this Summer. Oh, the exciting life of parents. What else is there?
Have you seen anything lately that you would risk your reputation (and possible banning for life from this website) to suggest?
You’ve heard this before but here it is again - with an ending this time. A while back a friend’s father-in-law was beaten and robbed, left with a fractured eye socket and broken hand. He didn’t have insurance and my friend and I didn’t have enough cash between us to pay for treatment either.
The church I attended at the time wasn’t able to help us out and I didn’t want to turn to the State of Tennessee on account of having already shot my mouth off around here about how the Church, not the State, is charged with the task of meeting the needs of our friends and neighbors.
I called the church again and again, talking to a different person each time, and finally found an assistant - and we all know assistants really run the world anyway don’t we? - who was willing to help. I asked her if she could find an opthamologist and an orthopaedic surgeon in our church’s database and after a few clicks of the mouse she read me the names and numbers of a couple aptly-skilled church members.
I called the doctors and explained the situation. They both cheerfully (seriously, they seemed excited about this) agreed to see my friend’s father-in-law and didn’t charge me a dime.
Now, here’s the ending I promised. This weekend I was toting a hundred pound keyboard (in a flight case) up thirteen - count ‘em - stairs and messed up my elbow - on my strummin’ arm. Concerned that I might do further damage gigging and exercising this week, I went to see a joint specialist yesterday - the orthopaedic surgeons who so cheerfully cared for my friend’s father-in-law.
[My elbow will be fine. I tore a little muscle from the bone and I just need to rest it, they said. And that’s not as serious as it sounds, really.]
Better than getting a prognosis was being able to pay a small sum back to a medical practice that made good on my promise to a friend, that backed up my rhetoric with real live merciful action.
I spoke this weekend about the things God told Joshua to remember while in battle across Canaan. One of those was remember God’s presence. Remember God is present, fully, everywhere. Nothing is secular. Everything is sacred, purposed, potentially powerful. What impresses me most about these doctors is that they have lived this for me and my friend. They behaved as if they believe their work is sacred, their education is part of divine plan, their skills and time are not their own, as if their career and calling are one. And God is present in and through them.
The doctors at Franklin Orthopaedics and Sports Medicine are proof to me that the needs of our communities can be better served by the Church (Christian individuals) than the State any day. I just wanted to say a long overdue thanks to them for fixing my friend’s father-in-law (and me) and for practicing what I preach. Thank you.
If you’re in the Nashville area and you’ve got something broken or busted, I highly recommend the Cook brothers and the rest of their staff.
