As a very young man, I was a Youth Minister in the Catholic Church. I volunteered at St. Francis Xavier Parish in Cashmere, Washington for about 5 years and then was hired by St. Rita Parish in Portland, Oregon as a full time staff member. During the five years of voluntary work for the Church, I held a full time job as a candy factory worker. The job at the factory was very monotonous, boring and un-fulfilling but was a job non-the less. My work with the youth of the parish however, was exciting, creative, personal and vastly fulfilling. In the factory, I felt like I had no more significance than one of the wooden paddles used to mix the candy in the vast copper kettles. If one were to break, you’d just get another. As a youth minister though, I felt like I was doing something very special. I felt I was being called by God; hand selected as it were to do his bidding, share His Gospel and guide His People to His Heart.

It was during those five years of volunteer ministry that I also began to write songs. In fact I learned to play the guitar at the age of 20 because I had a song in my head that needed accompaniment. This new experience of hearing original songs in my head, learning the guitar and then playing and singing my songs for the youth group was exulting. And then one day, at a weekend youth retreat, the retreat leader asked me to give a talk about friendship and I ended the talk by singing, “You Are My Friends”. From that point on, I found myself being invited to various parishes, retreats, church functions, etc., just to play my songs. I felt pretty special and increasingly “important.”
“God had given me this gift of music and I was using that gift to minister to His people”, I thought to myself, especially during the long, boring hours at the candy factory when I felt un-noticed and expendable.

And then, one Saturday I attended a workshop with other Youth Ministers from many denominations in a big convention room in Seattle, Washington. It just so happened that a friend of mine from another city was in attendance and we decided to share the day together.

The workshop was a training session in communication skills. After a brief introduction of the main speaker, he asked that the entire room break up into groups of 10 – 12 and form tight circles. My friend and I decided to be in the same “small group” and once done, we awaited further instructions. The main speaker then asked that we introduce ourselves to the others in the group and include one talent or gift that each person thought they used most effectively in ministry. I remember everyone giving a huge sigh as if to say “do we have to?” but, I also remember thinking I was looking forward to talking about my gift of music. The sharing began and each person described what gift they used in ministry: story telling, arts and crafts, drama, organization, and others who used music. I was the only one who actually wrote my own songs, so when it was my turn to share, I took on a humble but grateful posture and tone of voice and elaborated on how my gift of song writing “hopefully touched kids lives”.

My friend was the last to speak in the group. I remember she took a deep breath and then, before speaking, burst into a chorus – like belly laugh that concluded with, “Oh my God, I have none of those gifts. I can’t sing, I can’t dance, I don’t draw, I can’t act.” And then she paused, took another deep breath and said, “I guess I don’t have any gifts. The only gift I have is to love the kids. I can be with them, laugh with them, cry with them...just love them. It’s all I’ve got.”

It is, to this day, difficult for me to describe what those words, at that time meant for me to hear. It was for me a critical wake up call, the ultimate gut check. So what if I can write music, play the guitar and “hope to touch kids lives” if I don’t really love them. Is ministry about me or them or God or, all of the above? And further, what gift is truly a gift without love?

On the three-hour drive from Seattle to Cashmere that evening, I kept hearing what my friend said. Not only was I hearing her words, but the lightness in her voice and the utter acceptance in her laughter. She wasn’t being pious or humble. She was genuinely grateful that she had the gift of love to offer her kids. It was somewhere between Snoqualmie Pass and Blewett Pass that I heard the words and melody, almost at the same time, to a song called, I Can Love.

Blessings...David

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The Twelve Days of "Firthmas" is obviously about things we ‘gave’ our poor parents throughout our childhoods. Let us explain as briefly as possible:

Day 1 – When Katie was 16 she was hit by a Burlington Northern on her way to work. The car was totaled – Katie (thank God) survived with only a broken nose and a lot of scratches.
Day 2 – This is obvious – there are 19 grandchildren and 6 great grandchildren (at this time!).
Day 3 – When Jim was two-ish, he picked up a can of Ajax and tipped it upside down over his face to see what was in it. The Ajax went up his nose and into his mouth and by the time he managed to pull himself out to my mom, he was blue. Scary!!!!
Day 4 – A year or so ago, Peter had a Bonneville he wanted to sell. My Dad offered to take it to his store (in Leavenworth) and park it in the lot with a ‘for sale’ sign on it. While driving the Bonneville from Tri Cities to Leavenworth, it caught fire and burned to the frame in a matter of minutes. My dad had time to get out, grab his cell phone and get far enough away to watch it burn.
Day 5 – Knowing my Dad means knowing we grew up with Buck Owens and Merle Haggard. “They’re Gonna Put Me in the Movies” (song by Buck Owens) was as common a phrase around our house as “what’s for dinner?”
Day 6 – When my brother Bob was young, our next-door neighbors collected silver dollars. Bob decided they wouldn’t miss one, or two, or ten. When the man at ‘the corner store’ started seeing him spend silver dollars regularly he suspected something was not right and called mom. Bob was busted! He repaid them by being their faithful weed-puller until the debt was repaid.
Day 7 - Well, there are seven of us.
Day 8 – My mom used to help clean our church (the beautiful Mission Santa Ynez) and Lauree would go with her. One such day, at the devotional candles, there was a quarter sticking out of the money slot. Lauree decided she would fish it out and then, maybe, go digging for more. She got caught: we always did.
Day 9 – We had A LOT of pets. Most met with their demise way too early.
Day 10-When we were little Bob was the constant joker. Steve saw how many laughs he got and wanted to tell a joke too. We gave him a chance; he was about four or five. The joke goes like this: ~~ Q. How high is a cot? A. Ten frogs squashing it. ~~ See…we didn’t get it either. And he has never lived it down.
Day 11- The Bovine Noggin Story…when we were little we lived in a neighborhood at the foot of a hill that intrigued us to no end. There was a creepy, burned out shack on the visible side…what was on the other side? Finally, one day when we were old enough and brave enough we journeyed to ‘the other side of the mountain’. What we found looked to us like ‘the valley of death’. We explored for what seemed like hours – and was probably only really 30 minutes – and ended with a most spectacular trophy…a cow skull. We decided to take it home and, in a dramatic presentation in which it was literally unveiled, present it proudly to our parents. They were so pleased.
Day 12 - "A re-mix minus DAROL" is a very long story which involves a long, lost 8th Firth Sib who showed up at the recording of The Firth Noel without warning. S/He is basically the combined personality traits of all seven Firth Sibs who, when without parents or spouces, regresses into the uninhibited spontaneous and most times annoying child who never grew up. (Guess which one of the Firth Sibs DAROL manifested himself through.)

Blessings...DAROL, I mean - David

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Many years ago, in the beginning stages of my life of parish ministry, I found myself "saving the world". When you look up "the Messiah complex"...you'll find a picture of me. I was working 14 hours a day at the church and traveling two or three times a week to do a concert or workshop. I also managed to squeeze in a few precious moments with my family. After a couple of years of that, I basically burned down (not "out") and began to make some very poor choices, the consequences of which still affects me and others to this day. What had begun as a life of faith, service, giving all in the name of Christ and the Church, became a life of hiding, confusion and chaos. I went from working 14 hours a day to walking in circles 14 hours a day and from traveling two or three times a week to maybe going out of my room. I was surrounded by darkness and "shadows" and felt very alone. Worst of all, I did not believe, could not believe God loved me.

After several months of this, a friend of mine who knew of my experiences invited me over. I reluctantly went and found as I arrived, she had set up a little belated birthday party...for me. The room was set up with balloons, streamers & banners. Lots of folks were there with smiles and support and gifts.

In the middle of one table, a beautiful 12" purple taper candle prominently stood as a symbol of the presence of Christ in the midst of the birthday gifts. The party was glorious as we talked and played party games and ate. When it came time to open the gifts, the "little boy excitement" kicked in and I clumsily knocked over the candle and it landed on wood floor, breaking the candle. As I picked it up, wax still dripping from it's unlit wick, I held the broken candle up to my friend and we both looked at this once beautifully lit symbol of the Presence of Christ, now cracked 3/4 of the way up and tipping on a 45 degree angle. I paused and in a mocking sort of motion, shook the candle from side to side displaying the wobbling end of the unlit candle, and said, “I’ve broken it.” I sighed, and explain... “Look at this. I broke it. It doesn't work. I am so sorry." I paused again... "This is how I am. I really feel like this candle. I don't know if I believe in God and I'm as dark as this useless piece of wax. I've broken absolutely everything. And I don't know what to do."

My friend listened and after a few moments of silence, picked up the book of matches on the table, lit the match and touched it to the dead wick on the end of the broken candle. The candle became illumines once more. She took the candle from my hand; held it up to my face and calmly said, "It works. It's working just fine." And while repeating my mocking display of the broken end of the candling, tipping it from side to side said, "The light may be coming from a different angle, but it's working just fine." She smiled, "David, you may be broken and feel like the light of God does not shine from you anymore, but it does. It's just coming from a different direction. But it has never gone out." And then with the most incredible love and compassion in her voice she said, "David, you may not believe in God. That's not what's really important. What is important to remember is that God believes in you...always has...does right now...and always will. God believes in you."

There are still days (weeks, months) I feel like the broken candle. I still find it difficult to remember what my friend said. Yet the truth still remains...God unconditionally, loving each of us, whispering through friends, family, "I Believe In You."

Blessings....David

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All six of my children are grown adults. They are wonderful people of whom I am very proud and profoundly grateful. But they didn’t use to be...
fully grown that is.

Kelli, who is a beautiful, multi-talented, actor, singer, composer and a joy to be with, was four or five months old at one point in her life. I remember that clearly because we spent many, many nights together, walking the halls, rocking in a chair and whatever else I could do to get her to sleep.

One very cold February, Kelli woke in the middle of the night and I was the one to check in on her. I went through the normal ritual of checking the diapers, taking her into her mom to be fed, etc. When none of the obvious needs were satisfied and she continued to cry, it was time to begin the long night together. Kelli loved to be rocked in a rocking chair and most times that would lull her back to sleep. When an hour of that didn’t do the trick that night, I began to walk her up and down the halls. As long as we were moving, she was quiet. But as soon as I tried to lay her down, she began to wail. The process continued literally for hours.

Kelli is the fourth of six children. And after spending similar nights in years past with three other children, my legs, back, neck and arms were getting pretty buff. But for some reason, that night with Kelli was physically draining. After two hours of walking, talking, rocking, bouncing, and whatever else I could come up with, she was not to be laid down. I was beginning to get tired and sore, and, very impatient.

At one point, I walked by the front window and noticed it had begun to snow. I was so exhausted by that time, that the thought of just throwing Kelli out in the snow passed through my mind. I was thinking I could get a few hours sleep, go out and get her and thaw her out before her mother knew. Of course I did not do that. But I was surprised that it even crossed my mind. I kept up the walk, changed another diaper and with that, after three and half hours, she was ready for sleep.

As I laid her down in her crib, that thought of throwing her out in the snow passed through my mind again. And I immediately responded with, “How could I even consider that? Kelli is so precious. She is so beautiful to me no matter what she does or in the case of sleeping; does not do.” I finally went back to bed.

That next morning as I sat with her on my lap, I felt my own pajamas beginning to get wet. It was time to change Kelli. And as I did, this wonderful image of God loving me, unconditionally settled deeply in my mind. I carried that thought with me all day and by the end of the day, Kelli’s song, You’re Beautiful To Me had been written. I don’t know if this next part is absolutely clear, but I kind of remember singing it to Kelli very, very late that same night.

Blessings....David

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It's very simple, actually. "Because I want to" covers most of it. But there is a story behind the decision.

I recently had the honor of doing a concert at the University of Portland campus sponsored by the Campus Ministries Office. The concert went very well. My daughter Kelli sang with me and she was amazing as usual. We had a little CD table set up in the entrance of the Chapel and sold a few. But there were several college students living on campus that came and left with no CD. I spoke with one young man for a good amount of time and he left empty handed. As he left the door I thought to myself, "Too bad he's a poor college student who couldn't afford the CDs; I really wanted him to have one." I usually just give them away when asked. But he never asked, perhaps not wanting to be embarrassed that he had no money. Or maybe he just didn't want one. I'll never know because I didn't just offer him one for free.

I really believe in my music and the messages that they each offer, the stories of faith, love, life, relationship, hope each one gives. While it's nice to make a few bucks selling CDs, I have in the past, do now and know in my heart that tomorrow I'd just prefer that people have them to listen to. Times are hard. Life can be very hard. I don't want someone to have to pay to hear a song of peace and unity and community. So, as I was packing up, I decided that I'm going to make my humble collection of CDs available to anyone who wants one regardless of means. Free is a good price. It's a very good price. But, I also have expenses that pay for the production and duplication of the CDs. And while that part of the process is not by any means huge, it is real. I needed to find some way to make both work. This is what I came up with.

I decided to reduce the price of CDs sold directly from the davidfirth.net website to $10.00 each or buy 2 and get a third free. I someone would rather go through CD Baby the cost is 12.00 each or downloading fees of .99 per song. Or one could attend a concert and just ask for one. The fourth option is always there and that is you can email me and say I'd like to have a CD for free and it shall be sent to you with joy.

I realize it costs money to make the CDs and if I run out and have no cash to restock, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Till then, please help yourself to my music which I deeply hope will find it's way to your heart.

Blessings....David

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This is a story about the transforming power of Love.

My wife, Linda, is a very gifted person. One of her many gifts is writing. She's an excellent writer. And while her very busy schedule does not allow for much time for her to pursue this passion, it is still very much alive.

Early on in our marriage, Linda wrote a descriptive peice laying out all of the goodness she finds in me. When I first read it, I thought she had to be thinking about someone else. But after reading is a few more times, I realized that what she is seeing is who I am becuase of the deep love she has for me. I couldn't believe anyone but perhaps God could find so much goodness. But it made sense in the light of how transforming her love for me truly was. What she sees is all of the goodness I could never see but was there nontheless, waiting to be awakened and called into life. And so, after reading it over a fifth and sixth time, I started to believe...I believed that I am who she sees because of the affect her love has on my life.

"And when you tell me what you see, I believe that it's all true; for who you see is someone being loved by you."

I share this story with you because I believe we all have the ability and power to be transformative in the lives of others. One not need to be married to another to love so completely that the other is transformed into new life. And too, each of us needs to be open to the possibility that someone finds unlimited goodness and can call that goodness forth. We must believe we can love unconditionally and be loved unconditionally. It is a gift we all share if we're willing to give it and live it. I pray each of you has that person in your life who can awaken your true self and, that you have the opportunity to love someone...anyone into new life.

Blessings....David

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This story is a hard one to tell but hopeful at the same time.

In 1997, I was diognoised with BiPolar Disorder (manic/depression). There is no cure for BiPolar Disorder and only therapy and medications can deal with symptoms. Needless to say, it is not easy living with BiPolar because during a manic (mania) phase, poor judgement rules the day. During a depressive phase, un-relenting despair and thoughts of death are ever present. Over the years, I have had the opportunity to work with some fine doctors and therapists and they have tried to find the right mix of mood stabilizers and anti-depressants. Some worked for awhile, most did not.

In February of this year (2008) I had what is called a dysforic episode; basicially both mania and depression battle it out in my brain. The result was several days of making suicide plans and being very ready to carry them out. Fortunately, my beautiful wife, Linda is unconditionally loving and a good pychologist and I shared my plans with her. She immediately got me to a hospital were it was decided that I check into an outpatient treatment center for three weeks. It was during that time that I was given new meds which make me very sleepy each night. One of those nights, while waiting to fall asleep, a mantra began to join my breathing..."I want to live. I want to love." I said it over and over til I fell asleep. For the next several days, that mantra went with me where I went and, one afternoon, it began the process of writing itself into a song. I listened carefully and found great hope in singing it, even in times of deep despair. The song has become a theme song for me and is currently in the productions phases to be recorded sometime this winter or next spring.

I am not ashame of nor am I afraid to be living with BiPolar Disorder and for those who share it with me or those who live with someone with it, please become very educated on the disorder, symptoms and options to treat it. There is a lot out there. I've posted a link on the right panel of the websit listed "BiPolar Disorder" which will take you to NIMH - The National Institute of Mental Health. There you can begin your education.

I am grateful to have a place to share this story and soon the song and I hope that in your life, should you know of or live with someone with Bipolar Disorder you can live out the compassionate heart God lives in you and bring hope, understanding, options and companionship.

Blessings....David

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Inspiration can come from a thousand different places or people. My children have always been a prime source of inspiration for me. Olivia Steiber Firth (Ola) is one such person of inspiration for a very important reason.

Olivia is a seventh grade English/Lit teacher in a school in Eugene, OR. She's going on close to ten years now in the same school. And she loves it. Not only teaching, but seventh graders (if you can believe that). Early in her career, we had several long talks about how frustrating it was to teach seventh graders because there was very little insight as to whether or not she was making any difference. Parents are always an issue and in this school, some of the kids come from some very rough homes. She was always concerned about making a difference in their lives but knew it was out of her control. How then, does one give everything she has, day after day and not know if it makes any difference or not??

"Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change." She would live by that prayer as it was the only way to get through some difficult classes, students and/or parents. But live through them she does and with grace and dignity. He love of teaching and the students has been an inspiration to me who is someone who needs immediate (if not sooner) gratification from what I'm doing. I don't think I have the patience or love to let things go into God's hands as she does.

The next part of that prayer goes, "and Lord, empower me with the courage to change all that I can." This is a very strong point with Olivia for she is one that goes head on with conflict to change when she knows the door is open to her. She lives that prayer and that attitude more than anyone I know and I am grateful to be watching someone with such strength and charactor live a life of unconditional love.

She is the inspiration to "A Sign of Your Peace" and one who lives that prayer as if she had originally prayed it herself. Thank you Olivia. I love you, Olivia.

Blessings, Dad

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Center Field really is a true story.

Between 1998 and 2000, I was the music director for Holy Trinity Parish in Beaverton. It is a very large parish with a long tradition of good liturgical music and directors. I'd like to think I continued in that line. One of my duties was to direct the 9:30am Choir which consisted of three guitars, bass, piano, organ, 3-5 flutes and 40 voices. It was a lot of work but a lot of fun none the less. The pianist' name was Linda Carr. She was a very shy but gifted pianist who quickly learned how to take impulsive directions from her director. She would have preferred to do all the music as written, but I was know for adding an extra refrain or measure or two or even change keys if I didn't like the original. We worked well together and she was by far, my right hand.

Over the course of those two years, we worked many funerals and weddings which gave us the opportunity to get to know each other closely. I was secretly falling in love with her by the day. She was beautiful, intelligent, creative and very gifted. But she was married, so we sayed good friends. One of Linda's many side jobs was as a piano teacher. She had built a roster of up to 40 students a month over time (and still teaches today). Sometimes, when the church was open in the afternoon and school was letting out, I would find her in the church teaching a kid. It was always a delight to sit in the back of the church and watch her at work because she was a very good teacher.

In 1999, however, she and her husband divorced. It was a sad experience to witness but she went through it all with class and dignity. I know it was difficult for her, but she never missed a beat, kept up her teaching and choir roles and grew as a person each day.

One of my life long passions is baseball. I've played pretty much all of my life. When I met Linda, I was in an 18 - 30 hard ball league in the summer (always batted with wood) and played center field. One afternoon in the fall, I was getting ready to go home and happen to hear someone playing piano in the church. As my glove and bat were always close by, I went into the church to find Linda playing some Christmas Carols, preparing for the season. We chatted a bit...and then, "like a school boy asked her if she wanted to go outside to play some catch." She had never done that before and, on top of it all, she was a Lefty. We did get out into the beautiful fall afternoon. I gave her my glove which she put on backwards and I taught her how to throw a hard ball and catch. We spent many afternoons doing that and she started to get pretty good...so much so that I surprised her one afternoon with a gift wrapped, Lefty's glove, sitting on home plate on the ball field behind the church. To this day, I can remember the joy in her eyes when openning that gift. She tried on the glove and it fit perfectly, just in time for another game of catch. Since I taught her how to throw and catch, and since I didn't know how to play the piano, after a game of catch, we'd go inside the church and she's teach me some "chords and scales and a little bit of Bach and the value of discipline."

The happy ending(or perhaps beginning)of the story is that she proposed to me about a year and a half later and on August 7th, 2003...we were married. "Oh, the ball player and the piano teacher each came from a different place; her from the cold notes on the score and him always rounding first base. And she catch his heart through music and he caught hers with his glove...and they both taught eachother a new way to play; in the Center Field of Love.

I love thee, MyLefty David

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Center Field

author: CB

Center Field is the most enjoyable collection of original songs I have listened to in many years. I have each of David Firth's other CDs and must say I like his departure from presenting primarily Christian messages is very refreshing. It sounds and feels genuine, deeply sincere and passionate, especially about his children (Calls Me Dad and Good Morning Olivia). The love songs are touching and poetic and the ballads and story songs (Center Field, 'Cept You, Lefty's Lullaby) are visual and very catchy. I am particularly impressed with the voices of Kelli Firth (Change), Emily Firth (Share It With Me) and Nick Firth (Evidence of Love)..three up and coming artists that I hope to hear much more from in the very near future. I have to say, two of my favorites (among many) are The Faith Cafe and The Body of Love. There is something so uplifting and hopeful about both of those songs.

Well done, David. Please continue on the musical path you are on right now and please let us all know when your next CD is available.

CB

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Center Field

author: KE

The songs I liked the most, which is not to say that I didn't like the others...were:

1)Goodmorning Olivia- The feel of the song is totally modern but very you at the same time. Like I had jokingly said on the phone it's very "David 2008". It's a brilliant cover of your own original song. I especially like the quietness of you and the new guitar arrangment. It's very intimate and special.

2)Living in Your Eyes- I just all around like this song!! It's beautiful, lyrically, I really like how it begins softly and then picks up speed.

3)Calls Me Dad- This one has sort of snuck up on me. Not that I didn't like it before, I just never realized how much I liked it until I listened to it again. Like "Living in Your Eyes" I think it is lyrically beautiful. In both songs its just a great combination of melody and lyric.

4)Faith Cafe- It's just a fun song. The more I listen the more I find it fun and energizing. You're voice gets a little bit drowned out though, but you said you took care of more mixing a little while ago, so perhaps that is fixed. This is a song that really works with all the instruments, because it has that feel. It's like a big party, and you really capture that with the instrumentation.

5)Evidence of Love- I have always loved this song, and with you and Nick singing together it really makes it extra beautiful.

6)Centerfield - it's just a feel good song. I like how you've blended both worlds of baseball and piano into it.

7) Lefty's Lullabye - Beautiful

Of course I would recommend this CD to others. I have recommended your music in the past and I alway will. To me it is art, and I believe anyone who truly appreciates music will see that. I also think it's a very family oriented CD. There are a lot of fun and upbeat pieces, and then there are some slower, more lilting pieces. Yet, none of them are really crazy heavy...you know? This new CD has more light in it. So anyone that's in a good mood and wants to stay there would love this CD!!

KE

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Take Me To The High Places is the only song I've written by request.

About 25 years ago (has it been that long), a young couple by the name of Dan and Joan Fischer asked me to write a song for their wedding. At the time, I was reading a wonderful book called "Hinds Feet On High Places" by Hannah Hurnard. The story centers around a young woman named, "Much-Afraid" who lived in the Valley of Humiliation with her Fear Family. "Much-Afraid" was a broken child, crippled and facially deformed, she longed to travel to the High Places to be with the Great Shepherd and be healed.

Her journey is a long a difficult one, not only because of her broken-ness but because the journey was steep, rocky and dangerous. But in the end, she joined the Great Sheherd in the High Places and was transformed into "Grace & Glory".

As I read this, and, in light of the fact I was asked to write a song for a wedding, I saw "Much-Afraid" as two people; one who was crippled and the other who was facially deformed. Together, they made the journey to the High Places, each drawing upon their strengths to help the other when the road was hard and dangerous. Together they reached the High Places and live as one with the Great Shepherd; one as Grace and Glory, one in love, one in peace.

Blessings,

David

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"Slow Down" has a very funny story that I love to tell. But it packs a very good message.

When I was the Youth Minister for Holy Family Parish in Yakima, WA, I was working 70 hours a week and rarely got home to spend time with my family. (Another story). One afternoon, however, I went home about 4:00pm and happen to catch two of my children; Patrick 6 and Kelli 4 watching their favorite program, "HE-MAN". They were clued to the screen and sat very still, absorbing every detail of the show which was an animated program. Once the show was over, Patrick turned off the TV and went into the back bedroom. Kelli was dressed in her Wonder Woman (Tela-a charactor in the program) outfit and she moved into the kitchen. Once both were in their proper places, Kelli called out from the kitchen, "HE-MAN save me. Come quickly" From the back bedroom, I heard a rumbling sound begin and before I new it, Patrick had wisked by me in his HE-MAN outfit. It took me by surprise because the kids all knew they were not to be running in the house. Once Patrick reached the kitchen, there was more rumbling sounds and Kelli saying, "Oh thank you HE-MAN for saving me." Silence.

Kelli then walked through the dining room and into the living room where I was, paused and asked,"Daddy, do you want to play HE-MAN with us?" "No thanks" I replied and she continued on into the back bedrooms. Once again Kelli cried out, "HE-MAN save me. Come quickly." And once again, Patrick dashed through the room past me. I tried in vain to get out a "you're not suppose to be running..." but it didn't stop him. Once again, more rumbling. Once again, Kelli sighed, "Oh thank you HE-MAN for saving me." A second time, Kelli crossed through the rooms and stopped in front of me asking, "Are you sure you don't want to play HE-MAN with us Daddy? We really need a Skelator (bad guy in the show)." "No thank you," I replied and she continued on her journey to the kitchen. Once again, rumbling from the bedroom. This time, I decided to step into his path and catch him like a baseball wizzing through the room. Sure enough, he came out the bedroom and was heading directly toward me when suddenly, two year old Emily came rambling out of the bathroom with a tube of toothpaste in her hand. Patrick ran into her, crashing her to the floor. He paused (barely) and before continuing on said, "Sorry". Fortunately, before he took off to save Kelli, I was able to grab him by the back of his under-roos and pull him back toward me.

"Look what you've done," I said sternly. "You know there's not to be any running in the house. How could this happen?" Patrick paused, shrugged his shoulders and said, "she got in my way?" From that point on I went into a lecture about why we don't allow running in the house for this very reason. All the while, poor Emily still laid there on the floor with the tube of tooth paste...and neither one of us actually stopped arguing to help her out.

I thought about the whole experience for a couple of days and I came to the conclusion that I was very much like Patrick. As a youth minister for a very large parish, I felt as though I was running from one place or person to the other with the intention of "saving" them (that was my job.) All the while there were people in my life, relationships that were being run over by my haste and zeal. I really believe God does not want us to "save" anyone nor is it God's intention that we are moving non-stop throughout our days and missing the beauty, wonder and love that we are trampling on. The song, "Slow Down" came in a moment of doing just that. It felt good to finish it and look back on my own life in the light of the song and decided to make some perminent changes...slow down.

Blessings,

David

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The story behind I Am Before You is a rather long and some what embarrassing one but, one definately worth telling.

For many years I was a Youth Minister at a parish. This particular parish was very large and my responsibilities were many; so much so that I needed a lot of help just to stay organized. Volunteers were few when I was just starting out but there was one young lady who was very regular about showing up and I could always count on her when the work load became very heavy.

One afternoon she called me from home saying that she was going to be late. I volunteered to come to her home and pick her up and she said ok. So I did. I arrived at a very large farm looking house around 4:30pm and walked the steps to the front door which was wide open with a screen door closed in it's place. I knocked on the screen door a couple of times but there was no answer. As I stood looking in this vast and beautiful home my view was focused on a hallway of doors that was directly in front of me. Suddenly, my little volunteer's mother came from one door across the hall to another door...absolutely naked; well, she was carrying a towel in her hand. I pin-wheeled to my left away from the screen door in utter shock and was afraid to move back in front of the screen door. I reached a hand over to the door from my new position and my little volunteer poked her head out the door and said, "oh, you're here. I'm ready to go." "So am I!" I said with a gasp and we made our way to the car.

That scene, seeing the mom naked was seared in my brain for the next two weeks. I felt deeply emabarrased, wondered if the mom saw me, wondered if she was horrified. My plan was to avoid meeting up with the mom for fear of not knowing how I would respond. I was making way too big of a deal about that situation, so much so that one evening I was shopping at the store and was almost done when I saw the mom at the far end of an isle. I paniced at the thought of possibly running into her so I left the cart full of groceries and ran out the store.

Two weeks later I was scheduled to do a concert in a city about 3 hours away. As was my routine, I waited til the last minute, grabbed a few concert clothes and put them in a Safeway grocery bag and took off. When I arrived at the sight, I was met by a very nice nun who seemed a little worry saying, "Oh I'm so glad you're here. We're just about to start. Are you ready." I said, "I just need to change clothes and I'm ready to go." "Oh, you can change in one of the classrooms done the hall." said the kindly sister and away I went. I got into the classroom, through off my shoe and shirt, dropped my pants when all of the sudden, the door opened and the nun peaked her head into the room and said, "Oh, well...hello." "Hi," I said back with my pants around my ankles and she left. Waves of embarrassment flooded my mind. I've never had a nun see me in my underwear before. I started sweating, was shakey all over and didn't want to leave the room. I did however and I noticed I was carrying my guitar in front of me as if to cover myself.

It turns out that this same sister was going to introduce me that night. I stood directly behind her as she spoke saying, "Our guest tonight is David Firth, a well know Christian singer in the Pacific NW. I have to admit I've never hear or seen him before but what I have seen, I really like." She then turned and gave me a little wink. I turned white with humiliation and began to sweat all over again. The entire concert was a blurr as I just couldn't get the whole situation out of my head.

When the concert was over, I was putting my guitar in the case rather hurriedly just wanting to get out of there and the winking nun approached me. She paused and then said, "I hope I didn't embarrass you, David." "Well, actually you did, sister." I replied rather abrutly. And then she said, "Please try not to be embarrassed. I believe God wants us to see and accept eachother's nakedness." "Yeah, right." I shot back. "Someday you'll understand what I mean," she said and spun around and left.

The drive home was long and uncomfortable. "What did she mean...'see eachother's nakedness'?" I kept asking myself. And then scene's of the mom shot through my head again and I was cringing at the thought. And then it hit me. The winking sister was not talking about physical nakedness, she was talking about our spiritual and emotional lives; being vulernable to eachother, being unconditionally genuine. No masks, no pretenses...naked; as God sees us and accepts us. Only in baring my real self to God and to others do I have the chance to be true known and accepted.

"I am before you, naked, Lord. From you there is no where to hide. Your open arms are enough for me. I'll live un-afraid in the light."

Blessings,

David

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[In this song there is conversation before and after the song that depicts typical Firth confusion. For the most part you’ll just have to pick out bits and pieces of the conversation. You will find you hear more each time. During the second chorus, we decided to put in a little of our own personalities and so, one at a time, we each stepped up to the mic to do our ‘own thing’. It is all recognizable English except the first line; that phrase is Lauree, scratching her throat. It is a rather unfortunate trademark of hers. The fact that we crash at the end of the song is just more ‘warped’ Firth humor.]

Just hear those sleigh bells jingle-ing Ring ting tingle-ing too. Come on, it's lovely weather For a sleigh ride together with you.

Outside the snow is falling And friends are calling "You Hoo". Come on, it's lovely weather For a sleigh ride together with you.

Giddy-yap giddy-yap giddy-yap let's go Let's look at the snow We're riding in a wonderland of snow. Giddy-yap giddy-yap giddy-yap it's grand Just holding your hand. We're gliding along with the song of a wintry fairy land.

Our cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy cozy are we We're snuggled up together like two birds of a feather would be Let's take the road before us and sing a chorus or two Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you.
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The Angel Gabriel from heaven came His wings as drifted snow, his eyes as flame; "All hail" said he thou lowly Maiden Mary Most highly favour’d lady, Gloria!

For known a blessed mother thou shalt be All generations laud and honor thee Thy son shall be Emmanuel by seers foretold Most highly favour’d lady, Gloria!

Then gentle Mary meekly bowed her head "To me, be as it pleaseth God" she said "My soul shall laud and magnify His holy Name" Most highly favour’d lady, Gloria!

Of her Emmanuel the Christ was born In Bethlehem all on a Christmas morn, And Christian folk through out the world will ever say, Most highly favour’d lady, Gloria!
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by Blane Martin

Have yourself a merry little Christmas, Let your heart be light From now on, our troubles will be out of sight.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas, Make the Yule-tide gay, From now on, our troubles will be miles away.

Here were are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore. Faithful friends who are dear to us gather near to us once more.

Through the years we all will be together If the Fates allow Hang a shining star upon the highest bough. And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.
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by Jim Firth

Who is this Newborn King? Humble in nature, lying in a manger. No royal robe or stature has he. Who, but a servant, would be so made low? Yet, here is a King who is so. What a wondrous work this is: this one who is lowly, is one full of glory. His is a kingdom of righteousness and truth. He’s crowned with humility, His scepter is of love No other is above or shall ever be above Him.

(Re)
Praise be to God, for a Child is born. He’s the hope of every heart, the joy of every soul. Praise be to God.

All my praise I humbly give, knowing that surely of much more He’s worthy. For what He gives is most valuable of all. What can compare to the gift of life he brings? Give glory to the King, God’s everlasting King.
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As a very young man, I was a Youth Minister in the Catholic Church. I volunteered at St. Francis Xavier Parish in Cashmere, Washington for about 5 years and then was hired by St. Rita Parish in Portland, Oregon as a full time staff member. During the five years of voluntary work for the Church, I held a full time job as a candy factory worker. The job at the factory was very monotonous, boring and un-fulfilling but was a job non-the less. My work with the youth of the parish however, was exciting, creative, personal and vastly fulfilling. In the factory, I felt like I had no more significance than one of the wooden paddles used to mix the candy in the vast copper kettles. If one were to break, you’d just get another. As a youth minister though, I felt like I was doing something very special. I felt I was being called by God; hand selected as it were to do his bidding, share His Gospel and guide His People to His Heart.

It was during those five years of volunteer ministry that I also began to write songs. In fact I learned to play the guitar at the age of 20 because I had a song in my head that needed accompaniment. This new experience of hearing original songs in my head, learning the guitar and then playing and singing my songs for the youth group was exulting. And then one day, at a weekend youth retreat, the retreat leader asked me to give a talk about friendship and I ended the talk by singing, “You Are My Friends”. From that point on, I found myself being invited to various parishes, retreats, church functions, etc., just to play my songs. I felt pretty special and increasingly “important.”
“God had given me this gift of music and I was using that gift to minister to His people”, I thought to myself, especially during the long, boring hours at the candy factory when I felt un-noticed and expendable.

And then, one Saturday I attended a workshop with other Youth Ministers from many denominations in a big convention room in Seattle, Washington. It just so happened that a friend of mine from another city was in attendance and we decided to share the day together.

The workshop was a training session in communication skills. After a brief introduction of the main speaker, he asked that the entire room break up into groups of 10 – 12 and form tight circles. My friend and I decided to be in the same “small group” and once done, we awaited further instructions. The main speaker then asked that we introduce ourselves to the others in the group and include one talent or gift that each person thought they used most effectively in ministry. I remember everyone giving a huge sigh as if to say “do we have to?” but, I also remember thinking I was looking forward to talking about my gift of music. The sharing began and each person described what gift they used in ministry: story telling, arts and crafts, drama, organization, and others who used music. I was the only one who actually wrote my own songs, so when it was my turn to share, I took on a humble but grateful posture and tone of voice and elaborated on how my gift of song writing “hopefully touched kids lives”.

My friend was the last to speak in the group. I remember she took a deep breath and then, before speaking, burst into a chorus – like belly laugh that concluded with, “Oh my God, I have none of those gifts. I can’t sing, I can’t dance, I don’t draw, I can’t act.” And then she paused, took another deep breath and said, “I guess I don’t have any gifts. The only gift I have is to love the kids. I can be with them, laugh with them, cry with them...just love them. It’s all I’ve got.”

It is, to this day, difficult for me to describe what those words, at that time meant for me to hear. It was for me a critical wake up call, the ultimate gut check. So what if I can write music, play the guitar and “hope to touch kids lives” if I don’t really love them. Is ministry about me or them or God or, all of the above? And further, what gift is truly a gift without love?

On the three-hour drive from Seattle to Cashmere that evening, I kept hearing what my friend said. Not only was I hearing her words, but the lightness in her voice and the utter acceptance in her laughter. She wasn’t being pious or humble. She was genuinely grateful that she had the gift of love to offer her kids. It was somewhere between Snoqualmie Pass and Blewett Pass that I heard the words and melody, almost at the same time, to a song called, I Can Love.

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