The most beautiful voice ever heard on this planet has been silenced. And it happened long before Whitney Houston’s tragic death. Anyone who heard her in recent years, anyone who saw her in recent days, knows. She was a shell of her former self. I feel like I’ve seen this movie before. Young talent rises to fame, makes a huge impact on the world, peaks, makes bad choices, fails to maintain an expected level of success, begins to decline, public turns on them, famous person turns on themselves. Death.

Here’s the truth: we don’t know them. We didn’t know her.

Oh, we feel like we do. We watched Whitney grow up. We saw her on MTV and at the movies. We heard her on the radio. We saw this stunningly gorgeous women grace magazine covers. We watched as she wowed the world with a rendition of the National Anthem so stirring that it hit the pop charts. But we didn’t know her and frankly, we don’t really know anyone but ourselves. Worse than that, we fail to understand the power of the enemy that sought her destruction—the same enemy that seeks our own.

At the funeral service held inside the New Jersey church where Whitney perfected her voice, her friend and co-star of the film, The Bodyguard, Kevin Costner took the podium. In a moving tribute, he revealed that Whitney Houston didn’t always feel like a superstar; that she didn’t always feel good enough, pretty enough, or talented enough. He said that if he could talk to her now, he would tell her that as she’s being escorted by an army of angels to sing before God, not to worry. That she’ll be good enough. And he had a message for the rest of us: guard the precious miracle of your own life.

No, we didn’t know her and we shouldn’t judge her. We can, however, ask ourselves some tough questions:

What do we believe in?
Who are we listening to?
Can we ask God to bless all that we do?
Do we crack the door open to the enemy just a little bit?

Despite the evidence of what he is capable of, are we willing to bet that he won’t silence our voice the way he silenced hers?

I am fascinated by perceptions; how they are formed, how they change, and how off the mark they usually are. This guy is probably great at tuning up a Harley, but he’s likely not very smart, right? That is, until you discover that he’s a heart surgeon.

Perceptions can drive us to do things we never had to do, say things we never had to say, even feel things we never had to feel. Think about that. If I perceive that you’re angry with me, I’d feel horrible. I might act nervous around you. I might do something stupid like send you a harsh email or angrily confront you. Suddenly, I find that you were never angry at me at all. In fact, you were just having a bad day or something. What a waste of stress!

One summer, I was sitting around the campfire with my friend, Fred. We were reminiscing about our younger days and I said to him, “God, I was so jealous of you after high school when you went to the University of Michigan.” (I began my career in radio right after graduation rather than going away to school). “There you were in Ann Arbor,” I continued, “The big man on campus, having fun, making friends, going to parties, and there I was in a stupid little radio station making crappy money.” He laughed and replied, “That’s funny. I was at school, overwhelmed, under pressure, not really knowing what I wanted to do with my life. I was jealous of you because you were already pursuing your dream.”

Sometimes our perceptions have nothing to do with reality.

We should be more careful. We should examine our perceptions and leave the door open to the possibility that they are totally off.

I’m friends with a beautiful woman. Not just pretty…pageant pretty. After a few months of working with her, I formed the perception that any girl would kill to be her. Any man would kill to be with her. I envied her beauty and wondered what that must be like. I would have bet the house that her life was amazing. Not long after, I found that behind that killer smile there was heartache. She struggled with her body image. She often over ate and then starved herself. Her husband wasn’t a good man and he cheated on her. When she found out, she went through a divorce. For a long time she felt ugly and alone. Flawless, it turns out, isn’t always flawless.

I’m not sure what the answer is, but I suspect that if we see each other, really see each other, it could make all the difference.

This guy I know is doing something really cool. He’s calling it “100 Cups in 100 days.” In the course of 100 days, he’s going to sit down for a cup of coffee with 100 different people. He is inviting friends, acquaintances, even strangers to share their stories, their struggles, even their pain. He wants to learn from their experiences. He wants to help or encourage. He wants to go beyond perceptions. I’m accepting his invitation, although if I drink coffee I’ll throw up.

Whether it’s something as drastic as 100 meetings or one simple phone call, maybe it’s time we work harder to connect. Perceptions are formed quickly based on very little knowledge. Reality takes time to discover. Isn’t it time?

Maybe your doctor rides a Harley on the weekends. And maybe he can save your life.

100 Cups in 100 Days http://kennysilva.net/100-cups-in-100-days/

My wife and I were having breakfast with an old friend in our hometown recently. We hadn’t seen Todd in a long time—too long. As we were catching up he asked, “You guys aren’t perfect right? Because no one is….but just reading your Facebook posts, you sure seem to have fun with life. You sure seem healthy and happy. It’s really inspiring.” It was a nice compliment. And it got me thinking about that fine line. You know the one—the line between what is real and what is not.

“Sunday morning we dress up, spray up, and get all made up, but we’re not always on the up and up.” ~ Allen Jackson

I love Facebook for making people laugh, talking sports, music, movies, and TV shows. I like to share exciting or fun things going on at home or with my work. I try not to be negative. It’s just a choice and I’m glad my friend noticed. What I don’t want, however, is to suggest that everything is blemish-free.

What I don’t want is to deny that life is hard, that it often comes with huge disappointments, setbacks, heartache, and personal failures. I’m not interested in putting on a facade. Life is better when it’s real.

The most exhausting thing you can do is to be inauthentic.
~ Anne Morrow Lindberg

Perhaps this goes back to my last blog and the importance of seeing one another, really seeing one another. I don’t think we can help each other or be helped ourselves unless we’re honest about what we face. Some of us are almost paralyzed by fear. Some suffer from depression. There is financial worry, job loss, loneliness, and broken relationships. Real stuff. Real hurt.

I got a note totally out of the blue one day from an old friend. In it, she described her recent battle with alcoholism. This note caught me off guard. I was scared for her. I thought of her family and everything in her life that was threatened if she doesn’t win this battle. Once I got over the shock, I re-read her note and it occurred to me that although she didn’t have to, she was being real. And by being real about a serious problem in her life, she was well on the way to recovery. Not only that, but while drinking was a failure, confronting it and admitting it was heroic.

When the time is right, be real with someone. Offer yourself up for them to be real with you. See each other, really.

There’s nothing wrong with getting dressed up, sprayed up and made up, as long as we remain on the up and up.

A woman in her late forties once confided in me, “The hardest thing about getting older,” she said. “Is that no one notices me anymore.” We talked about it for a few minutes. This really bothered her. When she was younger, people stopped in their tracks as she walked by. Heads turned and she knew it. She felt pretty. She felt alive. “Now,” she said, nervously laughing. “I’m just another face in the crowd.” This women’s biggest fear was that she had faded into the colors of life’s backdrop. Just another lady. Nothing special here.

I don’t think her fear is unique. Young or old, attractive or not, don’t we all just want to be seen? Don’t we all just want to be heard? I think most of our problems can be traced to the fact that we don’t see each other—I mean really see each other.

In some cases, the results are tragic.

14-year old Middle-Tennessee boy Phillip Parker wasn’t seen. Oh, his classmates knew who he was. They saw him at school every day. But they never really saw him. Too many regarded him as “the gay boy.” He was teased, taunted, and tormented. Despite his incredible smile and outgoing personality, Phillip faded into the colors of life’s backdrop. He told his grandmother that it felt like he had a rock on his chest and he couldn’t breathe. Last week, Phillip took his own life. He left a note for his mother that read: “Please help me Mom.” Absolutely heartbreaking.

Imagine how much richer our lives could be if we weren’t so busy building canyons between ourselves. There’s no telling what Phillip may have grown up to do. There’s no telling how many lives he would have touched. Instead, there is only pain. The Parker’s have to bury their boy. And those who didn’t see him will probably look the other way.

I am so tired of people getting inflamed and digging moats around their beliefs. Let’s talk, share, relate.
~ Bob Kodzis

I am embarrassed at the thought of all the people I have come into contact with and never really saw. How much could they have enriched my life? How much could I have enriched theirs?

Moving forward, there is a better way. Let’s slip into the shoes of a women who feels invisible. Let’s try on the clothes of a boy who feels there is no place for him here. Let’s leave the insane, entrenched positions to the politicians and try harder to hear each other. Let’s open our eyes and see each other—I mean really see each other.

You never know. In the end, the life we save may be our own.

Some DVDs have an option that makes me crazy. Alternate Endings, Don’t like a movie’s conclusion? Just make a different selection in the main menu. This is ridiculous. A story should stand on its own merits. A film should confidently declare, “This is what I am. Don’t like it? Don’t watch.”

Your life? Your life is different. After all, you are a work in progress. Your life is a book you write each day and it can be changed as often as the author likes. And the author is you.

Changing direction in life is not tragic. Losing passion in life is.
~ Max Lucado

Several people I care about are, for one reason or another, changing their stories this year. They’re seeking their “alternate ending.” I can see that this is not easy. If I can’t feel their pain, I can at least understand their fear. One begins the year vowing to stay sober. Another is dealing with a failed marriage. Still another is going back to college at 45 years old. Each one has something in common; doubt. Do I have what it takes? How did this happen to me? How do I forgive myself? Does anyone care?

“Your life is a do-over. You’ve got a clean slate.” says Billy Crystal in the film, City Slickers. I would add, “Why is that something to be ashamed of?” Human history is filled with people who rewrote their stories. Is there a better example than George Dawson? Born in 1898, George was the grandson and great-grandson of African-American slaves. One of his early childhood memories was watching the lynching of a black teenager accused of sleeping with a white girl. At the age of 98, George decided he wanted to learn to read. Not only did he learn, he went on to study for his GED at age 103. His life story, Life Is So Good, was published in 2000. Talk about rewriting your story!

Do you have what it takes? Yes.

How did this happen to you? Lots of reasons. Who cares?

How do you forgive yourself? Time and doing good for others.

Does anyone care? More people than you know. We’re not real good at expressing it until people are gone.

Your life is a gift. The reason you’re reading this is that you’re still here and the purpose of your gift has not yet been fulfilled. The addiction is behind you. The marriage produced beautiful children and taught you much about love. A new career as you near 50? Sure, why the hell not? Someday, you and God will talk about story. He’ll tell you that He gave you a book with blank pages in it. You’ll tell Him how you filled them. You’ll tell Him it was hard and that you messed up a lot. You’ll admit that you had to start over several times. And you know what He’ll say? “Good, now come on…I have stuff to show you.”

Get busy writing. Your new beginning is really just an alternate ending. Find yours.