Rainbow Grace: Stories of Hope and Triumph, this collection comprised my latest presentation of stories.  To my delight I was invited to premiere this production at the banquet of the Association of Welcoming and Affirming Baptists in celebration of their 20th anniversary.  There was music, photography of fabulous looking couples, a lucious dinner and dessert.  There were awards to be given and received and speeches given by the donors and more speeches by the recipients.  There was a historical retrospective on power point with photos and video news clips of the worst of our Baptist battles over homosexuality.  It was all wonderful, except that for me, the storyteller working to remember her outline, a particular turn of phrase, a set of lyrics and the words of the Isaiah text embbeded in the passage from the Acts of the Apostles… well, let me say that I was a bit anxious to get on stage.  My 9:00 start time came and went.  9:30 passed on to 10:00, and it was Sunday which meant that every preacher and organist in the house was exhausted.

Just as I began to despair, I remembered Brother Blue at First Night Boston and his ability to transfix any audience, anywhere at any time.  The year of his death, several of us told in his stead.  And yes, we performed right up to the midnight hour.  And yes, the energy we needed was there.  I remembered Michael Anderson chowing down 6 chocolate chip cookies for a kind of sugar buzz restart button, so as the AWAB presentations dragged on, I had 3 cups of coffee with my dessert.

Finally, at 10:15 pm, I was invited to perform.  I drew a verbal story picture of Harvard Square, yes Brother Blue was there, together with the audience I entered Passim’s and I sang Pat Humphries’ Gonna Light This Night Together, then intoned two words wrapped in gentle justice: rainbow grace.  They were riveted.  I spoke for 35 minutes without a break and you could hear a pin drop.  No one moved, they were mesmerized by the muse, sated in the spirit, gripped in the grace.

OK.  Not everyone.  Steve not only slept, but snored.  His companions nudged him awake and sent him home.  But he insisted to me the next day that he always falls asleep at 10:00 pm.  No matter how fascinating his surroundings.

So here’s what I know: storytelling is spiritual.  It is possible to tell tales to an exhausted audience who will awake spiritually.  They become focused and riveted and alive to the spirit.  The energy shared in story and scripture is in a divine realm inspiring a weary teller and awakening a sleepy audience.