The View from the Stage – if the Audience Only Knew

The local Ice Cream Social is coming up soon, a big fundraiser for the Art Center. As part of that event we will be singing, hopefully to the enjoyment of those who come. The performance is what all of the practice and preparation lead up to, and yet it is really just the tip of the iceberg, that tiny fraction sticking out of the water that everyone can see. It is what happens underneath the water, in the rehearsals – that is where the real stories live. But, I sometimes wish the audience only knew a few of the insider stories that occur during practices.

There is laughter, silly faces, and some awful notes that occur during practice. It is where we can laugh at our mistakes and correct them. There is joy and effort, support and trust as we know through a gesture or look to change the range of harmony, repeat a line or switch the lead. Three dogs roam around at the same time, sitting on feet and “singing” along with enthusiasm. Lyrics become more familiar and details like clean word endings become the focus of attention. Songs chosen because of lyrics actually gain small stories of their own from how they are arranged, changed and finalized.

All of these little rabbit trails occur, and pop into my mind as I face the audience later. They only really get to see such a tiny part of the whole. 

Point and Counterpoint

I haven’t thought about the theories of point and counterpoint, as in musical structure, in a long time. If those are unfamiliar terms, think of a song's melody. The counterpoint occurs when musically a juxtaposition of a new melody is woven into and on top of the first. Without going into the weeds of canons, fourths and fugues; these two independent melody lines play together in a piece of music, each complimenting the other.

Yesterday evening out for a walk in this still deliciously cool June weather, I was enjoying the beautiful sky and the forming sunset. The shoots of pink and orange caught my attention as big audacious brushes of color fanned across the sky to create mammoth rays. It wasn’t for some time after admiring those bands of color that I noticed that there were much more subtle lines of blue crossing the rays. Independently there and yet part of the whole picture.

That was when it hit me - it is point and counterpoint! Two melodic views have been joined together to create one whole, each complimenting the other in an artistic God created vision of beauty. 

A Look Is All It Takes - Trust

It is a good thing that I wasn’t one of those kids that was embarrassed by my parents singing in random public places, at home, on stages, and pretty much everywhere between. I would have lived in a constant state of mortification otherwise! I learned at a very early age to add my voice instead. Hey – it beats stage fright! My part is alto and I join in with my mom and dad. When we have the opportunity we’ll add more voices to the mix; family joining the chorus, making the sound so much richer and stronger. 

Singing together, lots, for lots of years, you learn to “read” each other.  A look can tell someone to switch parts because you feel a sneeze coming on, warn me off from heading flat, or share a moment of sweet relief when something touch and go comes together. For me, being an alto, reaching the high notes can create squeaks that I would really rather not put out for public consumption.  So, some switching goes on and almost always the audience is completely unaware of what is going on. The same way with slowing down the tempo or deciding to sing the chorus one more time, it doesn’t take a word, you just know.

It’s all done with a look, a nod, a flick of the hand, a sway – most of the time it doesn’t require a verbalized thought. What is seen as a comfortable knowledge of the other person, the part they will take, how they hear the music, their strengths and where they will struggle, it all boils down to trust. It is something that takes time to develop, but when it is there, the music can be so sweet and freeing. 

Summer Saturday Mornings

I’m not a morning person, really, at all. Bring on the coffee! And yet, most ideal Saturday morning sleeping in times, I am awake and up.  First I enjoy quiet time in the yard with the mandatory coffee cup in hand, and then I head to the garden for some time of weeding and harvesting. 

This last Saturday was no exception.  The beautiful lily blooms welcomed the day with their bright colors.  Industrious butterflies fluttered on the wind like yellow and white wisps. The garden was equally welcoming, the coffee is now in a to-go mug, and I enjoyed the sound of the bees flying from corn tassels to squash flowers to bean flowers.  My hands became dirty, little scratches appear on my arms from moving aside squash leaves, and great excitement builds at finding green beans ready to be picked and bring home.  A few hours later, after removing the pounds of dirt I have picked up from “playing” in the garden, I am ready to really start my weekend. 

Though coffee remains a common factor throughout, it is the quiet time that refreshes my spirit at the start of the weekend.  It is time away from excess noise and wonderful distractions to listen quietly for God’s voice.  The words of the song, Great is Thy Faithfulness, fill my heart.  “‘Great is Thy faithfulness,’ O God my Father,’” sweet words in all seasons and times of day; even in the morning with a cup of coffee in my hand.

Anthem of Joy

The Christmas musical And On Earth, Peace has finished.  Months of practice, planning, rehearsal, and preparation culminated into two nights of performance.  Then, it is over and we are left with stories, memories, and the tunes stuck in our head.

The musical score, each song that has been practiced over and over (and over) are hushed now from the formal performance.  But, these anthems of praise, anthems of joy, are not merely the music written for the performance.  It is the laughter and giggles, and at time chortles and guffaws, that have filled the stage – these are a theme in the anthem of joy.  Each of the carefully prepared devotions, led and given with leading questions are pointing out phrases.  The whip of flags provides a soft rhythm in the song; while the practices and performance of the angel color guard continue to add a momentum of building tempos.  The sound of little shepherd feet running to their places is a percussive vibrato accented by the quiet counterpoint of a whisper of wheelchairs and walkers and feet spilled with candlelight.  The hands on the sound board, the lights, and computer are all subtle in movement.  But, they are such an important part of the musical line, part of the joyous hymn.  A new baby’s sleepy sigh, a touch point in a phrase that is complex with many parts melding into time changes and key change, rings out into the smallness of the rafters and the largeness of the heart.  It is sensed in the feet of children dancing on their parents’ laps without conscious thought, simply with the need to join the celebration.  Whispered instructions from flashlight wielding stage crews add a new instrumental line; one so subtle that many do not notice, unless it would suddenly not be there.  The audience reaches out to meet the joy, and shares it back with applause, smiles, and warm wishes.

The music comes to a silence, but the anthem of joy does not end.  This time is merely another change of pace before moving to a new musical line.  Another key change, a new bridge, and a series of fermatas, then pause for breath before speed finds its new metronomic pace.  The anthem continues in the well wishes of Christmas, the wide-eyed wonder of the child who can twirl and experience wonder in helping place the nativity.  It is experienced in the feel of the clean crisp quietness belonging to the first snow.  The smells of cookies delivered to neighbors strike gentle glissandos, while the delivery of a blanket to one who is cold heralds joy like a perfectly struck chime.  Bells break in as Christmas carolers visit others.  Shared meals with harmony, dissonance, and resolution revolve in the bond of family.  Delicate soprano notes play as little ones don costumes and take their places on stages to win hearts and steal shows.  New chords are tried as new memories are made and old familiar chords blend in with sweet traditions.

The program ends, And On Earth, Peace.  The lights have come back on, and people eventually filtered back out into the dark and snowy night. But, the anthem of joy does not end.  It is the eternal anthem of the joy of the Lord, one of complexity and styles that has stretched for thousands of years of music.  And yet, though with different instrumental focuses, the same theme repeats.  Come, join in the anthem, it is the joy of the Lord.

Chainsaw Chorus

A storm blew in a few days ago. It blew in, blew through, and blew some things over.  When the storm blew past, a chainsaw chorus started to play around the neighborhood.  Chainsaws started playing at their various pitches from all around.   The song of a storm became the song of a neighborhood cleaning up, the sound of people checking on each other, the sound of recovery occurring.  There was a death in our community with this storm, and there is also the sound of grieving losses of something that is not replaceable. 

Picking up some branches, listening to the chainsaws, I thought of the song that resonated with me with the last tornado, “God of Wonders.”  A severe storm, not one of my favorite natural occurrences by any stretch of the imagination, does serve to remind me that God is indeed a God of wonders.  Some of those wonders the very dangerous storms.  And, once the storm has passed, He is the God of wonders as we start loving our neighbors.  The song of the storm, the song of the chainsaw – it’s the same chorus of the wonder God who teaches us to love Him and our neighbors.