One of the highlights of our trip to Idaho was introducing my husband and children to
the Ricks College Snow Building
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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