Notes from the Trail

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I can feel my eyes crossing already. This weekend is Kim’s Dance Factory’s annual dance recital(s). The recital is actually composed of two three-hour recitals, one for the younger students and one for the older students. There are a few parents who, upon realizing that their two daughters have reached ages that force them to sit through both ordeals, call doctors for temporary prescriptions of muscle relaxers.

The massive weekend showcases some of the best (and worst) dance talent around. Moms cry, dads snooze, and grandparents fawn over their little ones much like Tom Cruise did initially over Katie Holmes. Me, I film it all. (By the way, if you’ve never seen Dane Cook’s impersonation of Tom Cruise’s Oprah appearance, take the time watch it here, then go watch the Oprah interview.)

It’s not just a six hour ordeal, but it turns into a two week, computer-staring, video-editing blur for me as I strive to produce two feature-length films, shot from two different cameras and have the DVDs into parents’ hands in three weeks.

So if some of my posts seem sporadic or inane (more so than usual) over the next two weeks, you’ll know that I’m up to my eyeballs in tap shoes.

One of the things that I enjoy the most (besides ooo-ing and aah-ing over how much better my daughter is than every other poor girl out there) is the backstage commentary. All of the head muckity-mucks, yours truly included, wear headsets to make sure that we’re on top of the production. It’s a well-oiled machine, I tell you.

However, we tend to use the headsets more like Howard Cosell might have for the play by play of a football game. Kim and her army of helpers backstage don’t really keep the headsets on all the time during the performance, so that leaves Mike Hales, myself, and Steve Pigott to offer up helpful thoughts and affirming commentary about each dance number.

Each year, we feel a little like Regis Philbin must have felt yesterday in his comeback to the show after six weeks of recovery from bypass surgery. As we don those headsets, we (or mabe it’s just me) imagine that we’re talking to millions and entertaining them all with our witty banter. We promise to refrain from any Imus-isms this year. We would not want to dishearten future ballerinas with our words. There’s been many a time that a comment or one-liner has crackled over the headset and reduced the sound booth to the silent laughter shakes. You know - the kind that you can’t stop laughing/shaking cause you know the teacher will call you down, but then you can’t quit thinking of what made you laugh in the first place.

Anyway, if you happen to be at the productions and see any of us with headphones on and marvel at our professionalism, then please… keep marvelling. We sure wouldn’t want to disappoint you with reality.

Ron Luce says that “those who speak up shape the culture.” I totally agree. So why are you silent… inactive… apathetic? Make the world a better place. Make someone else’s life more enjoyable. Invest. Engage. Matter.

I’m pleased to present to you the new design for Notes from the Trail. Let me know what you think, and what you’d like to see in the future. For a designer who’s also a cheapo, it was hard to settle on a design after sifting through more than 50. But here we are for the time being.

Andy hits another homerun as he talks about how disconnecting from high tech can actually reconnect you with high touch. Oooo.

Matthew 20 is just a cool passage of Scripture. I could camp out there for days. It demonstrates Jesus’ wisdom and generosity in the parable of the workers; it reveals His foreknowledge and understanding of His mission as He predicted His death, its means, its perpetrators and His resurrection; it reminds us, His disciples of the primacy of servant leadership; and it magnifies His power to interrupt our disabilities with His ability.

The selection that captivates me today is His encounter with the two blind men. While the disciples and those following Jesus are uncomfortable with their loudness and how they are interrupting their little moment with Jesus, Jesus stops everything to respond to them.

“What do you want me to do for you?” He asks.

“Lord,” they answered, “we want our sight.”

Can you place yourself in that scene and feel the heaviness of the moment? Jesus stops everything. The question He asks these two blind men is one that we only imagine in our wildest dreams Him asking us. Truth is, we all long for Jesus to ask us that question.

What do you want me to do for you?

Some folks today continue to reject or neglect surrendering their life to God because of disappointment with Him or unmet expectations. Life has been hard. Death has claimed a loved one, or perhaps a dream. Whether it was when they were younger or last month, they have given up hope and no longer imagine that Jesus would ever ask them such a question. In some strange way, they think that Jesus can’t handle what they might say.

Others aren’t turned off by Jesus, but rather are so consumed by their own selfishness and littleness that they can’t imagine needing Jesus. They don’t know that they are blind. They cannot see, and therefore do not fear, the chasm ahead.

Still others, perhaps, have had prayers gone “unanswered” for so long, that although they have not given up their faith in Him, it’s such a shrunken, pygmy faith that it’s not faith at all. Rather, the Jesus they claim to “believe in” now is only a shadow of the real Jesus. It’s an emasculated, weak, unable (or uncaring) Christ. All because what they’ve asked from Jesus before was not given them.

Yet that question hangs on the hook of our minds…

What do you want me to do for you?

In your wildest dreams, how would you answer that?

Think carefully. You may need your sight back.

“Jesus had compassion on them and touched their eyes. Immediately they received their sight and followed Him.” (Matthew 20.34)