I’ve been thinking about the two themes that have kept emerging in my songs over the decades: Holding on, and Letting go. With the upcoming tour of The Forgotten Carols (check out ForgottenCarols.com for details), I think this might be a good time to share this “true confession” from my past.
I was broke. How broke? Make-your-own-pizza-and-watch-PBS-broke.
I’d lost all our savings financing a tour of the show “Celebrating the Light” I’d written for the Promised Valley Playhouse. Though I’d felt we’d done some good, with each passing day and each arriving bill, I was less impressed with what we’d accomplished. I believed I was the guy who actually had S T U P I D written on my forehead.
It was the end of summer and there was a convention for all the wholesalers and retailers that sold my books and music. Given my situation, I attacked the convention like a used car salesman showing a sports car to a teenager. I was a bit much, which surprised no one who knows me. And with the holiday season approaching I was pushing a Christmas story with music package I’d written called The Forgotten Carol”. As a special inducement to order big, I told the merchants for every copy they bought a sin would be removed.
The booth where I was working was right next to one that housed Richard Paul Evans, the author of a little book called The Christmas Box He was signing autographs, and celebrating the news that some big time publisher had bought the book for MILLIONS of dollars. Oh, and in a few months his story would be seen on network television starring John Boy Walton…(I know he’s got a real name, but he’ll always be John Boy to me) and Maureen O’Hara. MAUREEN O’HARA!!!! The woman who made me wish I was John Wayne.
Richard was nursing a cold that day, but he was as kind and gracious as could be, and it seemed to me that I ought to congratulate him on his success. I approached the booth to do this very magnanimous thing which would go down in the history of the world as one of the six most humble and thoughtful acts ever performed by someone not named Ghandi. AND I HAD TO STAND IN LINE!!!!!
The longer I waited the harder it was to keep that plastic smile on my face. This guy was a MILLIONAIRE and was probably going to have lunch with Maureen O’Hara and I had to STAND IN LINE to pay homage at the altar of his phenomenal luck. Oh, the injustice, the horror.
When I finally got my audience with Mr. Evans I gave my little congratulatory speech, which would have come across much more sincere if I had written it down and mailed it to him because he wouldn’t have noticed that the words were coming from a man who’d turned GREEN.
All the way home I kept thinking how totally unfair the universe is. I mean, come on, if there’s any book that ought to make millions of dollars it was MINE. My book wasn’t just a touching little sentimental Christmas story. It was a touching little sentimental Christmas story WITH SONGS. I didn’t see Richard Paul Evans writing any songs for his book.
And if there were any justice in the world, shouldn’t the guy who slaved for 17 years at a production company learning how to make movies get to take Ms. O’Hara to the prom.
I said none of these things out loud, of course, to anyone. But I couldn’t hide what I was feeling from myself. There was a continuous tape loop of the injustice that played over and over and over and try as I may, I couldn’t switch it off.
As a kid I’d learned that sometimes if you want to feel a certain way you have to act a certain way and the feelings would follow. I tried acting like I was excited for someone else’s success and not miserable about my own failure but it didn’t work. The harder I tried the worse it got, because I became more convinced that the heavens had shafted me.
This led to a very painful discovery. It’s exhausting being a jealous creep on the inside while masquerading as a really wonderful guy on the outside. It occurred to me that the kind of people I always wanted to be invited to lunch with weren’t searching the black market for voodoo dolls of millionaire authors. I began a self-examination that took me deep into the recesses of my soul. I found there were a couple of other things down there as well that I wasn’t too proud of.
So, I made a list of all the things that I noticed weren’t so wonderful about me and it was six pages long. SIX PAGES!! And then I thought of a few more things about me that needed to change. I was overwhelmed.
So I went to the top of the list, where I’d written about my issues of jealousy and envy in great detail, and put them in a separate file labeled: THINGS I JUST CAN’T DO BY MYSELF. I then told God how sorry I was that I kind of hated one of His children and couldn’t even manufacture an even slightly sincere feeling of happiness for him no matter how hard I tried. I also told the Almighty that I wasn’t turning this over to Him because I thought He’d be mad at me for not getting this fixed on my own, but because I just hated the way I felt inside and didn’t want to carry it any longer. For all my phoniness and pretending with others, my little prayer was actually sincere.
The heavens didn’t open. I heard no voices. There was silence.
Since I didn’t know what else to do, I just left it alone for a while, there in the separate file. I let it go.
About six weeks later I was alone in Sam’s Club. I rounded the corner and there was this massive display of the new book by Colin Powell, who’d received so much attention for his role in the Gulf War. It was an impressive display, to say the least, and right next to it, even more impressive was the banner which read: THE MOST SUCCESSFUL CHRISTMAS STORY SINCE ‘A CHRISTMAS CAROL’: RICHARD PAUL EVANS’ THE CHRISTMAS BOX.
It was an amazing sight. There is no writer on face of earth that wouldn’t weep for joy at such a promotion for their work. It was gorgeous and classy and just beyond wonderful.
And as I looked at it I heard myself say, “Way to go, Richard.”
And I meant it. I felt it. It was real. I couldn’t believe it. Genuine, true feelings were filling me up. I was so happy for this guy. It stunned me how this was happening, and I started to cry in the aisle at Sam’s Club. And it wasn’t just wipe-your-eye crying. It was shake your shoulders, face in your hands, goobers in the nose crying.
People would gently approach me and ask if I was okay.
“Isn’t it a beautiful display” was all I could say.
You know, there are little miracles that happen all the time.
..like Moses parting the Red Sea…and then every once in a while God does something really impossible just to remind us that He’s God. He changes somebody’s heart.
All that’s wrong in your life, let it go
All that is worth saving is love
Love will hold you tight
Love lifts the burden and love shines the light
Only love, nourishes us so
If it’s not love
Simply let it go.
Listen to the song here.
Michael McLean is a noted LDS composer and creator of several albums, books, and films.