Don's lecture...

Ok, so last night was the Donald Miller lecture! I had purchased my two tickets on-line last week, one for me and one for my friend - everything was good. Then, the day before yesterday, my friend called with news that he would not be able to make the long drive from Tucson, after work, to attend the evening lecture and then be able to drive all the way home so late at night. Being that my friend is considerably younger than I am and being that I am an early to-bed kind of gal who is usually jammied up by eight, I began to have concerns about my own ability to drive the 60 miles home, following the late lecture. Still, peril and all, I was going.

Our oldest daughter, always considerate of others, offered to go with me, just so I wouldn't go alone.  I dropped the kids off at their practice field, where my husband was waiting, visited with some friends as we left and hit the road with Audra for the long drive. Although I had not minded the thought of going alone, it was so nice to have her with me. She's funny, sweet and delightful to talk with, which made the long journey much shorter.

Arriving at the church where Mr. Miller was speaking, we gathered our things and headed in. The first thing that alarmed me, were all the empty parking spaces in the huge lot. We were running late and I had not imagined getting to park so close. Rushing, I began jamming my yellow notepad along with his newest book into my purse so I wouldn't look like a nerd.  Audra quickly reminded me that just being there made me a nerd. I didn't care, I was giddy. "Mother," she said," you look like a 10 year old at a Jonas Brother's concert."  I felt like a 10 year old and I was hoping for an autograph.

As we walked in, a second alarm rang - where were all the people, all the lines? "Are we at the right church?" I asked Audra, as she was in charge of directions. She shrugged. I looked around for the will-call area, expecting a major-league baseball stadium, set-up with alphabetical windows and lines of people. Instead, there sat a bent-over white-haired lady sitting behind a folding table that held a little hand-written sign, tickets. She found my name and handed me the tickets while Audra looked on, obviously perplexed that we had driven 60 miles, for this.

Susan Isaacs was on stage, doing a monologue from the book she had written. She was funny and the end of her monologue, which was really the only part we heard, was thought-provoking and serious. Still, I didn't know anything about her and I was there for Miller. He came on stage, to applause from all 60 people, and did a brief introduction of his mission project, before dismissing us for a fifteen minute intermission. 

For a brief moment, I thought about running down to the front row to sit, while those people were off intermissing. I decided, however, that my giddiness could, quite possibly, be an unwelcome distraction for Mr. Miller, who seemed far too mature and academic for such nonsense. So, we remained in our seats, several rows back and waited for him to return. 

He came out, humble, soft-spoken and funny. He was, in person, exactly like he is in his books. Just a guy who enjoys observing and writing about his surroundings, situations and experiences from a unique, honest perspective. He lectured and discussed his new book for an hour and a half. He talked about how each of our lives are really like a story. That we need to tell a really good story with our lives and not with our mouths. About how we need to stop being against things and we should start being for things. Big things that impact the world. 

He's right, of course. We do need to live a good story. As the lecture drew to a close, he offered autographs back stage to those who were part of his mission team and then others who were willing to wait. The line formed rapidly and looking over at my weary child, I decided that the autograph wasn't a big deal. I hugged Audra as we walked out to tackle the long drive home, grateful to be living my story.

Comments

[KC]

Sweet. Sorry that I could not be there to witness "The Don" with you. Glad you made it and sounds like you had good company.