In light of our new addition, Amy and I have been working to book more regional events and shows.**  I was in Oakland this past weekend, speaking at a church I’ve had great history with for over a decade.  Speaking or singing with folks I am familiar with is often very freeing; That I get to be part of that peoples’ larger story.  As a storyteller, that’s pure gold.

My time with Re:Generation church on Sunday was such a time.  I was there to share a few songs and tell some stories about the work Compassion is doing in the lives of children living in poverty.  But in all honesty the best stories told on Sunday night in Oakland were not stories I told. They were stories folks shared with me or stories I was witness to that evening; stories that are part of that peoples’ larger story.

Here are 2 of them.

The first is was from a family whom I will refer to as the “Jetsons” in order to preserve their anonymity.  As their three children were growing up, the Jetsons sponsored three children through Compassion; one for each one of their children.  Among the three was a beautiful young girl from The Philippines with whom they really connected.  We will call her Judy Jetson. Judy wrote well in English which allowed the Jetson kids to really know her.  When she turned 18 years old, Judy graduated and moved on from the Compassion program.  The Jetsons hoped, as do all sponsors whose kids graduate, that her path would be made straight into a healthy and fruitful adulthood.

Years later… this year in fact,.. the youngest Jetson boy received a message over Facebook from Judy. She’s living in New Jersey and doing extremely well.  She had been searching for her Compassion family since arriving in the US and, thanks to Facebook, finally found them. She expressed her deep thanks for the years of faithfulness and wanted the Jetsons to know that her path was in fact made straight in great part because of their love and faithfullness.

The Jetsons sponsored another young girl from The Philippines Sunday night.

The second story  is about a young girl who grew up right there in Oakland.  A dancer and an athlete, this young lady (whom we will call Shakira) was struck by encephalitis just about a year and a half ago.  The past 18 months have been an emotional and physical challenge like none other for both her and for her family; grand mal seizures, loss of memory and on and on..

Sunday night was Shakira’s first evening out in a long while, since most of her seizures happen at night.  She stood at the table for a while and finally turned to her parents with a packet for a younger girl in hand, saying “I want to sponsor her.”

“You’ll have to use your allowance money” her mother warned, kindly.

“I know” Shakira said “but I’d just be spending that money on myself.”

Shakira receives $40 each month as an allowance.  Sunday night, on one of her her first nights out after months of suffering, she chose to invest $38 in the the Kingdom of God, supporting, encouraging and loving another young girl in her time of need.

These are the kinds of stories that sustain me.  Sure, I am moved by the fact that over 1 million kids have been rescued from poverty by the love and faithfulness of Compassion sponsors. But more and more, it is the new life I see in those sponsors themselves that inspires me.

If you would like to sponsor a child with Compassion International, the process is very easy, the organization is trustworthy and the sacrifice you make sincerely changes the life of a child as well as your own.  Click here to sponsor a child.

** (If you live near the SF Bay area or on the West Coast anywhere feel free to contact us here to book a show or speaking engagement.)

I promise… I will not become that dad who collapses into a heap of mushy ‘googoo’ songs now that I have a child.. BUT…

Walking around the house and bouncing his 8lb person on my shoulder, I found myself making up songs on the spot that were at least sharing with you.

This is the first and catchiest of the songs I’ve been singing to Asa. Written for changing time, I present to you… “You Make The Poops”

Lyrics:
You make the poops, I clean them up (4x)
Everybody poops sometimes. You poop on yourself, though.

She was nearly triple-parked in her gold-ish early 90’s toyota Something-or-other.  The pink (or was it purple?) hair-die in her unkempt mohawk was faded to the point that I could not tell if it was pink or purple.  The back of her car was piled up with what looked like about an apartments worth of belongings; not organized.. just shoved in; the kind of “packing” we do in a hurry of when angry.

She was leaning heavy on her driver side door and smoking so that the ashes would fall to the pavement instead of inside her car… I parked just behind her so that I could get a better look while putting my running shoes on and as I opened my door, I noticed she was listening to the radio quietly and writing. Pink pen. Lined notebook paper, frayed from being ripped out.  Despite the pink pen, the note or letter she was writing was comprised of at least 3 other pen styles and colors; as if it were a letter she’d started and stopped several times before.

I got my running shoes tied on and weaved the wire for my earbuds through my shirt before locking my car and walking her way: I’d have to pass her to get to the head of the running trail.  Before I reacher her car, I saw her jump slightly and say aloud “O, wow,.. Oh, God, Oh, God, Oh, God!”  I though she was noticing me approaching and awoken from some trance.. But no..

She leaned forward and turned up the radio, saying “Yeah, yeah, YEAH!” while pinching her cigarette in the corner of her mouth.

“I’m gonna make a change for once in my life
It’s gonna feel real good
I’m gonna make a difference, gonna make it rii-iiiiight..”

She picked up singing along as the beat dropped…

“As I turn up the collar on my favorite winter coat,
The wind is blowing my mind”

It was quite a moment. I could see tears roll down her cheek beneath her Oakley sunglasses.

Now, this is exactly the kind of scenario I might just as easily make fun of: someone singing along with Michael Jackson in public, with a poorly groomed mohawk,..wearing Oakleys. And perhaps it’s because I just became a father so that everything has a touch more emotional punch to it (this is, of course, greatly aided by not sleeping through the night for a week).  But I was reminded once again of the place music takes us to.. the way a song can find us right where we are and in some way, complete the moment.

Before I hit the trail for my run, I paused at her door and asked “are you alright?”
She didn’t even look up.. she just kept her head moving to the beat and said “Yeah, honey.. I’m gonna be fine.”