Dorrier Underwood

I’m one of those “shower singers.” I sing along in the car to songs that I love and don’t want others to hear, for fear of scaring them off.  Singing creates something in my body that matches my thoughts and emotions – all of it coming together. When I heard Elise Witt was performing at Oakhurst Baptist, I knew Liz and I had to go.  Elise has a reputation for creating singing communities. What makes her so special is the way she engages the audience to join in so that everyone comes together as one voice. Liz and I stumbled into her a couple of years ago at a concert where she was co-performing with another musician. I can’t remember the other performer’s name, but I sure remember Elise.  Singing with Elise made Liz and me want to get up and dance.   And so it was again.  We danced to her new song, My Salsa Garden. There was a young schoolgirl who led us, quite spontaneously.  Hopping off her father’s lap, she took her place in the aisle and started moving, totally unencum

Today I got that the only thing preventing miracles from flooding into my life at every moment is my commitment to being right—right about how sales is hard, or publishing has obstacles, or how this, that or the other thing is impossible. It takes my breath away to realize how much of a controlling interest I have in the corporation “This Can’t Happen.” I also own 51% of the company “That’s Nice for You,” which recently merged with the famous “Never Mind. I’m Fine.” I also got the inextricable link between miracles and integrity, meaning no integrity = no miracles.  I had been trying to get in touch with this woman, Tonya, for two weeks. I sent emails, I phoned (“This party’s voice-message system has not been activated”) —nothing. Today at a break during a meeting, the assignment on the break was to have a miracle. Called Tonya again—again, nothing. And I was committed to doing the assignment and having a miracle anyway, so I didn’t give up and just go have a cup of coffee.  A