The Gift of A Capella


One of the highlights of our trip to Idaho was introducing my husband and children to the Ricks College (now BYUI) Campus.  I enjoyed showing them around my old stomping grounds.  I thought it would be fun to visit, but I was not prepared for what would happen when we toured the Snow Building, where I had spent most of my waking hours for 2 years. 

As we walked in the doors my emotions became very keen to the past.  We found our way through the “fish bowl,” into the dark corridors of the Barrus Concert Hall and the tears began.  Old friends and strains of music from long ago nights flowed from those walls and into my heart.  My memories came alive, the risers, the polyester dresses, the anticipation, Brother Luke, the smiles, the audience, they were all there dancing out of the cobwebs in my mind.  I could not speak, only try to hold back the tears as I realized once again how much this place, those people, had meant to me.  So much of who I became, how I was molded, took place right there.  Some of my greatest moments were standing on that stage hanging on until the last note stopped ringing in the air and the applause would come, feeling a part of something that was so close to perfection.  We worked, we played, we studied, and we prayed that our music would be all it could be, that we could be one instrument.  We were.  Our hearts, all fifty of them, united in music, as friends, pulling together, ringing as one voice.  Brother Luke’s motto, “Ban Mediocrity” had pushed us to levels none of us had ever before felt or achieved.  And there it all came back to me. 

I haunted that Hall a few minutes more, touched the seats, opened the doors, stood on the stage, hummed a note or two, cried a few more tears, and thanked my Heavenly Father for the gift He had given me, the gift of A Cappella.

November 2007

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