Hello and happy end of July 2026!
We are almost through the Summer, which is crazy!
Time to drive right in!
There are moments in life that quietly remind us who helped shape the people we’ve become. This week, I learned of the passing of my high school choir teacher, Mrs. Kline Smith, and I’ve found myself reflecting on just how much of my life and ministry still carries her fingerprints.
She was the kind of teacher who made music feel magical. Glitter wasn’t just a craft supply—it was practically a personality trait. Every production had a theme, every performance had intention, and every student was encouraged to believe they were capable of something greater than they imagined.
As a nervous freshman, she entrusted me with playing the Hallelujah Chorus on the piano alongside the choir and orchestra. Looking back, that was an incredible act of faith in a teenager who wasn’t quite sure he belonged behind those keys. She believed in me to play that wholeheartedly and that is something I’ve never forgotten.
The older I get, the more I realize that the traditions I love creating didn’t begin with me. The themed Christmas Eve services I enjoy planning, the carefully chosen choir anthems, and the desire to create worship experiences that people remember all trace back, in one way or another, to lessons I learned sitting in her classroom.
She taught me that music isn’t just something we perform—it’s something we experience together. It’s storytelling. It’s community. It’s joy wrapped in harmony. I don’t know that I ever properly thanked her for planting those seeds, but I hope she knew just how far they would grow.
Those thoughts have stayed with me as I’ve spent the past few weeks serving as Music Director for Center Stage Theater Camp at Ephrata Performing Arts Center. Working alongside Ms. Kim, Ms. Sarah, and an incredibly talented group of young performers on Mary Poppins Jr. has been one of the unexpected gifts of my summer.
Every rehearsal has been filled with laughter, curiosity, and those magical moments when a child suddenly discovers they can do something they never thought possible. Watching these young performers grow in confidence reminds me that the future is in remarkably good hands.
Their enthusiasm is contagious, their creativity is limitless, and their willingness to cheer one another on gives me hope.
In a world that often feels weighed down by discouraging headlines, financial pressures, and the endless list of things demanding our attention, these experiences have gently redirected my focus. It’s easy to become consumed by the “what ifs” and the worries that seem to multiply overnight.
I’ve certainly caught myself giving too much energy to things that, in the grand scheme of life, aren’t what truly sustain me. They aren’t the things that fill my heart or make me feel alive.
Instead, I’m reminded that joy has always been found in the simplest places: a choir rehearsal, a Christmas anthem, a theater full of children discovering their gifts, a mentor who believed in a freshman pianist, or a room full of people singing together.
Those are the moments that leave a lasting imprint. Those are the moments that remind me why I continue to say yes to music, to community, and to creating spaces where people can belong.
Maybe that’s the lesson I’ve needed all along. Life will always offer reasons to worry, but it also offers countless opportunities to notice the good. Sometimes the good sparkles a little—like glitter scattered across a stage. Sometimes it sounds like children singing Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.
And sometimes it lives in the legacy of a teacher whose kindness and creativity continue to echo through the lives of her students long after the final curtain has closed.
For that reminder, and for all the people who continue to inspire me to choose joy, I am incredibly grateful.
Sprinkle sunshine always,
JP!
Mr. Sunshine Smiles 