Sunday, April 28, 2013

Our Lifetime in Song

Dad (Bob), Nathan, and Mom (Paula)
I was driving home and chatting with my sister, Laura, when dad texted both of us from a doctor’s office at Emory. “Read it!” I commanded, since I was behind the wheel. Emotion overflowed as she read, “It’s benign! Susan, it’s benign!”

Three weeks of waiting had come to an end.
While relief flooded in, we knew a battle still lay ahead. And in less than a week, my mom will have surgery to remove a nasty growth in her mouth. I’ve seen it. It’s ugly. And depending on how far it’s grown, there’s a chance the surgeon will have to leave a hole in her soft palate, affecting her speech as well as her ability to sing.
This may sound odd, but the singing part troubles me most—and that from a forty plus year old who struggles to walk.
My family has been singing together for as long as I can remember. We attended First Presbyterian Church in Douglasville back in the seventies when the chapel and a small house were the only structures on the property. The small choir allowed youngsters like me to join. And one night as we drove home from a Wednesday night practice, my dad, mom, sister and I started singing what we’d gone over that night, the four part Hallelujah, Amen from Judas Maccabaeus by Handel.
Dad sang bass, and mom, soprano. Laura filled in with tenor, and me, alto. And there, in the confines of our rusty old Suburban, Dad’s love of barbershop found a new outlet—us—his family.
Soon, we huddled around the piano, learning barbershop tunes. We were never famous. But we sang everywhere we went: in the car, on the San Francisco Pier, on an island off the coast of Finland, in numerous Presbyterian churches across the US and as far away as Honolulu, and in the galley of airplanes when pilot dad knew the flight attendants on board.
As lead, I was often amused, while sister, the baritone, fought embarrassment. Much younger brother, Mark, well, he just sang whatever he felt like, creating more amusement than we knew till we videotaped ourselves years later—a few months before Laura left for college.
Tears fell as we tried to sing one last tune in our garage before driving her north to William and Mary. We feared the music was gone forever.
But a few years later, my mom, a vocal performance major, stood by the same piano and taught me Italian classics for my own college audition. Vanderbilt University offered me a scholarship and soon I was off singing opera as my voice teacher warned against the perils of barbershop—which reminds me that dad once had us sing for him in the Blair Recital Hall.
No place on earth intimidates barbershop dad.
After Mark grew and gave mom space and time, she auditioned for the Atlanta Symphony Chorus and has now sung and traveled with them for over twenty years, including performances in Carnegie Hall and Germany. And in recent years, she’s driven me to Athens several times to hear my oldest son perform as a voice student at the Hugh Hodgson School of Music. Just over a month ago, he sang the song mom taught me for my college audition during his junior recital. And I was there, reminiscing.
A few weeks later, our family gathered for a birthday celebration. My niece insisted we sing the one barbershop song everyone knows: A Spiritual Medley.  Mom, dad, sister, brother, brother-in-law, my two sons, a niece, and three nephews sang their part with feeling.
The music had multiplied and filled every heart in the room.
So it’s hard to imagine my mom not being able to sing—hard to picture a birthday gathering without her high soprano voice adding its unique harmony to our amazing renditions of Happy Birthday. But I’m comforted knowing that no matter what happens in the operating room four days from now, her song will go on and the voice that once comforted me with lullaby’s will not soon be forgotten.
“Speak to one another with psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord…” (Eph. 5: 19)

Friday, April 12, 2013

An Evening at Shoplifter's Bible Study

Check out: www.shopgofish.com
They walked in the door covered with shame. Apologies tumbled out as they shook Don's hand and gave back the items they had stolen from our store. Heavy footsteps carried them to where I stood in the back, waiting for everyone to gather in the circle of chairs. I smiled and reached out my hand and said, "Please don't ever steal from our store again!"


More apologies from lost souls.

Several years ago, Don learned to organize our store in such a way that he can quickly tell when an item is missing. Between his diligence and our video camera system, he's caught quite a number of shoplifters. Amazingly enough, most of them purchase items at the same time they're stealing. So credit card information leads to their identity and the video to police response.

He nabbed three about a month ago and after an initial greeting, we sat in a circle as Don passed out Go Fish Bibles and began his intro to Shoplifter's Bible Study.

"When I first caught folks who stole from us," he offered, "I wanted to pinch their little heads off. It felt like they'd rooted through my underwear drawer, violating me. But a short time later, I was convicted by a verse, Matthew 5: 43 - 45."

He had everyone find the verse in their Bible and read, "You have heard it said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven."

Tears fell. Their remorse overwhelmed me. But I actually fought a giggle.

I knew from years past that after Don spent about thirty minutes making them face their sin head on, he would offer them a deal of a lifetime. Instead of conviction, probation, or possible jail time, they could attend Shoplifter's Bible Study for four weeks and if they showed up and participated, he would drop the charges. It was that simple. And I wanted to bust with the good news as they squirmed, apologized, and wiped away many tears.

I stayed quiet instead. And while Don talked about the severity of their crime, I relished the deal the God of heaven made with us. It's good news: Accept Jesus, live for him and in return have access to freedom from sin, joy in sorrow, and more than enough hope for every day.

I know all that, yet I squirm in shame, guilt, and remorse, unable to grasp the fierce reality of the cross many days.

But when Don finally told them the deal and deep relief altered their countenance, for a moment, their joy was mine. Their get out of jail card the same as the one heaven offers me.

Tears dried. And they willingly agreed to return and complete their first assignment: to read the book of John. As we held hands and prayed I asked that the God of heaven would give all of us "power together with all the saints to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that we would be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God." (Eph. 3 : 18 - 19)

In the end, only two of three came back. The other, who always claimed health issues, had energy for shopping but not Bible Study. She didn't take the deal. Some just don't.

But while others were at the beach this week for spring break (leaving me drooling over their photos on FB), we hosted the last of the four gatherings Monday night. The couple even brought a friend who wanted to meet the Christian man who had offered his friends such grace. When we huddled in prayer for the last time, they're restitution was complete. Redemption theirs for the taking.

They are grateful to Don. But we hope they realize they really should thank The One who touched Don's heart and compelled him to offer the undeserved grace that has changed his life.

While long retail hours some times leave me struggling to appreciate our sunshine store, I have never been more proud of my husband than when I watched him speak life to those who stole from him. He planted seeds, discipled lost souls, and hopefully made an impact they will never forget.

It would be nice to "get away from it all" some day, but perhaps staying put was indeed the better choice. For now. For today. For the change that was made.

Read more about our store at: Go Fish Clothing and Jewelry and stop in for a visit some day:

 
 
Go Fish Marietta130 S. Park Square
Marietta, GA 30060
(770) 421-2495
Don and Susan Davis
marietta@shopgofish.com
facebook.com/gofishmarietta