Every Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, and other church-going holidays, the same sorry group of musically-inclined folks volunteer their talents in front of our church congregation. It’s never a professional grade performance, but hopefully the music brings a peaceful feeling to the meeting. Music, even at amateur levels, has the ability to touch people’s hearts in different and meaningful ways that words cannot.
I play the piano, so I’m often recruited to accompany the choir, soloists, and string quartets on these holidays. At my church, the choir seats and piano are arranged so that I am always adjacent to the soprano section. The best soprano at my church by far is Ms. J. It’s not a dramatic, American Idol, belting voice or an operatic diva sound. Her voice delivers pure, simple tones with just the right amount of vibrato. She’s the kind of soprano who’s fun to sing harmony with because she makes you sound better than you do alone. Ms. J. not only sings, but plays the piano, cello, and organ. In fact, she is the only organist I know who sings along with the hymns as she accompanies the congregation.
But wait! There’s more…
Ms. J. writes stories and screenplays, and is the fastest reader I’ve ever met. She is politically aware, can articulate her opinions intelligently, and has a great sense of humor. I love her chocolate chip cookies and her black-eyed pea salsa. I just can’t say enough good things about Ms. J. She is number eight of 11 children and I love to ask her what probably seem like ridiculous questions about her childhood like:
What kind of car did your Mom drive you all around in?
What did your Mom make for dinner for all those kids?
How many bathrooms were in your house?
Ms. J. always answers my questions graciously and doesn’t tell me to knock it off with my Barbara Walters-style probing interview, though she probably should.
This Sunday, I followed some important rules of entertaining. I kept the meal simple. I prepared several dishes the day before. I even cleaned the night before so I was much more relaxed during the two or three hours before Ms. J. arrived. I snuck in 30-minute nap when I’d normally be frantically vacuuming the house and cramming messes into the laundry room. I served pulled pork sandwiches with cole slaw, roasted potatoes, baked cauliflower with cheese sauce, raw apples and carrots, and chocolate cream pie.
Kate, Jack, and Rock did a great job of eating dinner, engaging Ms. J. in conversation, and running off to play after dessert.
When Ms. J. arrived, she disclosed that she was a little suspicious she had been innocently invited over to dinner, but would then be ambushed by an Amway presentation or even worse, a blind date.
I was happy to assure her that we had no agenda.
Just friendship.
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