Fathers' Day Morning

This morning, I sang a solo for the weekly chapel service at Clarewood House, the retirement facility where both my mom, and Steve's mom, Carol, live. Because Sam, Steve's dad, very steadfastly cares for Carol there daily, he has also become somewhat of a resident himself.

I don't often sing at Clarewood on Sunday morning because their service coincides with the Chapelwood service when the Chancel (adult) Choir sings. The Chancel Choir is my musical outlet-social outlet-small group at church - that little thing I do for myself to keep myself sane. The song I sang today was "In This Very Room", a favorite among the residents and one for which I can easily accompany myself on guitar. The Clarewood chaplain, Thomas Hill, has created such a supportive, inclusive, accepting community in the service that the chapel overflows with residents - they start streaming in at 10:15 (for an 11:00 service) on foot, with walkers, in scooters and wheelchairs to hear confirmation of the fact that even as they face the limitations inherent in aging, they still have a calling and a usefulness in their home that is Clarewood.

I love being a part of that experience for and with them. They are so grateful, so appreciative for a little special music now and then, and they take time to seek you out to verbally express that. Just having the opportunity to sing a solo is a treat, but to have people greet it so warmly is a huge gift on top of that. Not all congregations do that anymore. I admit to finding that strange, but then I am still somewhat uncomfortable about all the clapping that goes on in church these days. (oops, my age is showing, right?) There are just times when it's intrusive and breaks the flow of the worship experience for me - puts me in a concert hall where there is a "performance" alone, and not with the intent of the music being an offering to God in worship. I mean, would we clap over the collection plates being put on the altar? On the other hand, if you've managed to pull off a remarkable performance of an oratorio, and after a moment of silence for the full effect to fill your heart, you hear the congregation burst into applause out of appreciation for the composer's work and the time you have put into preparing it, well that's a magical moment.

So, I obviously have mixed feelings about all of this. I guess the best a performer can do is to try to make the music speak to the heart, and then accept whatever expression comes out from the audience.