'And the winner is..."
The winners of the DOVE Awards at the Grand Ole Opry last night were not only the artists holding the trophies, but every person fortunate enough to have secured a seat for this Christian event walked away a winner.
The talent was phenomenal: Natalie Grant, Brandon Heath, 10th Avenue South, Mary Mary, Chris Tomlin, Third Day and so many more.
Expecting to be entertained there was not a dry eye as we somberly walked out of the theater after the final award was presented.
There was a feeling of unity in that building, but never more so than when Steven Curtis Chapman started to sing his 2008 hit song, Cinderella'. He began:
"She spins and she sways to whatever song plays,
Without a care in the world.
And I'm sittin' here wearin' the weight of the world on my shoulders.
It's been a long day and there's still work to do,
She's pulling at me saying "Dad I need you!
There's a ball at the castle and I've been invited and I need to practice my dancin'"
"Oh please, daddy, please!"
So I'll dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh I'll dance with Cinderella
I don't wanna miss even one song,
Cuz all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone..."
At the final..."and she'll be gone..." was changed to..."and she'll keep dancing."
The crowd stood to their feet and broke into clapping as the tears rolled down their cheeks.
Steven Curtis Chapman wrote this song for his three daughters, ages 5,6 and 7; special girls that his family adopted from China. When his older daughter, Emily, (he also has two teenage sons)was away at college he realized how quickly she grew up and he wanted to take the time to enjoy Shohannah, Stevie Joy and Maria Sue. He was going to savor the time spent with his 'Cinderellas'.
"All too soon the clock struck midnight, and Maria Sue was gone..."
Tradegy does not play favorites, and the Chapman family are enduring mammoth portions of grief as they work through the grief that tears apart their hearts as they learn to cope with life after the death of a family member.
Graduation party, kids playing outside, Emily's recent engagement - the day had all of the components of a day made in heaven.
Hours before the festivities were to start the 16-year-old son hopped in his SUV to do last minute pre-party errands. As he backed up on the family property he had no way of knowing that little Maria Sue had run behind his vehicle.
The thud, the scream, the tears, the horror, as Steven held his dying daughter in his arms, before she went to her eternal father to be held forever.
Finally, the biggest award of the evening..."And the winner for the Artist of the Year is...Steven Curtis Chapman!"
Applause thundered through the walls as everyone stood to their feet.
There are a lot of reasons why I am standing here,'' Chapman said while standing next to his wife.
"The reason we are standing here, it's nothing we know about music, but it was our ability to communicate the hope that we have. Our hope is not in this life,'' said Chapman, adding that his hope has helped him to have a bolder testimony. "Jesus is coming and He can't come soon enough for me."
As Steven and his wife walked off of the stage, tears brimming in their eyes and shoulders noticeably slumped, there was a feeling of community in a auditorium filled with 4400 seats, all occupied by people helping the Chapman carry their burden while lifting up prayers for strength to cope and bring hope to the world, faith in a God that is bigger than anything on this earth.
"And the winners are..."
Every person who was blessed to have a ticket to that heartfelt event last night.
"So I'll dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Ohh-oh ohh-oh, I'll dance with Cinderella
I don't wanna miss even one song,
Cuz all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone."
Dance with the Cinderellas in your life while they is still on your dance floor. All too soon they will be gone...
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Friday, April 24, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Good-bye my Special Friend!
Last night I was chatting with my daughter, Jacki, on the phone when a beep interrupted our conversation. I held the phone away from my ear to see if I recognized the number beeping into our mother-daughter reverie.
318?
While I was talking with Jacki I sat down to the computer and looked up the area code. Northern Louisiana? Do I know anyone there?
I hung up the phone and dialed the number that had beeped in minutes before.
"Sandy, this is John Thomas. My mother - your friend - has passed away."
The year was 1985. My mother had recently passed away after suffering from the cruel, but quick, death brought on my Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease, better known by the crazy name. Mad-Cow Disease.
After writing to hospitals I was given contact information of people who were interested in networking with other people who lost family members to this crazy, orphan disease.
That was 23 1/2 years ago and I have been friends with Audrey that long. You see, Audrey's husband died from this disease before my mother succumbed to it.
Audrey's presence in my life has been a constant. She sewed a quilt for my youngest daughter, Lauren, when I was pregnant with her; she sewed and embroidered crayon aprons for all three of my girls when they were growing up; we wore Watermelon Festival shirts from Farmerville, Louisiana for years, and I baked with Louisiana pecans at Christmastime for years - compliments of Audrey.
Then came the wonderful day that I flew to meet my friend. That week was one of the most memorable times in my life!
The love, the family she shared, her friends, the catfish, mayhaw and scupperberry jellies, the laughter,the sharing and the love.
For the past 23+ years, every time I have taken a trip I have sent Audrey postcards. I sent them from every airport I had a layover at. Audrey was a part of my every trip, she was always in my heart.
Even as her disease progressed and she could no longer communicate, I loved to send her postcards and little notes - reminders that love was coming from Nashville to her heart.
Parkinson's ate away at Audrey, and this past Christmas I gave her soft embroidered pillowcases for her head. Oh, she loved pretty homemade things.
I would like to think that as she breathed her last yesterday that her beautiful head was lying on that pillowcase that was made with so much love, from Nashville.
Good-bye for now, Audrey. Until we meet again on the dance floor of heaven, my postcards will be sent in the form of prayers. To Audrey's family - thank you for sharing your beautiful mother with me! You will never know how much that - and she -meant to me!
318?
While I was talking with Jacki I sat down to the computer and looked up the area code. Northern Louisiana? Do I know anyone there?
I hung up the phone and dialed the number that had beeped in minutes before.
"Sandy, this is John Thomas. My mother - your friend - has passed away."
The year was 1985. My mother had recently passed away after suffering from the cruel, but quick, death brought on my Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease, better known by the crazy name. Mad-Cow Disease.
After writing to hospitals I was given contact information of people who were interested in networking with other people who lost family members to this crazy, orphan disease.
That was 23 1/2 years ago and I have been friends with Audrey that long. You see, Audrey's husband died from this disease before my mother succumbed to it.
Audrey's presence in my life has been a constant. She sewed a quilt for my youngest daughter, Lauren, when I was pregnant with her; she sewed and embroidered crayon aprons for all three of my girls when they were growing up; we wore Watermelon Festival shirts from Farmerville, Louisiana for years, and I baked with Louisiana pecans at Christmastime for years - compliments of Audrey.
Then came the wonderful day that I flew to meet my friend. That week was one of the most memorable times in my life!
The love, the family she shared, her friends, the catfish, mayhaw and scupperberry jellies, the laughter,the sharing and the love.
For the past 23+ years, every time I have taken a trip I have sent Audrey postcards. I sent them from every airport I had a layover at. Audrey was a part of my every trip, she was always in my heart.
Even as her disease progressed and she could no longer communicate, I loved to send her postcards and little notes - reminders that love was coming from Nashville to her heart.
Parkinson's ate away at Audrey, and this past Christmas I gave her soft embroidered pillowcases for her head. Oh, she loved pretty homemade things.
I would like to think that as she breathed her last yesterday that her beautiful head was lying on that pillowcase that was made with so much love, from Nashville.
Good-bye for now, Audrey. Until we meet again on the dance floor of heaven, my postcards will be sent in the form of prayers. To Audrey's family - thank you for sharing your beautiful mother with me! You will never know how much that - and she -meant to me!
Monday, April 13, 2009
Tornadoes are not a joke
I was talking to my sister, Joann, on the phone. She was in Minnesota and I was in Nashville, Tennessee. As I sat peering out of my office window it started to rain - really hard. Talking to my favorite sister, listening to the rain, feeling safe inside - life was good!
The next minute the emergency sirens began to howl and it caught me off-guard.
I grew up in Minnesota - this was not tornado weather. Tornado weather in Minnesota meant that the sky turned yellow and the atmosphere was eerily silent. It had a surreal feel to it.
This looked and felt like a rain storm, and a mellow one at that.
But I decided to heed the call of the sirens. I trudged downstairs, took a blanket and pillow off of my bed and headed for the small bathroom on the main floor. I had determined when I moved to Tennessee two years before that this was the safest place for disasters - the only room without any windows, and in the middle of the house. You see, the houses in Tennessee are not built with basements. When I ask people about this they tell me that the soil here is way too hard, and too full of clay to have basements and swimming pools. It is too costly.
I peeked out of the window to see the rain being blown to the side, uphill. I have never seen a sight like this in my life. There was a slight resemblance to The Wizard of Oz as I watched tree branches breaking and being tossed through the air as if they were weightless.
I turned on the TV in the living room so I could hear updates, and for the next hour I heard about the six tornado cells that were on the ground. The worst one was in Murfreesboro, about a 30-minute drive from my house; the town that my college-age daughter lives in.
I grabbed my cell phone and called Lauren.
"Yes, Mom, I am okay. Yes, the sirens are going off here but it looks okay."
"Are you watching the news?"
"Yes, Randy and I have the TV on."
"Lauren, head for cover."
An hour later when I emerged from the bathroom where I had been reading as I lay on the floor, the sun was trying to peek out.
I lowered myself to the couch and watched the damage that occurred, as reporters told about the devastation that the twister had left in its path: the deaths, the young mother trying to outrun the twister with her 4-month-old baby, the houses that were flattened. I felt sick to my stomach and called to make sure Lauren was okay.
When she answered the phone she told me, in a weeping voice, about the rearranged landscape that occurred less than five minutes from her house.
A tornado, a twister changed so many lives in that one hour as people rushed to get their treats and food for the upcoming Easter holiday.
The Easter baskets. treats, little white lace gloves and the clean house for the relatives were not important any more.
Mother Nature was in control. The creator of Mother Nature was holding the remote control.
Easter came and went, people celebrated, lives went on. But to many here in Tennessee this weekend was a time to hand the control back to the creator. A time to mourn and a time to laugh.
The next minute the emergency sirens began to howl and it caught me off-guard.
I grew up in Minnesota - this was not tornado weather. Tornado weather in Minnesota meant that the sky turned yellow and the atmosphere was eerily silent. It had a surreal feel to it.
This looked and felt like a rain storm, and a mellow one at that.
But I decided to heed the call of the sirens. I trudged downstairs, took a blanket and pillow off of my bed and headed for the small bathroom on the main floor. I had determined when I moved to Tennessee two years before that this was the safest place for disasters - the only room without any windows, and in the middle of the house. You see, the houses in Tennessee are not built with basements. When I ask people about this they tell me that the soil here is way too hard, and too full of clay to have basements and swimming pools. It is too costly.
I peeked out of the window to see the rain being blown to the side, uphill. I have never seen a sight like this in my life. There was a slight resemblance to The Wizard of Oz as I watched tree branches breaking and being tossed through the air as if they were weightless.
I turned on the TV in the living room so I could hear updates, and for the next hour I heard about the six tornado cells that were on the ground. The worst one was in Murfreesboro, about a 30-minute drive from my house; the town that my college-age daughter lives in.
I grabbed my cell phone and called Lauren.
"Yes, Mom, I am okay. Yes, the sirens are going off here but it looks okay."
"Are you watching the news?"
"Yes, Randy and I have the TV on."
"Lauren, head for cover."
An hour later when I emerged from the bathroom where I had been reading as I lay on the floor, the sun was trying to peek out.
I lowered myself to the couch and watched the damage that occurred, as reporters told about the devastation that the twister had left in its path: the deaths, the young mother trying to outrun the twister with her 4-month-old baby, the houses that were flattened. I felt sick to my stomach and called to make sure Lauren was okay.
When she answered the phone she told me, in a weeping voice, about the rearranged landscape that occurred less than five minutes from her house.
A tornado, a twister changed so many lives in that one hour as people rushed to get their treats and food for the upcoming Easter holiday.
The Easter baskets. treats, little white lace gloves and the clean house for the relatives were not important any more.
Mother Nature was in control. The creator of Mother Nature was holding the remote control.
Easter came and went, people celebrated, lives went on. But to many here in Tennessee this weekend was a time to hand the control back to the creator. A time to mourn and a time to laugh.
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