Small acts of kindness.

Waaaay back in Bossier City, Louisiana era 1983-ish, I was a 12 or 13 year old annoying kid that was always hanging around Waller Baptist Church. One Sunday night at church, we had a traveling praise group come through and do a concert.  This was an extremely rare occurrence, since our church was so very, very conservative and rarely had visiting musicians/vocalists/groups from elsewhere perform.  Especially young people with (gasp!) electric guitars and drums, which are of course, pure evil from the pits of Dallas.

I was always fascinated with the electric guitar and the bands I had heard up to that point, but it seemed to be something other kids did in big cities and such. Guitars were something I occasionally saw and marveled at, because it seemed like such a unique way to express yourself and it symbolized freedom in some way to me. Maybe a bit of fun as well.  

So this praise group played, and I don't remember anything about the music or anything else.  I had no idea if they were any good, or if they were well received by our church.  From what I remember about Waller, probably not accepted too well if they didn't close with "The Family of God", as that church did every single Sunday. Yay tradition.

It was something different, so I hung around afterwards to see what specific, magical, cool things you needed to play guitar; stuff like a guitar, and a cable, and amp, and whatever else I'd need if I ever got the chance to play one.  But I kept my distance, as I was too shy to actually talk to anyone or be a possible annoyance.

But the guitar player for the group noticed me hanging around, and he asked me how I liked the music.  I don't remember any of the conversation or details of it, but it was probably a very short discussion, as I typically had little to add to a conversation at the time.  But for some reason, this annoying kid did not annoy this gentlemen, who was probably 25-27 years old (you know, an old guy). We talked for a few minutes and before I rushed home on my skateboard, he yelled "Hey kid, I got something for you here."  He ran back to his stage setup where he'd been playing and came back with a couple of worn cables, some picks, and a bright orange MXR Phase 90 pedal. He told me, "Can you use these whenever you do start playing?  They might help you get going."  I said something like "Gee, thanks mister!" and raced home to put a 9 volt battery in a pedal that I couldn't hear, since I had no amp to hear it with.

The two cables and the picks he gave me have long since disintegrated and/or disappeared over the years, but I still have that (now extremely worn) MXR Phase 90, as seen in the accompanying picture.  This pedal does NOT make the most useful sound ever-think 70's funk or classic rock leads-but I'll tell you this much, I sure have found a use for it over the years.  This is my 35th year in playing music, and this little pedal has been there when I played for different bands, people's records, projects, and even nowadays; even though I really haven't done much at all musically in the last 15 years. Kids will do that to you.

So when that traveling minstrel dude paused and shared his time with this annoying kid, it changed the course of my life. I've been able to experience so many things and make so many memories, and I've seen lives change forever with a bird's eye when the Holy Spirit moves on people. I've been so blessed to see so much, and I kind of think it started that day.  God used him to kickstart me towards a love of music, and ultimately, a love of leading others in worship.

One of these days I'll be in paradise, walking around and taking in the sights.  And I know I'll run into that traveling minstrel eventually, even though I don't remember what he looks like and I'm sure he wouldn't remember me. And I'll be able to thank him for his kindness, his patience, and for his part in changing my life forever.