Music in the Wind
Music is a language to me like French or English. I have been singing in church since I was a young child and performed solos beginning at age eleven. There was a choir director at church who later became a Judge in my hometown. He fostered my talent and allowed me into his home to sit with his children at the dinner table. This family was what I wanted to have someday for my own children. A home filled with books and music of all kinds.
In High School I joined the choir, which was a class. We had two periods twice a week and one period on Friday ~ all music. It was a time for me to shine. After school I sang with the vocal ensemble. For three and three-quarter years of High School this was my identity. Then the Spring Concert practices began and my heart began to hurt. The High School Choir director chose "Jesus Christ Superstar" as the Spring Concert theme. As we began to practice the songs I was falling apart. These songs went against my beliefs.
I was 17 years old and had spent every Sunday and most Wednesday nights of my life in church. My summers had been spent with my Grandparents' and at church camps. These songs were sacrilege to my soul. I met with the choir director and told him I could not perform in the Spring Concert and he was not kind. I left his office in tears and the Principal saw me and called me in to talk. He understood and changed my schedule for the remaining quarter of my senior year. I had enough credits that I could have finished in December, but I had stayed at the High School for music. Now I had none.
I transferred to Art. For the remainder of the year I completed an entire four years of the art program. My heart still hurt from missing out on singing at graduation and the Baccalaureate service. There was only one other student who had been in the program for the four years with me and she was given honors and a scholarship in music. I was in disgrace and I never told my friends in choir why I dropped out.
Christmas Morning
On Christmas morning we celebrated the Christ-mass. There were only a few of us that came. Covid has had a great toll on our attendance. My favorite spot is on the right side three pews back where I can sing and no one can worry about getting my germs on them while I sing.
My weary heart rejoiced.
Many years later...I visited that time when I stood by my belief. There have been times of great failing in my life. There were many years that my singing of hymns was only at the clothes line while hanging the laundry for my four children, their father and his mother. I taught them the Christmas songs from an old hymnal that I got from my mother's piano bench. She had passed away before any of my children were born.
Recently, I mentioned the scripture from Esther..."for such a time as this." (4:14) We are in a time that needs the songs of the redeemed. The prayers of God's people need to be said when we lie down and when we rise up...when we walk and sit. Our weary world needs to know why we are rejoicing.
2020 has not been kind to many people. However, those of us who are still on the earth have a job to do. God is not finished with us yet.
From the Westminster Shorter Catechism of 1648: "What is man's chief end? Answer: The chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever." 
My protestant upbringing is the foundation of my faith. My new Anglican tradition is putting it all together.
As we hear from the priest each mass, "Pray brethren that my sacrifice and yours will be acceptable to God the Father Almighty."
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