FOLLOW THE VOICE

As 2013 has drawn to a close, I reflect on the blessings of the year gone by.  One in particular gives voice to itself in a way I cannot.  And so, as a commentary on that high point, I will give that moment its own life as I invite you with me to “Colla Voce,” or “follow the voice.”

Colla Voce of the Sierra is a local chamber choral ensemble under inspired Artistic Director Janine Dexter. Colla Voce singers bring to each performance an artistry which entertains, engages, and empowers audiences of all musical backgrounds and ages.  Newly added this season is the Colla Voce Children’s Chorus director Jean Sawyer, our beloved choir director at St. Teresa of Avila Church.  Jean lives the credo that her love for music is eclipsed only by her love for children. 

My decision to delay my winter desert escape this year was made easier by the choice made by my 9-year old great niece Sydney to audition for the Colla Voce Children’s Chorus.  She was selected, and I joined other children’s family members at rehearsals as we enjoyed watching our children bloom and grow into their own sense of musicality.  Voices improved and blended and confidence levels rose under the watchful, nurturing eyes of two dedicated professionals.  Through compelling program development and song selection, Janine and Jean challenged and integrated the talents of the adults and children, both as individual choruses and as a new, combined singing family.

On the last weekend of the rehearsal series, we experienced an uncharacteristic snowstorm which left several inches of snow on the ground at the venue where we were to meet on Saturday night.  Several of us whose vehicles could manage the terrain doubled up the kids we were transporting and headed off to this first rehearsal where the adult choir would join the children’s in the performance numbers in which they were both participating.  For those of us who had only watched and heard “mute conducting” during the adult parts (where Jean would keep the cadence but silence the kids until it was their turn to come in), this would be the opportunity to hear the support we knew the adults’ voices would bring as they filled their 3 rows behind the children. 

As I sat in the pew of the church venue at the end of the children’s rehearsal, I began anticipating the blending of voices when the adults joined.  As Jean stepped down and Janine took the podium, I assumed the children’s rehearsal was over.  I looked around the semicircular church and noticed that the adults seemed to be processing down each of the four aisles.  Suddenly Janine turned to the children, the adults stopped mid-step, and Janine announced to the children that they were to sing one more song – Night of Silence.  I had heard the children sing this haunting melody many times, and I knew that, as the melody was sung, the song “Silent Night” was hummed in the background.  In rehearsal, the faint sound of the few children chosen to hum Silent Night was supported by those in attendance, so I assumed the same dynamic would occur in concert as the audience would hum in background.  Here in rehearsal I was prepared, as were the other parents and family members scattered about the church, to assume that role as best we could.

The children, eyes fixed on the direction of Mrs. Dexter, began to sing the first verse of “Night of Silence.” 

         “Cold are the people,

Winter of life,

We tremble in shadows this cold endless night,

Frozen in the snow lie roses sleeping,

Flowers that will echo the sunrise,

Fire of hope is our only warmth,

Weary, its flame will be dying soon.”

The children then began singing Silent Night, but this time the director, rather than mute conducting the children, turned to the adults.  These gracefully-posed mannequins lining the aisles came alive and sang the second verse in perfect harmonic elegance and cadence with the children’s Silent Night:

“Voice in the distance, call in the night,

On wind you enfold us you speak of the light,

Gentle on the ear you whisper softly,

Rumors of a dawn so embracing,

Breathless love awaits darkened souls,

Soon will we know of the morning.”

And the magic of Christmas swept in. The children were as surprised as all of us in attendance that the adults had joined them in song.  They were wide-eyed with another surprise which many readers with musical background would have anticipated… the sound was bouncing all around the church because of the dual dynamic of two singing groups facing each other and voices being thrown into open spaces where filled pews would normally have absorbed the sound.  I watched as the children struggled valiantly to keep their focus, as all the while their eyes wanted to dart around and catch the sound.  Where was it going?  What was happening?  Like fireflies, it darted to and fro and enhanced the beauty and magic of the moment. 

What a blessing to have been there, to have been a part of such a spontaneous series of events, and to have experienced them concurrently through the eyes and ears of children, of their family members, and of the participants themselves.  In my gratitude and wonder, tears dribbled down my cheeks.  I looked around to see the same thing happening to mothers, fathers, grandparents, and even adult chorus members.  Fate’s reward for braving a wintry night was a memory which would be forged in our minds as a Christmas blessing. For seeing that night was truly believing… believing in the magic of the blessing of the Christmas season.  And the Cheshire cat smiles on the faces of our two conductors, protagonists in this caper, were priceless.

Christmas this year was family-filled, fun and eventful.  The New Year is upon us, and I am listening to prayers for peace on earth and good will toward men.  I share those wishes for you all, and I urge you to think about your most magical moments.  Press in and wish many more like them into your new year.  I trust that if you seek them out, they will be there for the taking, for the seeing, and for the sharing.  Listen inside yourself.  Follow the voice.