Standing on the west bank of the St. Croix River in beautiful downtown Stillwater blessed me immensely last week. The Rollaz put on a great show in front of an enthusiastic crowd. The weather couldn't have been any better. I had a smile for nearly three hours as I looked back at Matt pounding out rhythms and then to my left to see Lisa Lynn slappin' the stand up bass.
Behind them was a cresting river and an awesome view of the historic Lift Bridge.
I kept thinking, "Man, am I lucky to be doing this."
When we charge at rockabilly and rock 'n' roll there's a soul-filled syncopation that creates a sound much bigger than our three-piece looks.
It feels like like gliding. It feels like Heaven.
Yet, as cool as the the show was, there were a couple of conversations following it that really blessed me.
We love getting approached by people after our performances. For the most part they just want to tell us they enjoyed the show and ask when and where we're playing next.
This night was different.
A sweet lady approached me and asked what our name meant. I went into my regular spiel about how I love it when Robin says "HOLY (fill in the blank) Batman!" in the Adam West Batman TV show. How I always chuckle when Lord Humongous is introduced as "the Ayatollah of Rock 'n' Rolla!" in the "Road Warrior" movie. And how I wanted the name of the band to reflect our start doing prison ministry.
I often tell people, "We love the Lord. And we love rock 'n' roll."
People are either relieved or further perplexed when I share that. Sometimes an apprehensive look comes over their face while they wonder if they're about to get preached at. But this lady smiled when she realized I'm serious about my faith.
She told told me how much she and her family enjoyed the concert. She singled out "I Saw The Light" and said her family needed to hear that one.
Then she blurted out, "My mom died last night."
I didn't see that coming. I felt for her immediately.
She went on. "That's my dad over there. He said he couldn't just sit in the house tonight. He had to get out, so we came here. Your music really blessed us."
Then she teared up.
"She lost her legs. But now she's in Heaven. And she's whole. She's with the Lord and she was looking down on us tonight. She was here."
I agreed and found myself hugging this lady who just moments before was a stranger.
I felt even more blessed as she thanked me and returned to her family. I saw her dad wave a "Thank You" as they walked away.
That moment put things in perspective. I returned to helping tear down our gear. Just as Matt and I had most of the stuff in our cars, another lady walked up to us asking, "Is the band still here?" I told her we were the band, but that our performance was over.
She didn't care. She had a message for us.
"I live up on the hill and I heard you tonight. I wanted you to know what just happened. I have a three-year-old girl with a brain condition that stopped her from being able to speak. She's on medication and therapy, but I wanted you to know this. Your music was crystal clear up the hill and my daughter was dancing."
Then she said, "Mommy! I go boogie!!!"
"My daughter put a sentence together tonight! Because of the music! I ran down the hill to let you know that. Thank you!"
She left with a big smile. Matt and I shared one and went, "Cool!"
I hopped in my car double stung with those encounters.
I got to thinkin'..."They say it's the little things that matter."
It's the big things.