Thoughts and Musings

A Life Well Loved - the album drops August 22nd

 

Blest be the tie that binds our hearts in Christian love
The fellowship of kindred minds is like to that above

I have no idea what - or more likely, who - hymn writer John Fawcett was thinking of when he penned these words over 200 years ago.  For me, at least, it speaks of people whose mere presence on the planet is a gift of grace, and a gift that continues on long after that person is no longer with us.  It's rare that someone comes along that meets this lofty standard - but when they do from time to time, we give thanks to God and do our best to capture something of that person to share with others.

I guess that's the way I feel about Aimee Wallis Buchanan.  She was a classmate of mine in my seminary years, and she was the husband of Bill, also a seminary classmate and long-time friend from my growing-up years in Raleigh (I still have fond memories of the two of us, and my Dad, with guitars in hand leading music for our Sunday night youth group gatherings at White Memorial).  Aimee was also an amazing individual, gifted with a passion for ministry and a cornucopia of creative skills that probably never found their way into a single person before.  Her most recent dream, Asheville Youth Mission, was a joint effort with Bill to bring those passions and skills together in their beloved mountain community.

This past January, Aimee died unexpectedly.  We Presbyterians are well-connected in the social media world, and the communal sense of grief was palpable - for our personal loss, for Bill and their kids, for the church.  We felt like a bright star had been snuffed out for all of us.

But then a conversation began.  It started with my good friend David LaMotte and the kind of statement that can get people into trouble: So I have this idea....  A way to honor Aimee's life, to bring some sense of closure to our collective grief, and to support the vision Aimee was so passionate about at AYM.  It felt good; it felt right.  And it also needed Bill's approval.  So we called Bill and shared the idea with him, and he loved it.  Then we got to work.

The culmination of these conversations is  A Life Well Loved: Remembering Aimee Buchanan.  It's a compilation CD of various artists that came out of the conversations we had over the course of a few months.  In Bill's own words from the album's Facebook page:

This is a project designed to honor the life of one who knew how to love well-- Aimee Wallis Buchanan. Her hospitality, compassion, and care for all God’s people, especially those on the margins of society, were an inspiration to many. Her love of the arts and her passion for youth ministry made a lasting impact on generations of young people.

Some of the artists on the album are regulars in the Presbyterian youth ministry world; others come straight out of the eclectic Asheville music scene.  Two circles colliding in a way they probably never have before - which is appropriate, given Aimee's unique way of bringing together lots of different folks for a common purpose.  Those artists, by the way, are: David Lamotte, The Secret B-Sides, Jeffrey Harper, Beth Williams, Peggy Ratusz, Jorge Sayago-Gonzales, Peggy Brown, Jerry Wallis, Rachel Pence, Josh Phillips, Heather Brown, the Asheville High School Band, and myself (and a special shout-out to Chris Rosser, who did a whale of a job mastering the final project).

And because its a hodge-podge of artists, the music itself is pretty much all over the map. Again, from Bill: There are a wide variety of musical styles included in the album-- from rock to folk, blues and ballads, and symphonic music as well. This only makes sense, because Aimee’s interests were wide and she was a welcoming presence for many different kinds of people, with diverse styles and ways of being in the world.

Even better - all proceeds from this album (a minimum $10 purchase, but you can pay more if you want) will go to support Asheville Youth Mission, helping to continue the dream she and Bill built together.

The release date is August 22nd - downloadable mp3 format only.  My hope is that you'll mark that date down on your calendar and go check it out at: www.alifewellloved.org.  For now, that URL takes you to the official Facebook page that you should "LIKE" and spread the good word to others.  Because that's the kind of thing Aimee would've done: helping foster and grow those ties that bind, so the world can be a better place.  And in this guy's humble opinion, it already is a better place, having had Aimee in it.

"Made To Sing Together" is out today!

The last time I sent out a blog post announcement about a new album release of mine, it was over two years ago.  That album, Let Go, came fresh out of my sabbatical that previous summer.  I treat every album as if it's my last for a few reasons: they cost a lot of money, take up a lot of time, and I never take for granted how long the musical muse decides they're going to stick around.

Today I'm happy to announce, if I'm counting right, the release of my sixth project!  Made To Sing Together (you can listen & download below) is comprised of songs I've written and recorded over the years specifically for retreats and conferences I've led music for. While most of these have appeared on previous projects, the leadoff tune, "Stones Come Rollin' Down," was written for the Montreat Middle School Conference, taking place this very week.  It also includes a number of youth from my church singing with me, which was a pretty cool experience, as I shared in this previous blog post.

Writing these conference theme songs is a whole different beast from typical songwriting ventures.  It can be a bit of a challenge writing in a select pocket of theme and scripture; the never-ending search for that killer hook or words for the last stanza that have to be "singable" not just for you but for everyone else.  In the end, though, when you're standing in front of 300 or 600 or 1000 folks, there eventually comes a point when you step away from the mic and they all keep singing; and that's when you know that the song has become as much theirs at it is yours.  Which is a truly amazing and humbling thing.

I'm focusing on Bandcamp as the primary source of distribution for this project.  Maybe someday I'll add iTunes/Amazon/Spotify, but I like Bandcamp for the ease of downloading and the fact that it embeds the artwork and lyrics directly into the mp3.  Plus it'll allow me to add other songs in the future - and hopefully I'll be leading music for more retreats and conferences and will need to write more theme songs.

Maybe these tunes will take you back to a retreat or conference you attended that I had the pleasure of leading music for, or maybe they'll lead you to form new experiences and memories.  Either way, I hope you'll enjoy them.  After all, they were written for you.

Thanks for listening, thanks for downloading, thanks for sharing!

Just another youth group recording in the studio.

If you're looking for something crazy and insane to do this summer, how about this:

First, write a theme song for the summer youth conference you're leading music for.

Then, go into the studio to record that song, inviting some good musical friends/former bandmates to join in the fun.  Totally overestimate your own ability on instruments you really don't know how to play (read: mandolin and accordion). Learn the hard way that "faking live" and "faking in the studio" are two very different things.

Next, come up with an idea that, at first, sounds simple enough: since the song is written to be sung in a large group setting, why not ask your entire church youth group to travel down to Winston-Salem one weekday evening and record the choruses in the studio?  And while you're at it, coax your wife and boys to tag along.

After that, schedule a run-through the night before that doesn't even last an hour. Meet in the youth house, sit on couches, play the demo on your ipod. Do crazy stuff like asking them to split into guy parts and girl parts on the middle eight.

And then, to top it all off, ask your DCE to pile them in the church van and a member's minivan and drive them all to the studio.  Which, in this case, is the bottom floor of a two-story garage behind your buddy's house.  He's fixed it up extremely nice as a band room, but never in his wildest dreams did he ever imagine 20+ middle and high schoolers cramming in there around a condensor mic. Much less a 15-passenger church van parked out in front of his house.  Hand out three headsets and keep one for yourself, and ask these non-professionals to sing to a track the vast majority of them will never hear.  Wave your arms wildly in the air to bring them in and out and keep them in time.

Oh, and sweat profusely, since the A/C unit has to be turned off during the recording, lest the sensitive mic pic it up and transform it into the sound of a gushing wind.

Ask these kids to be totally silent until the moment they start singing, and then totally silent when they're done.  Ask them to cut their "s's" off at the same time so it doesn't sound like a snake pit.  Ask the young middle school boys to do their best impression of a grown man's deep voice, and ask two of the girls to sing the women's part an octave higher than the others - but not too loudly.

Did I mention the sweating profusely thing?

And then, when it's all said and done, tell them what an incredible job they did and how proud you are of them, because that's exactly what they did, and that's exactly how you feel.

If you can swing that, my friends, then it's already a pretty awesome summer.

 

My son and I are Ukuleleists. Or Ukeists. Or Uke players. Or Ukers.

It'd be nice if they had a standard name for it.  They do for all the others: Guitarist.  Pianist.  Drummer.  Cellist. Mandolin player. That last one is a little clumsy, if not consistent.

But for that four-stringed Hawaiian wonder that seems to be making a comeback of sorts these days, there's no one name.  So take your pick. Me?  I'm going with Uker.  Short and to the point, and it sounds cooler.

My boy got his uke a few weeks ago after pressing me to get him one. I found it for a steal.  He's going to take lessons this summer from George, a fellow Mayberry musician who teaches most anything with strings on it. I wound up getting one myself soon after, and may try to incorporate it into my acoustic gig at Round Peak Vineyards this weekend.  He's already written two tunes that use the same three chords he made up, just switching the order. Oh, and he's tackling Bohemian Rhapsody. Not kidding.

It's a fun little instrument - easy to hold and play, easy on the fingers. I dig the sound that comes from a well-crafted uke - bright when you pluck, percussive when you strum.  The biggest challenge are the chords - they bear a striking resemblance to guitar chords, but it's in a different tuning, so it plays with your mind a bit. A "D" is actually a "G" and an "A" is really a "D". We're working on it.

I don't know what qualifies one to be an expert Uker, but I'm nowhere near that. I'm just meandering around in a new musical arena, like taking a hike on a beautiful mountain trail I've never been on before. I've engaged in this exercise before, with varying results (note to self: there is no way to just "pick up" playing the fiddle).  This time around, I'm going to enjoy the journey and have some fun along the way.

And it's nice to have some company as well.

 

"Letting Go" again, two years later

I woke up this morning and thought to myself: May 9.  Why does that date stick out in my head?  And then it occured to me: two years ago, I released Let Go, a seven-song EP and the result of a sabbatical I took in the summer of 2010.  If there ever was anything I've done as a labor of love, this was it.  Not only did I have space (physical and temporal) to write and push myself musically, I got to work with some amazing musicians and dream big.  Two years later, I'm still as proud of it as the day it was released.

You can check out the back story of the project HERE. More to the point, you can download the album below.  As it was then, the album is entirely free, since the sabbatical grant paid for all recording/mixing/mastering costs.  Listen, download, share, repeat.  Thanks for helping me "let go" all over again!

 

30 years ago today, the "War" began

February 28th, 1983: it was a Monday, so I was in class. 9th grade, to be exact.  It may have been the Monday we dissected frogs in Biology - and froze while doing so, since our new-age teacher believed in free-flowing spirits and always left the class windows cracked open.  It may have been the Monday I got to read the part of Romeo in our English unit on Shakespeare, secretly hoping that Donna H. would read Juliet.  It may have been the Monday that fellow freshman Leroy A. tapped me on the shoulder and asked (quite nicely) if I'd let him cheat off my History test (I didn't); or the Monday all the boys fawned over our fresh-out-of-college Chemistry teacher. Well, truth be told, we did that every day.

But for four early twenty-somethings who played in an Irish rock band, February 28, 1983 was the day they would release an album that would change their lives forever, and soon enough would change mine.

I remember when I first heard U2's War. It was later that same year in either April or May.  Polly Guthrie handed me a recorded cassette tape after school: Check this out, Steve, I think you might like it.  I actually didn't at first. Yep, you heard right.  This U2 fanatic was a hardened skeptic at first. In an era where popular music was refined for mass consumption, War was too rough around the edges for my early 80's ears.  Too in-your-face for my face.

It was only after a second and third listen that I began to "get it."  The discombobulation experienced when listening to War for the first time was precisely what I needed it to do.  The pounding drums, the thumping bass, the screaming guitars, the intense and impassioned vocals.  And the message: was he singing about God, or a girl?  Or both?  And if he was singing about God, why was he being so angry about it?  Michael W. Smith and Amy Grant were the only ones in my music collection singing about God, and they didn't sound anything like this. Could you really sing about God and be indignant and up-in-arms while doing so?  Oh, that moment when a young lad hears the sound of righteous indignation for the first time. No more! No more! Wipe your tears away! Wipe your tears away!

I played that cassette until the tape wrapped around the little wheels inside the player and spilled out onto my bedroom floor.  So I bought the album, and bought every one after that. Well, the earlier ones first, Boy and October. I had some catching up to do. And then: Under A Blood Red Sky. The Unforgettable Fire.  Wide Awake In America. The Joshua Tree.  Rattle And Hum.  Achtung Baby.  Zooropa. Pop (not at first, though. This one took some time). All That You Can't Leave Behind. How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb. No Line On The Horizon.  Nearly three-quarters of my time on this planet.

To say U2 have been a constant in my life since February 28, 1983 would be doing injustice to the concept of constants.  And it goes beyond their albums.  I've seen them in concert multiple times.  I've read dozens of books about them and by them.  I've covered their songs in my own gigs.  Before my oldest son could say his ABC's he was reciting the band members' names and their corresponding instrument; and with great fatherly pride I recall how, at the tender age of six, he learned to play the opening drum riff for "Sunday Bloody Sunday."  I've quoted their inspiring activist lead singer in numerous sermons and even sung their song acapella in one.   I've been told I'm the only preacher around with a signed picture of Bono hanging in his office.

If the holy scriptures are the script for my life, then U2 is the soundtrack. I hope to God there are more acts written, and if the rumors are to be believed about a new album sometime this year, I'll be the first in line to get it.

For today, though, I'll be listening to their seminal album non-stop. Bono, Edge, Larry, Adam - thanks a bunch for starting the War thirty years ago today.  Keep fighting the fight.

Life is short. Use extra vowels.

Uh, okay. I mean, if it were me, I would've gone with just two E's. But what the heck. Life is short. Knock yourself out.

What I'm listening to in the new year

 Back on January 1 I fired up the DVR to watch some of the New Years Eve specials that I missed when I was out the night before making music of my own.  Ugh. I couldn't decide if these "musical acts" were intended to be a nod to all that was supposedly good in 2012, or some sort of exorcism of the worst of the last twelve months in order to begin 2013 with a clean slate. I think it was meant to be the former, but it sure felt like the latter.

It seems odd that, in an era when music of all genres and quality levels can be readily accessed via technological means (my favorite method of new discovery being Spotify), mainstream culture continues to stubbornly gravitate toward the lower end of the musical spectrum.  For the life of me, I can't figure out why this "sells." 

Still, though, there is hope.  When The Colbert Report has music, for instance, you can pretty much guarantee it's legit.  Case in point:

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Yo-Yo Ma, Stuart Duncan, Edgar Meyer & Chris Thile
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog Video Archive

I know, it was just the interview and not the music.  For some reason Colbert's website took it down. I guess in a sense that kind of negates my whole point. Dangit.

Anyway, the thing is that over the years I've been in the habit of sharing, for what it's worth, some of the music that's currently occupying my sonic airspace. As always, a short disclaimer: if you're looking for in-depth musical and lyrical analysis, you're probably not going to get it here.  I paint with broad strokes, so let it simply whet your appetite.  I welcome not only your thoughts on the bands and artists I highlight, but your own recommendations as well.

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MERCYLAND: HYMNS FOR THE REST OF US - Admit it: the title alone piques your interest.  It should.  I'm not typically a fan of compilations, but this one made a pretty quick jump from my free Spotify playlist to the iTunes catalog.  Think cutting edge artists of the day making music that is spiritual but not steeped in doctrine; opening the pearly gates wide rather than standing a big huge bouncer at the door.  Musically, you simply can't go wrong with the likes of The Civil Wars, Shawn Mullins, Carolina Chocolate Drops, and Emmylou Harris.  Lyrically, you can't go wrong with songs like Mullins' "Give God The Blues:" God don't hate the Muslim / God don't hate the Jew / God don't hate the Christian / But we all give God the blues. Indeed we do, Shawn.  Maybe "the rest of us" needs to be "all of us."

 

CHRISTOPHER SMITH, EARNING KEEP - Man, those Canadiens can make some music.  Although this guy doesn't hail from the prolific Toronto scene (read: Arcade Fire, Barenaked Ladies, Broken Social Scene, The Most Serene Republic, etc) - he's a Vancouver boy that's vying to give the West Coast some props.  In a word - mellow.  For some reason I stumbled on his latest album I had a good friend mention his latest album, Earning Keep, while working on a sermon this past week at a New Years Eve dinner party.  Turns out its good sermonizing music. Usually I can't write and listen to someone singing, but this album is an exception.  Subtle vocals and ambient guitars that at times hint at Radiohead.  But again: mellow. Be advised. And I mean that in a good way.

THE LUMINEERS - The challenge for any new acoustic folk band breaking into the scene is to ride the wave created by the likes of Avett Brothers and Mumford & Sons without sounding too much like Avett and Mumford.  It's not easy, but this trio from Denver does a pretty good job of it. Your foot will be tapping and you'll be singing along, but it won't be to "Little Lion Man" or "The Perfect Space."  Instead it will be to songs like "Submarine" or the catchy "Ho Hey."  This is one of those albums that I'll listen to in one sitting and immediately play it again, because the good vibe it left me with the first time is something I want to feel again.

 

THE GOAT RODEO SESSIONS - I could've easily gone with the more recent Punch Brothers album, but I decided to stick with this one since I already teased you a bit.  Forget that it's nearly nine months old - it's got Chris Thile in it, and anything that has Chris is timeless (in case you hadn't noticed, I'm a bit of a fan).  But here's the difference: for the first time in his young but already legendary career, and with all apologies to Punch Brothers and Nickel Creek, I think that with cellist Yo-Yo Ma, bassist Edgar Meyer and violinist Stuart Duncan, Thile is finally among equals. He's that good, the others are that good, and this album is that good.  Call it bluegrass, call it folk americana, call it jazz, call it classical, call it whatever.  It's all of it, and it's delightful. All I need now is for Thile to release that Bach/Radiohead mandolin cover album he promised me when I met him back in 2010.

 

COLDPLAY: LIVE 2012 - Coldplay flirts dangerously close with being one of those bands I mentioned earlier, but the fact is that I still like them.  I think that, for a pop band, they come up with clever hooks and decent songwriting (that song with Rihanna being an exception).  This live album, which is also a full concert DVD, does a good job of capturing the band's live sound, which is when I personally think they're at their best.  It also represents a nice cross-section of their body of work over the past twelve years. I still prefer 2009's LeftRightLeftRightLeft (which apparently isn't available anymore, bummer), but you can't go wrong with this one. One note: there's an explicit edition where Chris Martin uncharacteristically drops the "F" bomb (why...?).  Get the other one - all the songs are still on there and you won't know that you've missed a thing.

 

GODSPEED YOU, BLACK EMPEROR!: ALLELUJAH! DON'T BEND! ASCEND! - Alright, this one's a bit of a curve ball, so get ready.  We're heading back up to Canada again; Montreal specifically.  It's a nine-piece (yep, you heard me) comprised of three guitars, two basses, two percussionists, and a violin.  No vocals.  The songs are anywhere between six and twenty minutes long and weave in and out of a dreamlike state.  Some songs are barely songs at all, at least in the classic sense: "Their Helicopters Sing" begins with some a high-pitched buzzing that morphs into a bagpipe-ish drone that lasts for a good five minutes.  There's a level of patience that's involved with listening to GYBE's music.  It's not for everyone, but that's the fun of music - listening and checking out to see if it is.

And a bonus:

DOUG DAVIS AND THE SOLID CITIZENS: A PAGEANT OF GOLD - I wrote what turned out to be the very first Amazon.com review for my good friend and former Mediocre Bad Guy bandmate's second album, and here's what I said:

If you're looking for cut-and-paste music with zero passion and production quality that sounds like it was created by your nephew in GarageBand....go somewhere else.

If you're looking for music that comes from the heart, vocals that exude soul, well-written and well-crafted songs, impeccable performance and production that is so spot-on that adding anything else or taking anything away would make the songs less than what they are, you've found the source of your next six bucks. And the beauty is that you'll wind up getting something worth much more than that.

I gave him five out of five stars, cause I'm that kinda guy.

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So, there you have it.  Give 'em a listen and let me know your thoughts.  And tell me what kind of music you're into these days.

And a quick heads-up: U2's apparently got a new album coming out in 2013. The new year is looking up already.

 

Life after being Mediocrely Bad

Here's a lesson I've learned in my 40+ years on this planet: it's easy saying "Yes" to something you love.  It's harder saying "goodbye" to the same.

About six years ago I got a call from my good friend and fellow Mayberry musician Jerry Chapman, asking me if I wanted to play keys in one of his bands, Mediocre Bad Guys.  The "yes" came quick and easy - it was a no-brainer.  While music is just an avocation for me, and I had done the solo acoustic thing for decades, the thing I'd always wanted to do is be in a band with guys who shared a similar taste in music.  Excluding the pseudo prog-rock trio that Michael Propst, Greg Faucette and I had for a single weekend my senior year in high school, it never happened.

The six years since that phone call have been quite a ride. Les, Jerry, Gary, David, and Doug have pushed me musically in ways I never could have myself.  We've played at numerous festivals, wineries, clubs, bars, weddings, street parties, July 4 parades, fundraisers, birthday parties, and neighborhood backyards.  We've shared the stage with the Rolling Stones sax player on either three or four occasions (it's kind of cool when you lose count of something like that) which you can reminisce HERE, HERE and HERE). Recently we've flexed our collective songwriting muscles and recorded what I believe to be some pretty nifty original tunes.  I've hauled Les's awesome Yamaha stage piano and Hammond XK3 (and yes, they're Les'; pretty much everything the band has is Les') across parking lots and up countless stairs, and I've given my brain an incredible spatial configuration workout every time I've tried to cram that godawful keyboard stand into any vehicle, no matter how big or small (you keyboard players out there feel my pain). I even picked up a new instrument on account of the band, adding an accordion to my arsenal.

In short, I've had an absolute blast.

But earlier this year, I felt something change.  Not my feelings about the band, mind you.  I still loved making music with Doug, Jerry and Les.  No, it wasn't about subtraction as much as addition.  Something else was entering the picture.  It was fuzzy at first, but over time the clarity came.  And it revolved around my family - specifically, my two boys.  When I first signed on, our boys were four and two; young enough where neither really noticed when I was away at an evening practice or gig.

But now they were 9 and 7, and it was clear that they missed me when I wasn't around.  My absences were noticed - and felt - more acutely.  And this realization was the tipping point: in just a few years they would be teenagers, and they wouldn't give a rat's behind where I might be.  I had this window, and I needed to jump on it.

Telling the guys my decision was a hard conversation, for sure.  These are not just bandmates; they're good friends.  But they understood, because they're fathers too. And because they're good friends.

That was back in September.  I told them I'd be happy to honor the gigs we'd already committed to through the end of the year.  Which means my last stand as a Mediocre Bad Guy will be on the very last day of the year - a New Year's Eve extravaganza at Old North State Winery in downtown Mayberry (here's the Facebook event if you wanna come).  Going out with a bang for sure.

I know that Les, Jerry and Doug are making plans to keep Mediocre Bad Guys chugging along in some configuration. Which is exactly what they should do.  Those dudes are way too talented not to make music together.  And I'm excited about the transition I'll be making to being a fan of theirs.  I'll be the first to download the original tunes they'll keep releasing; I'll enjoy being part of the crowd at some 2013 gig.

For the record, I won't be hanging up the music thing completely.  Back a few months ago, we auditioned for a band reality TV show on AMC; and if MBG gets the nod I'll be part of that.  I'll keep doing the solo acoustic thing, hanging on to a few regular gigs.  And who knows - maybe an occasional guest appearance with the band if they should ever ask.  After all, it's a small musical community we're part of here in the Greater Mayberry metropolis. Like Bono once said, being in a band is a lot like being in the mafia.  You really can't say "never."

I'm like a lot of people, I think, in that I struggle to let go of things when it's time to.  After all, being human is about being a creature of habit.  And most of us spend our waking hours all wrapped up in "doing" rather than "being;" crossing things off the list rather than taking a step back to check out what's actually on that list.  I'm glad I stepped back earlier this year; and while it means saying goodbye to something I've really enjoyed, it's going to help me focus myself where I need to be focused going forward.  Who knows - maybe my boys and I are meant to start up a band.  

Letting go of being mediocrely bad is going to be weird, for sure.  But I'll figure it out. With a lot of great memories and music to stay with me.

It happened at the hospital bedside

Recently I've been giving some thought to the following: who pastors the pastor?  And not just me, incidentally.  I've got a pastor friend, for instance, who's going through some "baptism by fire" in their life right now.  How do we care for those who are called by God to care for us?

I experienced a little bit of it this morning.  And the great part is that it was totally unexpected.

I began my day making the half-hour drive to Winston-Salem to see a long-time church member nearing death.  The family had called me the day before.  So surreal; how six weeks before this 95-year old woman had been driving her car around town.  Now, they weren't sure she'd see her 95th Thanksgiving. So she was at the hospital, waiting to die.

I got there around 8:30, but somewhat surprisingly the family wasn't there yet.  I called their house - they're on their way, the guy on the other end said.  Should be there any time.  So I sat with this woman, held her hand, being her pastor because that's what I do.

I'm used to this, by the way.  Being the pastor.  It's part of my identity now; journeying with folks and families on their sacred ground as they make the transition from this life to the next.  And honestly, I'm in awe of the people lying in that bed.  What strength!  She had told them when she was still lucid and responsive, Don't do anything for me.  I want to go when it's time.  Which explained the purple "DNR" bracelet wrapped around the wrist of the hand I was holding.  What incredible strength and faith that takes.  I hope I have it when my time comes.

Little did I know that the pastor who was pastoring was about to be pastored to.

It began with Willard.  I hadn't met him before, until he walked in the door of this room and began cleaning the floors.  Because that's what Willard does, in this room and in every other room on this hall, and presumably every room on other halls too.  Willard wore a grey smock with the hospital name emblazoned across his breast.  So sorry if I'm bothering you, he said. I assured him he was not.  He moved around the room, cleaning the floors with a grace and purpose that suggested his work was more than punching a time card.

We engaged in small conversation amidst the constant drone of the oxygen machine hooked up to her through all those tubes.   You family? he asked me.  No, I'm her pastor, I said. An open invitation to either shut the conversation off totally, or steer it in another direction.  But Willard didn't fall for either one.  He just kept smiling, as he had the entire time; kept talking about what a wonderful day it was, about how every day was a gift.  This man cleaning floors finished up his work and said to me as he left, You let your light shine!  It felt like a benediction.  

The family still hadn't arrived.  I waited, continuing to hold her hand.  Still being her pastor.  I sensed a shadow move across the door's opening, expecting a nurse or someone coming in to take a test.  But it wasn't any of these.  Instead, it was Tom.  I know his name was Tom because it was stitched in the volunteer shirt he was wearing.  And Tom had a guitar.  He walked up to the bedside with the ease and grace of a man who knew he was standing on holy ground; Moses in the presence of the Burning Bush.

He didn't need to tell me what he was there for - I had already heard him from the rooms down the hall.  This is what Tom apparently did; volunteering his time on the acute pallative care unit of the hospital, sharing a song with those facing death and the loved ones standing by their side.  I didn't have my minister's badge on, so for all he knew I was this lady's son, just one more person in need of a song.

What music does she like? he asked me.  I honestly had no clue.  Gosh, I wish the family were there.  But she'd been a good Presbyterian all her life so I mentioned a hymn.  How about "Amazing Grace," he said.  Perfect.  And with that he launched into the familiar tune, playing it in the key of D, which seemed strange but comforting, as most songs in D are.  He sang it with a rich baritone and simple strumming pattern that caused the lady's eyes to open, even if for a short time.  It struck something deep inside her, I could tell.  And if I'm honest, it struck something deep inside me, too.  For "Amazing Grace" had been my grandmother's favorite song when she was alive.  

He played his song for her, of course.  That's why he was there.  What he didn't know was that he played it for me, too.  Pastoring to the pastor.  And later I would realize how much I needed Williard and Tom that day; to remind me in their unique way that I'm no less immune to the ups and downs of life; that I also need my spirit lifted even as I was striving to do the same for others.  

The family eventually arrived, and I happily switched into pastor mode.  I cared for them, consoled them, talked about what would come next, what we would do when the time came.  It's a conversation I'm comfortable having when the need arises.  Because it's who I am.  Because I'm a pastor.

But if I'm honest, I was glad to have that half hour alone; to be in the presence of two people who were doing what came naturally to them, as natural as breathing.

In all seriousness, though, I really do want Tom's gig when I retire.