tears

                   Not like me to cry much but over the last few days I have been reduced to tears twice, coming and flowing very easily too. Not like me, though I felt  comfortable crying them. Maybe I don’t cry enough.

 

     Still at the leadership Summit in Willow Creek Community Church in Chicago. Just finished today. Both tearful incidents came in the course of the sessions here.

 

   One of the sessions was with Richard Curtis, writer, film director of Notting Hill, Vicar of Dibley, Mr Bean, interviewed by Bill Hybels about his heart for the poor and Red Nose Day. He doesn’t have faith figured out yet particularly but one of the things I love about this conference is the exposure to people of little or no faith who are all leaders and who can be learnt from.

 

    In the course of the interview, some film was shown of two little boys, living as orphans in a house in what was little more than a rubbish dump in Africa. This had been filmed for the American Idol TV show and involved Simon Cowell and the presenter of the show, Ryan Seacrest, visitin g these little boys. One of the little boys, in saying that he had no mum and dad, broke down into floods of tears. My heart was touched and I balled my eyes out, tears streaming down my face at their plight. I was so touched, so stirred to want to do something for that little boy and his breaking heart. Even as I write this, the tears are coming again.

 

     The other occasion was the last session of the conference today, which was about the power of inspiration in the life of leaders and followers. It began by telling the story of another remarkable boy, Patrick Hughes, for the US, who was born with no eyes and unable to walk, but who from very early on showed an amazing affinity for music, especially playing the piano. His struggle all of his life with his disability he has not allowed to hold him back. Just as great a hero is his dad, who works the night shift every night to spend the day with his son, wheeling him around in his wheel chair. The most amazing sight was young Patrick playing the trumpet in the school marching band, being wheeled around the field by his dad in the formation of the band, playing for all he was worth.

 

     When the film ended, the lights came on to reveal Patrick at the piano and he sang and played for us. Incredible. I cried. From the heart again. And was inspired. And grateful for a remarkable life. And a remarkable dad.

 

Gordon  McDade