Choral Conundrums

Choral Conundrums

The swell of the music has crashed over me.  The day is here.  A day that would be considered quite "notable".

Last week, my son came home excited with the paper --- the one to sign up for chorus, requesting that I fill it out, so that he can immediately return it the next day.

My son frequently has a song in his heart.  If music plays that he likes, his body will bounce or move to the beat.  Recently, he was able to go into an electrical cage at a local Science museum, and he bounced his knees to the music as the bolts surrounded him.  He cannot resist the pull of music.  When he plays, he sings made up melodies to himself.  At times, he is found to have a conversation in song.  Like his Dad, he loves music, and even more so, it is embedded in him.

As I have previously written, music can be hard for me.  It is hard for me to NOT see Wayne there, involved, excited, passionate about the music.  It is hard for me to see others stand in his place.

Wayne sang in my ear when we danced our first song at our wedding.  Wayne would sing to our child when he was an infant, and I remember Wayne recording my voice with his on the computer to create a recording of "Amazing Grace".  He could even play and hum a harmonizing tune at the same time through his Euphonium - called multiphonics - a very cool technique.  Sometimes, I feel like I can still hear his voice in Church when the praise band sings, others singing with the same baritone quality to their voices, some of the songs the ones Wayne sang himself from the stage.

He also sang with his students in band when they put their instruments down and they sang the melodies and rhythm instead.  He was not afraid to sing in front of others, and encouraged introverted me to sing with him in a praise band when we were younger.  He had a way of drawing music out of others, with his grace, patience, and love for music.

While I have told my son that I wish his Dad could see him in Chorus, and that he would be proud to know that he is continuing a musical journey, the deeper layers and depths of grief simmer up during this time for me.  I will have to set foot into a concert again, I will see the places where Wayne has stood, surrounded by the beauty of music that for me, can rip through.  I want to find the inner strength to withstand this, for my son, for me, and for Wayne.  It is okay to grieve, to cry, but I hope for the strength to be able to stay put, to be able to listen, to appreciate the beauty of music.

The choral teacher in our school is new to the district, so I knew I had to tell her who we are.  Her open heart, willingness to learn about us, and her support of us on our journey connected our hearts to hers.  It will not be easy, for it never is, but I do know how incredibly proud Wayne is of our son.  And, so am I.

I can envision that in Heaven no one holds back.  The music produced in worship must pour out, without restriction, without grief, without pain, filled with joy.

Wayne is my song, a melody of my heart.  I talk about him to share my love amongst the longing and grief.  My son is my song too, another beautiful melody in my heart.   So even if I cannot sing, or play, or even listen at times, the music is there.  Inside, loving, reminding, and connecting still.

So on this first day of chorus, my son hesitantly stepped into the chorus room, and I simply left him there with a whispered I love you.  I busied myself with work, but in the hallway I could peek through to see him, standing, focusing, trying out the words of the song.  Looking unsure, but trying.  And, me hoping --- hoping he can find and share his song within.

Reflection Verses:

My harp plays sad music, and my flute accompanies those who weep.  (Job 30:31 NLT)

David and all the people of Israel were celebrating before the Lord, singing songs and playing all kinds of musical instruments—lyres, harps, tambourines, castanets, and cymbals.  (2 Samuel 6:5 NLT)