Or dare I say "Ye Little of Faith"

I just saw August Rush. (Just go see the movie.) I pride myself in the ability to see a good story or predict a dynamically written movie...so much that I don't feign humility when a movie buddy trusts my taste. This movie is about a little boy who is orphaned, and BELIEVES that music will bring his family back to him. How does he know this? He HEARS it. He knows it is a gift from them. The cast is wonderful (and everybody that is Black is portrayed rather positively), the music is amazing, and now I want to go learn how to play the guitar.

If you watch movies with an analytical and careful eye, you catch the nuances that foreshadow the outcome of the movie. At least sometimes the writers give you some clues just so you maintain hope. Or is the whole movie about faith?

He has no other reason to believe this theory of his. He doesn't even have playing music in common with his parents..but he knows.

It teaches me a few things. He's not young and foolish, but young and faithful. SIDEBAR: Wouldn't you know that the Black church is instrumental in the plot? Today I was proud to be a member. Not that every other day I'm not proud to be a member, but today when I said, "Look what the church did" I wasn't shaking my head. END SIDEBAR....People thought he was foolish, and he didn't care. How many times in my life have I not cared and been faithful to the point folks thought I was foolish and was bold about it?

The thing that it confirms for me is that we have behavioral, attitudinal, and expressive DNA from parents that we do not have to know or have spent lots of time with to receive deposits. I won't tell you how the movie substantiates this because I don't want to blow it for you, but it makes a girl feel safer. Just because I tend to think that I have missed the opportunity to be taught so many things by my own mother does not mean that it isn't already there anyway. Thank you, Jesus. Yes, it was a movie. Maybe it was fictional. I don't care. In this holiday season, when I bounce between "and I pray for quiet in my head that I can hear clearly what God said" (India Arie, This Too Shall Pass) and "if you catch me dreaming, please don't wake me till I'm done, just leave me sleeping, just pass me over, make believe that I'm not there, just leave me be" (Anthony Hamilton, Pass Me Over), it is good to get the reminder that foolish faith ain't foolish. I have been foolish over other things, so I know how to do foolish. Why not make it efficient?

He was 11, and I am twice 11 plus. I have an excellent memory. I have been heartbroken, sad, mad, broke, happy, awestruck, abused, misunderstood, celebrated, loved, and appreciated, but I can't point to any place where I have actually been forsaken. I am inspired to grow up from Ye of little faith to Ye Little of Faith. For in his little tuxedo, he was a 'little' of faith. Like a living vial of it. His gift and his faith were connected. If you poured him out, it would have been music or tears. His music breathed his faith, for it actually moved. Sound waves move, they travel, and they do move mountains. When he cried, he cried with conflict and confidence. He cried around his gift, because he couldn't use his gift, because his faith was in his gift. By the time I cry, it isn't faith (more like fear, fatigue, frustration, submission, or gratitude) that sparks it, and my gifts are waiting on the sidelines for me to finish so they can get back in the game to at least not forfeit the game if they can't make a comeback.

Whether he found his parents or not, he found out who he was and he became who he was. The gift does not fit into a fixed volume vial. I won't tell you what happens, but...Faith comes by hearing. Listen.