Giving the World a Holiday!

Every year, as I prepare for Portraits of White, I'm always amazed by the new theme that emerges. Certain song lyrics call out to me and say, "this is why you are doing the show".  This year the phrase is; "give the world a holiday that's bright as can be". That's what I plan to do with the concert this weekend. 

It's a crazy, busy world out there and as we get closer to Christmas we all long for a chance to take a deep breath to gear up for the day that is meant to bring joy. But for many people Christmas Day feels pretty empty and lonely. Many folks just "try to make it through" to the New Year. We plan to give folks the breather they are longing for with lots of great music, laughs and even lights, to brighten up the world here in South Central Pennsylvania.

Friday morning I went over to the venue early in the morning to go through the whole concert without all the other players, fancy lights and pretty dresses. I don't know how to turn on the lights in this big auditorium, so I figured I could just walk slowly and let my eyes adjust to the darkness.  I made my way to the platform, in the dark, down the center aisle, up the steep steps to the stage and shuffled across the stage (arms extended to buffer myself from objects) toward the grand piano hoping there weren't any mic stands or monitors that were repositioned after rehearsal the night before.

I made it safely to the piano and decided I'd practice the whole show from that stationary position. No need to be walking around in the dark more than necessary. I turned on the little stand lights at the piano and that was all I needed to get started with the show. I couldn't see a thing except for the piano keys and all the EXIT signs in the room. At least I know where the exits are, even if I can't see how to get to them.

The strangest thing happened though. The longer I played the piano and told my stories to the empty room, the more my eyes adjusted to the dark. In fact, I became so used to the dark that within twenty minutes or so, I could see the stage and felt confident enough to actually walk around. It's always good to take some time getting used to the layout of the stage where you're giving a concert. It's like familiarizing yourself with all the controls in a rental car. It makes the trip a lot more relaxing if you "know" where everything is. I went from shuffling around on stage to actually feeling quite comfortable and confident in the dark.

An hour or two into my rehearsal the facility manager arrived and asked if I wanted some lights on. I was so used to the dark that I declined. I kind of like the solitude and quiet before the BIG weekend. I don't know why a dark room feels more quiet, but it just does. 

As I stood on the stage looking out over the empty seats, I couldn't help but wonder how many times I've allowed myself to "get used to living in the dark" when it comes to some areas of my life. The things is, in the darkness, objects that could be useful to me actually pose as a threat because I don't bother to turn on the lights or allow someone else to turn the lights on for me. In fact, in the dark, everything can be dangerous. But if you sit there long enough, you'll get used to the dark and think it's normal.

I believe that we've created something special with Portraits of White—and I say "we" because there is a whole team behind this extravagant concert experience. People still say, "It's YOUR show"—meaning, do what YOU want, but there are so many people who have come alongside me to make this dream come true and so I no longer see it as "my show". We plan to really give the world a holiday that's bright as can be, especially for those who might have become accustomed to sitting in the dark.

For tickets to see Portraits of White, click HERE!

The Power of One

One phone call—the doctor told her she had skin cancer.

One phone call—their son told them he was in jail for first-degree murder.

One phone call—her husband's secret girlfriend called to make her aware of the affair.

One accident—he plowed into the back of a semi.

One phone call—and I had hope again.

One friend—and I ceased feeling alone.

It's a pattern I've been noticing now that we're into our tenth month of weekly podcasts. It feels like almost every story we capture can point back to one phone call, one accident, one traumatic moment that took people where they weren't intending to go. But it also eventually leads to one new idea, a new job or a new book.

I've been thinking about the power of one—in a positive way. I've had the seed idea for a song for a couple of years and I'm trying to get back to a schedule that allows for daily songwriting. It's not been an easy goal thanks to ONE big Christmas show I've been doing each year. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE the show and what it stands for. I just wasn't prepared for how much it would upset my comfortable routine. I've gone from feeling like I could flow from week to week in a given year and now everything revolves around one huge event and everything else is fighting for attention. The very ONE thing that started my idea has created a multi-laned highway going many different directions simultaneously.

In my attempt to get back to writing blogs and songs, I pulled out the song I started two years ago. I really wanted it for last year's show in December, but I just couldn't get it to where it needed to be so I'm trying to get into writing again. As with most songs, it starts with my own experience and sparks an idea for a new song.

For instance, years ago, I walked into the auditorium of a very big church and felt completely alone, though it was filled with plenty of people. How can one person feel so lonely in the midst of a crowd I thought to myself. I almost got up to leave, it was so uncomfortable. Then a friend of mine surprised me and sat down beside me and my whole mood changed. Now I didn't care how many people were there. Her presence was all I needed to feel at home.

On another occasion, at one of the lowest points of my life, someone called me out of the blue and said,
"I don't know if this will make sense, but I feel like I'm supposed to tell you something".
I eagerly waited.
"Don't quit".
He had no idea that it was exactly what I needed to hear in that season of my life.

One person, one phone call.

It's the power of one.

A Very Long Edge

It's taken 15 long years to see the unfolding of "Portraits of White".  From the first day I wrote the song, while driving through literal portraits of white dancing across the earth, thanks to fresh fallen snow and harsh winds, to the recording of the song, to the performance of it at my concert a few weeks ago.  There is more to come, I hope. 

Dreams and prophecies can be that way.  A seed is planted, an idea pops in your head, but if you're not careful, you'll forget about it.  If you're wise, you will nurture that dream, seed, idea, etc.  

I have been focusing on the story of Mary, Joseph and Jesus for years - and not just at Christmas time.  But this morning, I saw things from yet another angle.

Have you ever considered why the shepherds were the only ones to see angels in such a spectacular way?  A whole host of angels appeared....but only to them.  They were so excited that they did exactly what they were told to do.  They went looking for the miracle and when they found him, they ran around telling everyone about it.  

Mary had a completely different reaction, however.  It says that Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart.  Mary's prophecy was given in a 'one to one' situation.  The angel appeared to her while she was alone.  She seems to respond in the same way - pondering every moment and keeping much of it to herself.  The shepherds heard the prophecy in a BIG way and they responded that way too.  A frenzy of activity accompanies their part of the story.

Did you ever ponder the fact that after all that excitement it took many, many years before they probably ever heard of Jesus again.  In fact, it could have been as many as 30 years before they heard of him again, even though they probably told the story over and over to everyone they knew.

I think it's that way with dreams and words of hope.  In the moment, some of us react with excitement and want to tell everyone.  Others of us are quiet and hold them close to our hearts, telling only one or two close friends or relatives.  Either way, the promise may take a long time to be fulfilled.  

Living on the edge is exciting at times.  At other times, it means years of waiting.  That makes for a very long edge.  But either way, I want to encourage you to be patient.  Enjoy the moments along the way.  Cultivate the seed. The day will come when you will see the fruit of your hope and faith.  And the truth is, the dream may unveil itself in ways you never even imagined.

Here is proof that dreams can come true if you work hard, be patient and believe.

The Hope Room

"The Hope Room" can be just about any room, any place or any person.  It can be accessed any time of the day or night. The common thread is a gentle pulse of hope that begins to pump light into the dark corners of your mind and soul.

This idea of "The Hope Room" came to me when I walked into physical therapy one day feeling very down about the lack of progress in my ankle.  It had been over 3 1/2 weeks since I started therapy with little change. But, surrounded by others who are dealing with injuries and working with professionals trained to help us get better, I found myself starting to feel better by the end of my session.  A renewed sense of hope.

It's good to be here, I thought.

The Hope Room can be a sanctuary, a theatre, a piece of music filling the air waves as you drive, a coffee shop, a written or spoken word and even your kitchen table.

I found it in the conference room at the retirement community where my mother lives.  There are 104 residents in the skilled nursing care facility but there were only 14 family members represented who sat around the table.  I wondered why there weren't more.  It became a room of hope for me as I realized that I am not alone in this journey.  Many expressed the same exact sentiments that I have.

We met around a large table to discuss how to make our loved one's experience better there.  I'm pretty sure I was the youngest one there.  My mother was 43 when I was born so many of my friends have grandmothers the age of my mother.  I am sometimes asked if I'm her granddaughter.  But regardless of the age differences, we were all in the same room for the same reason.  We wanted a sense of hope.

Monday I had lunch with a new friend.  She lives in North Carolina but is visiting PA.  We met when we shared a stage together months ago at a local women's conference, leading worship.  We hit it off immediately.  Now we were sitting at a little cafe in Harrisburg and she began to tell me her journey with her mother who died a few years ago from cancer.

There it was again.  There were no physical walls surrounding us in the outdoor cafe, but I felt loved and embraced by the hope that filled my heart as we compared notes as if it was a room for just two.

It was "The Hope Room".

It keeps popping up everywhere I go.

Look for it.  You will enter it as you keep your heart and eyes open for it.