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Sparrow at Starbucks

Donna G

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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. She was 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 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."

She slowly nodded her head, 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.

Holy moment

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


"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


"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.

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