As I write this note, I’m sitting in the lobby of a hotel in Antigua, Guatemala. A woman is mopping the floor, trucks are rumbling by outside, and church bells ring in the distance. Even with all of that sound, there is a certain kind of quiet. I’m on the last day of a trip hosting a group of folks who came to learn more about the work of Senderos in Guatemala. Deanna and I founded this small non-profit in 2004, and it is always moving to come back and see the amazing work that so many people are doing here.
I’ve been thinking a lot about mentors on this trip. I’ve had a chance to reconnect with folks here in Guatemala who have given their lives to the work of loving young people and helping them find themselves and their way in the world, and it is so deeply inspiring to me to see how they have given of themselves to create space for others to flourish.
Two folks who have been mentors to me (knowingly or unknowingly) have been much in my heart and mind this week: Parker Palmer, due to some beautiful words he sent about my book a few days ago, and John Paul Walters, because he died on Thursday, after years of living with Parkinson’s. I am feeling the loss of John Paul’s light in the world.
John Paul used to play concerts for the Montreat Youth Conferences when I was a teenager and attending them. He was the first and best example I saw of what I wanted to do with my life. I wrote my first song at 15 (Song for You), and I saw JP play in Montreat only months later. I told him I had written a song, and he asked if I wanted to play it for him. I did, and though I’m sure it was pretty rough, he was beautifully supportive. What he did on stage was beautiful and moving, but what he did after he walked off of that stage showed who he really was — he made all the time in the world to listen and encourage the people who had made room in their hearts for his music.
JP managed to love people from the stage— people he hadn’t even met. His songs helped us feel things we needed to feel, understand things a little differently, consider what we believe, open our hearts to the people around us, and see Spirit moving in the world. It’s a beautiful gift that I have been receiving from him for over 40 years, and I continue to.
When we lost our beloved friend Margaret Rada a little over a year ago, I was asked to play a John Paul Walters song for her memorial service, and I was moved to do so. Light like John Paul’s shines for so long after the candle burns out. I have not been in close touch with him for many years, but it was always a joy to see him when we managed to be in the same place at the same time. The last time was many years ago now, at a concert in Tallahassee. JP came to hear me play, and though he had lost his voice entirely due to vocal dysphonia, he still wanted to share a song he had been working on. Music was his love language.
Mentoring takes many forms, and I don’t imagine JP has any idea how much influence he had on me. And on so many others. I broke down talking about him and his influence on me in a group conversation here a couple of nights ago. I am deeply grateful for the gift that John Paul and his music were, and are.
Vaya con Dios, JP. Well done. And thank you.
Here is JP’s obituary, if you would like to read more about him and his music:
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