There's some irony in the fact that for the first three months of this year, I was actually struggling internally to fully appreciate the Tabernacle Choir and maintain my enthusiasm to sing with the choir each week. I guess you could say I was in need of a serious attitude adjustment, a fresh perspective, and a complete reboot. Things had become typical and usual. Rehearsals had become tiresome with my eyes wandering to my watch, often, to see how much time we had left. As we performed song A, B, and C for the umpteenth time, it was a serious chore to keep my head and heart in the right place. I still enjoyed the social aspects of seeing many fellow singers who I had come to love and appreciate, but if I had to hear "Basses! You've GOT to sing higher." one more time, I thought I was going to lose it!
I think the past four+ months have given me my needed reboot.
In fact, I know they have, haha.
How comes it takes not having something for awhile to really appreciate it?
I was reminded of this concept as my wife and I and some friends of ours went hiking this past Thursday. The drive up to the trailhead was beautiful as we wound our way through Little Cottonwood Canyon. While watching the car's external thermostat drop from 80s to 70s, and then to the 60s with clouds swirling in the sky, we wondered how this hike was going to turn out. But after waiting in the car about 15 minutes for the rain to finish, we got out and started up the trail. My eyes began immediately enjoying the beauty all around us. Tall pine trees, fields of wildflowers of every color, huge rock formations, little creeks and streams, and finally at the end, a small "hidden" lake with water so clear you could see the lake's floor. I just wanted to stay there for a long time and feast upon all I was seeing and smelling and feeling. Just a short hour or so before, my mind had been on all of the problems of the world, the continuing sad news of the pandemic, the political strife, and the cries of suffering from so many. But now, with a change of location and Mother Nature sharing her jewels with me, I felt renewed and restored. And I realized just how much I had missed being out in the middle of God's beautiful creations. I mean, the hike my wife and I had taken two weeks ago began that realization process for me. But this hike up to Cecret Lake had magnified and completed it.
As I watched the recent streamed broadcast of "Music for a Summer Evening" today, I carefully and hesitantly thought about that day when all of us choir members would be able to return. Being able to actually do that was a big deal for me because for the past many weeks, I haven't allowed my mind to go there. It was too difficult to think about. It got me too sad. But just for a minute or two, I put myself back into the choir "routine"--riding into the Tabernacle with my carpool friends and discussing each other's lives and upcoming performances; walking to my music locker to get my music; greeting other choir members with smiles (and hopefully, still, some hugs); coming into the loft, finding my seat, and getting out my music; listening to announcements and an opening prayer; and then getting underway with rehearsing. I think no matter what songs we sing on that first day back, we'll all probably end up crying buckets of tears out of that joy we feel to be back doing something we love.
And I dare say I won't care anymore that I've sung a song 15 or 20 times! I'll just be glad to finally be singing and fulfilling the mission of the Choir again. All with a fresh perspective and an attitude reboot-- provided by the longest hiatus the choir has ever taken.
Yes, it's true that sometimes we need things to be taken away before we can really appreciate them again. But that said, I invite all of us to be grateful for what we still have in our lives right now. Because there's a lot if we really look.
Until next time, God be with you.
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