[CS-FSLUG] THE SPARROW AT STARBUCKS

[Fred Miller]

THE SPARROW AT STARBUCKS
(The song that silenced the cappuccino machine)
by John Thomas Oaks

      It was chilly in Manhattan but warm inside the Starbucks shop on 51st
Street and Broadway, just a skip up from Times Square. Early November weather
in New York City holds only the slightest hint of the bitter chill of late
December and January, but it's enough to send the masses crowding indoors to
vie for available space and warmth.
      For a musician, it's the most lucrative Starbucks location in the world,
I'm told, and consequently, the tips can be substantial if you play your tunes
right. Apparently, we were striking all the right chords that night, because
our basket was almost overflowing.
      It was a fun, low-pressure gig -- I was playing keyboard and singing
backup for my friend who also added rhythm with an arsenal of percussion 
instruments. We mostly did pop songs from the '40s to the '90s with a few 
original tunes thrown in.  During our emotional rendition of the classic, "If 
You Don't Know Me by Now," I noticed a lady sitting in one of the lounge 
chairs across from me, swaying to the beat and singing along.
      After the tune was over, she approached me. "I apologize for singing 
along on that song. Did it bother you?" she asked.
      "No," I replied. "We love it when the audience joins in. Would you like 
to sing up front on the next selection?"  To my delight, she accepted my
invitation.  "You choose," I said. "What are you in the mood to sing?"  "Well.
... do you know any hymns?"
      Hymns? This woman didn't know who she was dealing with. I had cut my 
teeth on hymns. Before I was even born, I was going to church. I gave our
guest singer a knowing look. "Name one."  "Oh, I don't know. There are so many
good ones.  You pick one." 
      "Okay," I replied. "How about 'His Eye is on the Sparrow'?"  My new 
friend was silent, her eyes averted. Then she fixed her eyes on mine again 
and said, "Yeah. Let's do that one," slowly nodding her head.
      She put down her purse, straightened her jacket and faced the center of
the shop. With my two-bar setup, she began to sing.  "Why should I be
discouraged?  Why should the shadows come?"
      The audience of coffee drinkers was transfixed.  Even the gurgling 
noises of the cappuccino machine ceased as the employees stopped what they 
were doing to listen. The song rose to its conclusion: "I sing because I'm 
happy; I sing because I'm free. For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He 
watches me.
      When the last note was sung, the applause crescendoed to a deafening 
roar that would have rivaled a sold-out crowd at Carnegie Hall.  Embarrassed, 
the woman tried to shout over the din, "Oh, y'all go back to your coffee!  I 
didn't come in here to do a concert!  I just came in here to get somethin' to 
drink, just like you!"
     But the ovation continued. I embraced my new friend. "You, my dear, have
made my whole year! That was beautiful!"  "Well, it's funny that you picked
that particular hymn," she said.  "Why is that?"  "Well . ..." she hesitated
again, "that was my daughter's favorite song."  "Really!" I exclaimed.   
"Yes," she said, and then grabbed my hands. By this time, the applause had 
subsided and it was business as usual. "She was 16. She died of a brain tumor 
last week."
      I said the first thing that found its way through my stunned silence. 
"Are you going to be okay?"  She smiled through tear-filled eyes and squeezed 
my hands. "I'm gonna be okay. I've just got to keep trusting the Lord and 
singing His songs, and everything's gonna be just fine."  She picked up her 
bag, gave me her card, and then she was gone.
      Was it just a coincidence that we happened to be singing in that
particular coffee shop on that particular November night? Coincidence that 
this wonderful lady just happened to walk into that particular shop? 
Coincidence that of all the hymns to choose from, I just happened to pick the 
very hymn that was the favorite of her daughter, who had died just the week 
before? I refuse to believe it.
      God has been arranging encounters in human history since the beginning 
of time, and it's no stretch for me to imagine that he could reach into a 
coffee shop in midtown Manhattan and turn an ordinary gig into a revival. It 
was a great reminder that if we keep trusting Him and singing His songs, 
everything's gonna be okay.

-- 
"Running Windows on a Pentium is like getting a Porsche but only being
able to drive it in reverse with the handbrake on."