watch a weigh my sense

This morning at church a young lady I hardly know was baptized. I’d been upstairs helping out with the kids’ class, but we all headed back to the auditorium to watch. We crowded in at the front of the auditorium, and I had one kid on my lap and more all around me.

Just as the Chloe’s father was about to immerse her in the water, usually a quietly profound and moving moment for the congregation, the eight-year-old boy next to me leaned in and whispered, “Did you know she plays the bagpipes and she’s only in the second grade?”

“Really? That’s cool,” I said admiringly. Then she went under and then she came up clean. We all clapped and rejoiced.

After service, I ran into her as she and her mom were leaving. Her hair was still wet when I hugged her and congratulated her on becoming a Christian.

Then I said, “I hear you play the bagpipes.”

She looked at me the way most kids would look at me if I handed them a set of bagpipes.

Then her mother, who I’d also never spoken to before, caught wind of our conversation and said, “What?”

“Bagpipes,” I repeated, looking back and forth between Chloe and her mother. “Don’t you play the bagpipes? Jack Henderson told me you play the bagpipes…”

She shook her head and her mother laughed. “Oh, Jack. He just made that up.”

I babysit Jack a lot. He’s one of my favorites, so somehow I found myself defending him even in this preposterous situation. “He doesn’t usually lie,” I said, as if I believed there must have been some occasion when Chloe had at least pretended to play the bagpipes and Jack remembered it. I pictured her playing a Scot in a school play, kilted and winded. "You know, Jack Henderson, age eight, reliable source."

They both laughed. I blushed for having believed that a little girl could play pipes that take the air out of full-grown men, and for this being my very first conversation with Chloe or her mother. I suppose it was a good ice breaker.

I told her that next time I see Jack, I will tell him all about how much I enjoyed her recent bagpipe recital.

Surprise!

Have you ever walked into something wonderful, completely unaware of where you were going and without expectation? Have you seen a performance of some sort with no previous knowledge, and walked away wishing for more? Have you seen a concert in an unlikely place or at an unlikely time, and came away whistling the tunes of the band or artist?

If you have, then you have experienced the top rung of the evolutionary ladder of the genus Pleasantus surprisus. I've been fortunate to experience a few of these instances.

Tonight, I received an email from the University of Arkansas. It said I should go to a concert in the Union Theater. For a week now I've been planning to write the literature review for my research project, and I had just settled into the idea of buckling down and getting it done tonight, so of course I accepted the invitation to do something else. The electronic flier attached in the email looked cool, and the band's myspace sounded alright, so there was no way I was going to let my responsible nature get in the way this time.

Bowerbirds is truly delightful. The band played against a backdrop of black and burgundy velvet curtains and to an audience in theater seats, and I really felt like I was at a play or the premiere of some new indie flick that only the elite knew about and I somehow stumbled into. The music was as simple and complex as many Andrew Bird songs, but there was a definite originality to the three-piece from North Carolina. After the set, the band played an encore performance in the stairwell down the hall; the audience just followed and filed in, lining the railing up three flights of stairs. Needless to say, I was impressed. I bought two albums.