Flute stories
Everything has a story. That's what I said at the young adult group this afternoon. I don't think many pastors come playing flute. What does it mean? So I mentioned the story my father told me when I was 7 or 8. He recalled his experiences camping out on the make-shift airfields in North Africa with the 48th Fighter Squadron. At night time he could hear echoing down from the mountains the native flutes. When I heard him tell the story, I could visualize it and here the distant flute melodies, or at least I imagined it. And that's sort of why I play flute. Dad's story. Today I recalled that story with the young adults in a church in Singapore. I wasn't very dramatic. Just so, not like Rudyard Kipling. Just so. I don't think my father told it very dramatically, either. But it did its work. Stories have a life of their own. They have a way of getting inside of you and planting a seed and, before you know it, growing into redwood trees. When I heard my fa