“But what do I do?” I anxiously enquired of our Minister. “Just do what Gerry does” he replied. So for the first time I sat at the Communion table and helped. I didn’t drop the bread and I didn’t spill the wine. I was feeling pretty confident and the service was almost over when suddenly Gerry got up and started walking towards the back of the church. This was different.
But following instructions, I got up and walked behind him right out the door. It was then I realized that he had been chasing his grandson who had gotten away from his parents. The congregation never saw my red face because I just marched right into the choir room and stayed there until the service was over.
The choir room is a familiar place as I have been singing in the choir since I was old enough to read. My first solo “Can a little child like me” convinced me that this was a place I belonged. More than sixty years later I am still there. In those sixty years only twice have I (and the rest of the choir) sung perfectly. When that happens it is something like the scene in the Sistine Chapel. You feel like you have almost touched the hand of God. It was an experience I will never forget.
And there are instances in choir where laughter takes precedence. Once, the sopranos and altos started singing different verses. Speaking in tongues took on a whole new meaning. And another time, the sopranos came in a bar too soon, not leaving time for the baritone section’s line of music, causing one disgruntled male voice to whine, “they wouldn’t let us sing”. It took nearly ten minutes for the laughter to subside.
Of course children always steal the show whether during the children’s story or at the Christmas concert. On one occasion a small child ran up to the manger, then with her finger over her lips, turned to the congregation and said, “Shush, baby sleeping”.
But there are times when your heart almost stops. Like the time I glanced down to the front row where a ten year old girl sat with her legs partly tucked under her and her bare feet resting beside her on the pew bench. Her wheat beige hair hung around her shoulders and the hymn book in her lap. Under the pew were her sandals. Immediately I thought of the scripture, Acts 7:33… “The Lord said to him, “Take your sandals off, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” The image will remain in my mind always.
God speaks to us in so many ways, through laughter, through music and often through the innocence of a small child. We just have to listen.
