I walked through the doors this morning expecting the usual. People passing by at the copy machine. Me rushing around trying to figure out plans for the day. Smiling children. Bells ringing. Shuffling feet. All of those things occurred this fine Tuesday but there were some some unexpected surprises. 

Only five minutes walking to the copier, I realized one of my colleagues was crying. And she never cries. Apparently, her cat was incredibly sick and she was going to have to put it down today. With tears running down her face she apologized multiple times for crying. I always find it interesting that we as humans feel the need to apologize for our uncontrollable tears. With no cat of my own, I did my best to place myself in her shoes. Losing a pet is hard. Sometimes, surprises can really throw a wrench in someone's day. 

After lunch, I ran to the office to grab a pen because I could not find one of my own. As I was getting reading to walk out, another one of my colleagues came into the office with tears in his eyes. Once again, this colleague never cries. It was evident something was terribly wrong. In a low voice, he whispered the fact that his father had most likely had a stroke that morning. He had woken up unable to tie his shoes. Ironically, I had seen him days before at an Urban Impact session. Never once would you think this would happen to someone like him. Never once would you think that something so bad could happen to someone so very good. 

This colleague's father is by far one of the greatest human beings I have ever met. He is a faith-filled man whom I joke around with every Wednesday and Thursday at Urban Impact. He spent thirty years teaching in Urban School District both in Texas and then in Pittsburgh as a band director and esteemed music educator. He has the patience of a saint, the creativity of an artist and the manners of a humble gentleman. He is beyond brilliant with his knowledge of every woodwind instrument, and he has dedicated his life to mentoring and improving the lives of all of his students through passing on the sound of music. Many of his former students have gone on to either pursue music education, music ministry or performance. His dedication is unmatched, his spirit so very pure. 

And you think back to the hours and hours this man has played with his own children. The amount of scales practiced, jazz music played, runs conquered, notes blared. Hands used to fix hearts and tears, memories and broken instruments. And then you hear that his right hand now has a difficult time moving. He cannot tie his shoes. He cannot button his shirts or zipper up his coat. And so many times you think to yourself, "How can something so awful happen to such a beautiful person."

He's okay, though. He still has his sense of humor. Nothing could have tarnished this soul. This heart. And the music will always remain. Something tells me during his weeks of recovery, he will be able to regian that strength in his hand to play the notes he wants to play, to spread the melodies he wants to spread, to teach the music he wants to teach. To cherish the days he still has left. For no bad circumstance can ever stop someone from pursuing His plan and His purpose. Afterall, he never played his instrument with his hands. He played with his heart.