In My Underwear
On Saturday, the wife and I attended our second Christian concert, that of
Nichole Nordeman.
Those who have been following along closely (ok, so none
of you accept my wife – hey babe!) might note that our
first
Christian concert also featured Nichole Nordeman. It isn’t a coincidence.
There were two main differences this time around, however.
The first major difference was that Nichole was the headliner this time. We
got a full set; not just the four or five songs that an opening act is allowed.
The second difference was the major change in venue. When she opened for
Steven Curtis Chapman, she did so at the
Hershey Arena,
admittedly not the largest or nicest venue in the world but an arena
just the same. This time we were off to
River Valley Ranch, a small Christian camp that has weekly, Saturday night concerts. Seating this time around was probably around 1000, not 12000. This time there was no giant stage, raised high to allow the people in back a chance to peek at the
performers. Nor did the stage contain racks of equipment and music
instruments. No, this time it was a quaint stage, a single piano, and
Nichole herself; a change in venue indeed.
I’ve seen few performers multiple times and I don’t think I’ve ever seen
a singer perform in both a large and small venue. The differences were
stark, to say the least. Gone was any glitz or glamour that accompanied the
arena performance. Also gone was any nervousness in her mannerisms.
This was her concert, her piano, and her voice. It had to carry the day
without the aid of a drummer or any backup instruments whatsoever. And
it did. The concert was intimate, well worth the money paid, and, most of all,
a great opportunity to worship God outside of the church walls.
So where did the title of this blog come from? I can certainly attest to the
fact that Mrs. Nordeman did not perform in her underwear. That doesn’t mean
that others were so, um.., lucky. During the break between the opening act
and Nichole, I needed a visit to the bathroom. In the case of the ranch,
you had a choice of a couple of port-a-pots or some bathrooms across the way.
I choose a port-a-pot. There wasn’t a line, only a small boy milling about
by the door of one of the bathrooms.
The boy occasionally attempted to open the locked door of the bathroom,
aiding the discomfort of his young sister stationed inside. A little time
passed and a mother appeared at the bottom of the hill,
looking a bit impatient.
The boy must have mentioned this to his sister, prompting her to reveal the
problem: “Mommy, I have poopie in my underwear.”
To which the boy replied, yelling down the hill to his mother, “Mommy, she
has poopie in her underwear.” Mom rolls her eyes. It’s going to be one
of those days.
The funniest thing about the exchange was the total lack of panic in the
young girl’s voice (I know I’d be pretty panicked if it was me who had poopie
in my underwear; shew, clean – at least at the moment). There was no shame
at all. She was just stating a fact, a fact that I don’t believe she knew
was relayed across great distances. It was just another thing that happened
that day, like getting the sniffles or finding her favorite toy.
It’s this kind of stuff that reminds you what it will be like to be parent –
no rest stops, no time off from the kids. 24 hours a day of nuture and
problem solving thrown into the mix with helpings of love.
It’s a bit ironic that God choose a Christian concert
to remind me that we’ll always need His help. There will be days like that
in store for Jenn and I, despite the fact that the poopie thing was
not on the sign up sheet. At least we’ll know who to lean on.
Laura
August 13th, 2002 at 12:46 pm #
I “accept” your wife. I think she’s very nice. :)
Jenn
August 13th, 2002 at 6:13 pm #
Its like I said before. God wanted you to see what you were getting ready for! I have a feeling we will be doing a lot of leaning on him from time to time.