Prodigal Medic....

I know probably most of you have seen this, but if you haven’t, its worth your time. This is a clip from the British version of “American Idol” a year or two ago, and a man named Paul Potts. Paul is a cell phone salesman, and apparently, an opera singer. What captures me each and every time I see this clip is the transparent insecurity of this man as he stands on stage, waiting for his music to begin. To me, his facial expression captures what my heart feels so often, although I have learned and conditioned myself to hide so very well over the years. I love watching the look of apprehension on the judges faces when Paul annonces that he is going to sing opera. Bad Ricky Martin impersonations would be an angelic offering compared to bad opera. But as the music starts, and Paul starts singing, the look of amazement on the judges face is magical. Even more miraculous is the transformation of Potts’ body language. His awkward, insecure stance at the beginning of the piece changes as the music rushes out of him. His posture changes, and towards the end of the clip, as audience members are leaping to their feet and judges are watching, mouths agape and in rapt attention, Paul stands, with his arms spread, his head tilted backwards and being just who he was meant to be. I relate so much to this. I crave being accepted and loved like this and truly, this is almost my tangible version of the prodigal son. I find myself thinking about how God will welcome me home one day, with that same applause. In the meantime, like Paul when the music ends, I struggle to find my sense of self, my confidence and my place in this world.