Farewell Cinderella: A Father's Love for His Daughter

Oh I will dance with Cinderella
I don't want to miss even one song
'cause all too soon the clock
will strike midnight
and she'll be gone

About a year ago we got a call from a local Nashville music agent. He wanted to tell us about a new song written by Steven Curtis Chapman called Cinderella and to discuss the idea of a gift book by that same name. We absolutely loved the song and the concept and last January released Cinderella: The Love of a Daddy and His Princess to coincide with the radio release of the song.

I had the air knocked out of me on the way to work this morning when I received a call with the news that Steven's youngest daughter, Maria, was killed in a tragic accident last night.

It's been hard not to be tearful today -- and I haven't succeeded. First of all I'm a father and I can't begin to imagine the heartache Steven and his family are experiencing right now. As a publisher, I know he poured his heart into the words of the song and the pages of the book. A major inspiration for the lyrics was Steven and his wife Mary Beth's profound love for their children -- and all children. They founded Shaohannah's Hope, a foundation that assists families hoping to adopt with information and financial grants -- and named after the first daughter they brought into their family from China. Maria, the youngest, was also adopted from China and her beautiful smiling face sparkles throughout the book.

The name of Steven's latest album is This Moment ... and at a moment like this, I wish I had words of wisdom. There simply are none. St. Paul said that the only things that endure are faith, hope, and love, and never is that more evident than in a moment like this. Our deepest prayers and love are with the Chapmans.

Farewell Cinderella.

A Mother's Gift

I've never been a big Elvis fan. I was a teen in the 70s when Elvis was heavy, wore white jump suits with tassels, and was a Vegas act. He did have a couple hits in the 70s, like Kentucky Rain, which I kind of liked, but then again, so did Paul Anka and Sammy Davis, Jr. (I actually hated Candy Man.)

I received a manuscript a couple weeks ago from a music entertainment author who I represented in my agenting days. He wrote a memoir with Lamar Fike, one of the "Memphis Mafia" members who made up Elvis's lifelong entourage. Lamar was a fixture in the Presley household long before Elvis became a one-named superstar. He was present at many crucial moments in Elvis's life, including the death of his mother. I did a sneak peek at the manuscript and the following short passage jumped out at me, though it may be common knowledge to Presley aficionados --

After Gladys died in 1958, I found that Elvis had lost his moral compass, and for that matter Vernon did too. Whatever sense of innocence that the Presley household had while Gladys was alive, was suddenly tossed out the window. Suddenly Vernon was able to break up a married woman’s happy home, and Elvis was free to sexually cavort with a far-from-innocent underage girl named Priscilla Beaulieu.

Our thoughts on Mother's Day tend to turn sentimental as we remember the sweet things about motherhood. Fike's words are a nice reminder that one of the greatest blessings a mom can bestow on her children is a moral compass, not always a sweet and easy business. For me, it's not that I always followed that compass during my teen years and other moments in my life, but growing up with prayer and countless readings through a battered blue edition of Egermeier's Bible Story Book, I was never able to forget that a compass pointing to matters that mattered was there.

So if there were a few things you didn't get to do because your mom said no and maybe went so far as to put you on a guilt trip, say thanks anyway, from the bottom of your heart. And whether you're a mom or dad with kids in the home, even if it'd be more fun to just be popular and let them figure out everything on their own, make sure you give them a compass that they can use when they need to find their way home.