“It
Matters”
Never underestimate the importance
of who you are. It Matters! Don’t lose sight of your life and how you affect other
people. It Matters! I sit here at 50 years old and I’m still greatly affected
and changed by something that happened to me at least a dozen years ago. It
constantly reminds me of the fact that “what we do” - matters.
When our kids were in grade school,
Libby and I were busy parenting and working. I taught as a volunteer once a
week at the kid’s school and was an adjunct lecturer at Shepherd University. I
was also working on my Doctorate of Musical Arts Degree in Classical Guitar at
Shenandoah Conservatory. My life was a true and glorious magnification of
everything that I loved - it was incredible.
But somehow, it wasn’t enough. I
remember wondering if anyone was really listening to my music. I had spent
three years performing 5 nights a week at the Mayflower Hotel in Washington, DC.
The main point of that gig was for me to provide background music for dinner. I
had some great fans at the hotel. I knew people really enjoyed my playing, but
it wasn’t uncommon for me to second-guess their compliments assuming that they
were just being nice. Maybe they really didn’t care if they heard my guitar
playing, or not. I was also playing classical guitar at my church on Sunday
mornings. I made a point of playing preludes before mass. It was a great way for
me to gain performance experience for upcoming recitals. Even with all of that,
I was really grinding and feeling somewhat uninspired about my music. I felt
like I was just going through the motions. Was my music making a difference to
anyone? Should I keep going? Maybe I was just too self absorbed to see past my
own issues. I wasn’t sure what to think. Well, I was about to get an answer.
Libby and I were asked, by one of our friends,
to come to the cancer wing of our local hospital to sing Christmas carols. Libby
and I have a special place in our hearts for cancer patients. My mom died of
breast cancer when I was in high school and Libby battled cancer in her
mid-thirties for three years. She survived – thank God! We were happy to accept
the invitation and we headed out as a family to Shady Grove Adventist Hospital
to sing carols.
I made sure to hang around the back
of the group so I could goof off a little bit with my son David. Hospitals made
me a little queasy since my mom’s death. I associated hospitals with my mom’s
cancer and with taking Libby to her cancer surgery, to her chemotherapy, and for
her radiation treatments. I wanted to keep the mood fun and light as possible,
hence my propensity to hang in the back and act just a little bit like a class
clown. We went from room to room singing with enthusiasm. Some patients were very
happy to see us while others seemed to be too sick to enjoy – quite understandable.
We were moving at a pretty good
pace. I was cruising along, grooving on the carols when I heard someone call
out my name. “Hey Dave!” “Is that you?” I wondered if they were talking to me. Na,
it couldn’t be me. There were always lots of Dave’s around. I looked up for a
second and didn’t hear my name called again so I continued on. Then it happened
again. Everyone was getting settled in the room when I heard someone call out
my name. “Hey Dave.” They were talking to me. I was being summonsed. Everyone
scooted out of the way so I could get through, and make my way to the bedside.
There was a middle-aged man in the bed. His wife was sitting next to him. It
was obvious that they knew me. But I didn’t recognize either one of them! Who
were they? What did they want?
The man in the bed was deathly ill.
His wife began to tell me that they both attended the church where I played
guitar. She told me that her husband made sure to show up early every week in
hopes that I would play a prelude. His wife told me that my music was quite
therapeutic for her husband. I was completely blown away by the fact that they
came to church to hear me perform, much less finding out that they found solace
and peace in my music – wow! I was honored, but not sure what to think. I asked
the gentlemen if he would like to listen to my “Live At The Mayflower Hotel”
record while he was in the hospital. He said that he did. I promised to drop the
cd off at his hospital room the next day, and I did.
Looking back now, I realize that I
didn’t appreciate the magnitude of that encounter as it was happening. In fact,
I went right back to my daily grind the minute after I dropped off that CD. I
was jaded and cynical back then. I didn’t view that encounter as being anything
special at all. It was just another day. I quickly turned my focus back inward,
back on myself wondering where my accolades were. After all I had dedicated so
much of my life to my music – where were my rewards? I’m sure God was wondering
why I couldn’t recognize the beauty, and grace of what had occurred. I was
being rewarded in a loving and awesome way but I couldn’t see it because I was
equating blessings with hard cold cash and public recognition.
The holidays had passed and winter
was in full swing. It was a cold, wintry Sunday morning. I was walking up from
the basement of the church where the choir rehearsed every Sunday morning
before mass. I was in a stairwell all by myself – at least I thought I was. I
was focusing on navigating the steps so as to not trip and fall with my guitar
when I heard a voice echoing around the concrete, hollow walls. The voice said “Hey
Dave.” I held onto my guitar with a tight grip and turned my neck. I didn’t
recognize the voice. Lo and behold, it was the gentlemen’s wife that I had met
at the hospital over the Christmas holiday. She stopped to thank me for being
so kind to her husband. She went on to reiterate how much her husband had
enjoyed my music. He had been listening to the CD that I dropped off - it was
special to him. It comforted him immensely. Then she told me – “my husband
passed, but I needed to let you know how much your music meant to him.” It was
important that she let me know. I was taken back. I was clearly startled. I
didn’t know what to say. I don’t remember having any response. It freaked me
out. I just wanted to get upstairs. I remember thinking that I was glad that
she located me and she was able to get that off her chest. I was being a dummy.
I didn’t realize at the time that the message was for me. It wasn’t for her,
and it wasn’t for her husband. Yes, they enjoyed my music, but they were moving
on with their lives, hers on earth, and his in heaven. I was being given
important information for my journey and about my life’s work as a musician but
I couldn’t’ see it. I was blind.
It was after I got home and told
Libby the story that it dawned on me as to how profound that experience was.
Here I was thinking that my music wasn’t making a difference to anyone in the
world and I was being shown that it in fact it had made a huge difference in
someone’s life. Not just in someone’s life, but in the life of a person that I
didn’t even know. Our paths were brought together for a reason, but I was too
self absorbed to notice what was happening. I had no idea that I had made a
dying persons load lighter, a little easier, a little less burdensome, slightly
more awesome in fact! Maybe I didn’t need to know. I just needed to have faith in
knowing that I was making a difference in the world and that was it – that was
the lesson. I needed to stop thinking about myself, and put my focus on others.
I needed to extend my hand to make sure that other people’s days were brighter
instead of extending my hand expecting personal gain.
Every time I got down on my music,
or considered giving up, Libby would remind me of how much my music had meant
to that husband and wife. She would remind me that my music had helped ease someone’s
pain as they prepared to leave the physical world. I’ve never doubted, since
that Christmas, the impact that my music might be having on people regardless
of whether or not I’m aware of it. It’s not about me getting accolades, or
getting high fives for my music, it’s about continuing to do my life’s work and
having faith and knowing that I’m making a difference even when I’m not getting
recognition. It’s not about me.
I sometimes ask – what’s in it for
me? And I hear those familiar words “it’s not about you. Just keep playing,
keep teaching, keep mentoring, and keep volunteering. You’ll have everything
that you need for your journey. You’ll be supplied with ample food, shelter,
clothes and more!!! All of your needs, and desires will be fulfilled – just have
faith and know that you’re making a difference in people’s lives each and every
day!” Keep Going – It Matters, You Matter!!
We all play very special roles in
someone’s life! Don’t take it for granted. Someone is counting on you, they
appreciate you, and they really need you. Don’t look for someone else to help,
someone who’s famous, or someone that’s rich, or someone that lives across
town. Realize that your life’s work and contribution is directly under your
nose. Stop looking for what you need, you already have it, you’re doing it,
you’re living it right now – you matter and the world needs you to know that!
Until next time – Surf it Mellow my
brothers and sisters – the MD
