Whenever I finish reading a book, which happens about twice a month (most recently "The Next Person You Meet In Heaven"), I think to myself, "Man, what I would give to have such talent...to tell a story in such a compelling way." I think that would be the ultimate gift.
Then whenever I hear someone deliver an excellent message, one that makes me laugh and think and want to be the best that I can be, I am so envious, saying to myself, "I wish I could captivate the attention of an audience like that...moving people, touching their heart." I think that would be the ultimate gift.
Then whenever I see a movie, from something as inspirational as "The Shack" to as funny as "Smokey And The Bandit," I feel so immersed into this whole other world, wishing I too could help people get there. "Can you imagine being part of a production like 'Forrest Gump?" I ask. I think that would be the ultimate gift.
But as I sit here this rainy evening, sitting in front of my computer screen and rubbing my eyes because it has a been a very long and challenging day, I turn up the speakers and click over to YouTube. It is there that I truly find the ultimate gift.
The gift of music.
In a span of a little more than 30 minutes, I've been to Madison Square Garden, jamming to Bruce Springsteen as he sings, "Dancing In The Dark." I've been to Red Rocks Amphitheater as Bruno Mars sends the crowd into a frenzy with "Uptown Funk." Then I slowed it down a bit to hum along with Zac Brown Band at Fenway Park, "Highway 20 Ride."
My experience this evening settles it. There can be no greater gift than to sing, to harmonize, to let music take people in so many different directions...all at the same time. In a stadium. In a music hall. In a church. Or in a small bar on the other side of town. I can't even explain it.
Music. Hands down. Discussion's over.
The ultimate gift.
I've got to go now. I'm joining the Eagles on a tour stop in Nashville. Time for some "Hotel California."