This is a hard subject to discuss out loud, so I’ll have to
write it here. I’ve been singing and sighing, and yes, weeping a little bit
today. It was a wonderful, difficult, productive, sad day. It was a day filled
with gathering and letting go.
For almost fifteen years I was the minister of music at a
large United Methodist church in Pennsylvania. Sadly the church which was once
a thriving center of community events is now in disrepair with only a handful
of members. The congregation has scheduled their final worship service in
January.
Front view of new sanctuary Original sanctuary is in the background |
This is the church where I grew up, was baptized and
confirmed, and began my career. My wife and I were married in the sanctuary in
front of almost 400 people. My mother was the organist there for more than 20
years. Leaving was one of the most difficult decisions we ever made, but I knew
I had to change direction to plan for a family. After leaving I was invited
back at the dying request of a dear member who asked that I direct the choir at
her funeral. We only returned a handful of times after that.
Until …
A few days ago I received a text from a childhood friend,
asking if I would like to have some choir music from the church. A million
emotions gathered at once in my heart. “I haven’t set foot in the choir room
since Dolly’s funeral. I don’t know if I can handle the emotional flood,” was
my first thought. I wasn’t sure what would happen. I knew it would be good to
have closure, but I also knew it would be eerily familiar and awkward at the
same time.
A small sample of the music in the cabinets |
I accepted the offer and met his wife at the church this
morning. The building itself was mostly the same, with a few exceptions, mostly
due to areas that are no longer accessible due to structural damage. It made me
both happy and sad to be allowed into the building to explore my territory and
write a conclusion to my story.
We sorted through five large cabinets filled with choir
octavos, cantatas, sheet music, hymnals, and other books. As I looked at the
years of musical memories, I recounted stories of the music, the church,
members, former pastors, friends, celebrations, and sadness.
2-manual Rogers organ |
I took some pictures and walked around the classrooms, social
hall, kitchen (what I wouldn’t give to have those pizza ovens in our church in
NY), and sanctuary. I sat where my mom sat and played the Rogers organ one last
time. It sounded glorious as always.
I was given a gift today. Not just the physical gift of
music, but a chance to travel back in time to relive a treasured experience in
a very personal way – a way that no one else will or can understand.
Thank you, Lord, for allowing me on last look around.
“A
time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;”
~Ecclesiates
3:6
Center aisle, looking toward the narthex. |