I've wanted to be a part of Witness Music's performance of Rob Gardner's Lamb of God for a long time, ever since I attended a performance at Abravanel Hall many years ago. I had gone to support some cousins who were playing in the orchestra, not realizing how much the music would touch me. Since that performance I received emails every year about auditions. And also each year I would hear from my cousins as they raved about the experience, doing their part to advertise for their Easter performances. But I was never able to make it work to join them. Conflicts with our own stake choir Easter cantata and Sally Bytheway Chorale rehearsal times made it impossible. But this year....this year it was going to work. So I filled out the lengthy application and then waited to hear back. Truth be told, by the time I received notice that I had been accepted, I'd nearly forgotten I'd applied and was elbow deep in Willy Wonka auditions and rehearsals. If I'd known I was going to be directing the elementary school play during that same time, maybe I would've delayed another year. But I'm actually quite glad I didn't. Because the past few months of Sunday night rehearsals and then the actual performances in Salt Lake City, Provo and then at the Missionary Training Center and the Utah State Prison, have been nothing but amazing. Truly one of the best things I've been a part of. The spiritual insights and experiences, the people I've met, the things we've all shared together has been not just enjoyable, not just spiritually uplifting and affirming, but oh so essential. I needed this in my life. So many weeks of rehearsals I'd find myself wiping away tears due to the message of the song, but also the sheer beauty of the music. These are experiences, feelings and thoughts I don't ever want to forget.
Here is Hope
I have a friend who has gone through more trials than any one person should have to bear. Early in her marriage she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. The hated and dreaded C word suddenly thrust into her life not just emotional upheaval but of course months and months of painful and awful treatments that did end up saving her life, but also rendered her unable to have children. Ten years of infertility followed. For a woman who had dreamed her whole life of one day becoming a mother, this was incredibly painful. Holidays were difficult, especially Mothers Day as you can imagine. But through the miracle of adoption, she and her husband were eventually able to bring three little boys into their family. They became advocates for open adoptions, speaking at seminars and having wonderful relationships with their son's birth parents. Mothers Day became bearable again. My friend reveled in every milestone her boys achieved. For one who for so long thought a family was not in the cards, you've never seen one so thankful. Her sweet little family was adorable, her stories and pictures shared on social media, delightful. She and her husband, so happy. They had fought through their trials and come out stronger on the other side. They had paid their dues to this test we call life, yes? But then 2 years ago, on Mothers Day of all days, her husband had a heart attack and a few days later he died. I remember hugging my friend at the viewing and wondering about the unfairness of life. Hadn't she had more than her fair share already? When was it enough? But through these past years as my friend has shared her experiences as a widow and a single mother to three young, difficult boys, I have been so amazed, have had so much admiration for the ways in which she's handled this newest, difficult trial with such grace. She doesn't sugar coat it, she is very vulnerable in sharing how hard this all is, how much she grieves for her husband, her partner, the father of her children, the love of her life. How hard it is to help her boys through their grief and questions and to mother them through their daily life on her own. But she is also very quick to see the blessings and tender mercies and the ways in which she knows that Heavenly Father is watching over her, helping her, wrapping His arms around her. Every post she shares on social media is hash tagged with #icandohardthings and #freshcouragetake.
There is a part in Lamb of God where Mary, the mother of Jesus, has just watched her son be crucified and die, and she sings, "O Lord, When is it enough? My breaking heart, though pierced and torn within, I'll keep my vigil here with Him. Behold, the handmaid of the Lord. Be it unto me...until it is enough." My heart just aches every time I hear this line and I can't help but think of my friend. I imagine she too has wondered, "When is it enough?" And yet still she continues on with faith. Because after this line in Lamb of God the work moves into the song Here Is Hope:
He who healed our sorrows, here was bruised and broken.
He whose love no end knows, here was forsaken, left all alone.
Here despair cries boldly, claiming this its victory.
Sweeter peace enfolds me; Hope did not die here, But here was given.
Here is hope.
He who was rejected, he knows well my longing.
He, so long expected, carried our burdens, bore every sorrow.
Here, here, here is hope.
Here is love unbounded, Here is all compassion, Here is mercy founded!
Hope did not die here, but here was given!
And ours is the victory. Here is hope.
Jesus Christ's death wasn't the end, it was just the beginning. And through his atonement and resurrection, we have hope. My friend's example is living testimony of this...Hope did not die here but here is given, here is hope.
Sometime We'll Understand
After a few months of weekly Sunday night rehearsals we moved into dress and tech at the actual venues we'd be performing. Our first tech rehearsal, I arrived a bit early and moved out into the audience seating to wait until it was time to begin. I saw a fellow soprano I recognized but hadn't ever really talked to who smiled and waved me over to sit by her. We got to chatting and somehow, maybe our hearts recognized a kindred spirit, but suddenly we were sharing intimate details of our personal lives. She told me that recently her husband had decided to leave the church and she was struggling mightily with it. Their marriage was rocky as they were navigating a new normal, and she was grappling with how to handle certain aspects of his rejection of a gospel that she still believed in and loved. I grabbed her hand and told her that I knew exactly how she felt, I was just a few years further down the path...my husband too had left the church, and everything she was sharing with me I had dealt with myself. Through tears we started talking even more fast and furious as she peppered me with questions. How did you handle this? How do you navigate that? How did it affect your children? By the time rehearsal started, we walked up to the stage arm and arm, solid friends...somehow knowing that this was a tender mercy, that we were meant to meet.
Because my new friend and I were of similar heights, we ended up frequently assigned to stand next to each other on stage. A few days later during a performance, towards the end of the production Thomas sings a song called Sometime We'll Understand. It is not a song in which the choir participates, so we are seated. Shortly after the song began, I suddenly felt my friend grab my hand. I looked over at her and saw tears streaming down her face which prompted me to listen just a bit more closely to the words being sung. Soon I was crying too.
Not now, but in the coming years, It may not be when we demand,
We'll read the meaning of our tears, and there, sometime, we'll understand
Why what we long for most of all, eludes our open, pleading hand;
Why ever silence meets our call. Somewhere, sometime, we'll understand.
So trust in God through all thy days; Fear not, for He doth hold thy hand;
Though dark thy way, still sing and praise,
Sometime, sometime we'll understand.
Sometime, we'll fall on bended knee, and feel there, graven on His hand;
Sometime with tearless eyes we'll see what here, we could not understand.
So trust in God through all thy days; Fear not, for He doth hold thy hand;
Though dark thy way, still sing and praise,
Sometime, sometime we'll understand.
We don't understand everything going on in our lives. Sometimes we wonder why certain things happen. But we need to trust in God because He is there, holding our hand, and sometime, someday we'll understand.
I Cannot Watch Them
Having a husband who has left the church has been hard. It's not new anymore. We've struggled through and adapted to a new normal in regards to our marriage and family life. We've learned to respect each other's decisions and beliefs, compromise, and practice unconditional love. But heavens, it hasn't been easy. And in the early days of Bryan's decision, I wrestled with my own beliefs a bit. I'd always felt like I had a pretty strong testimony, but being bombarded with so many of Bryan's questions, doubts and newfound beliefs had me reeling. I had to take a hard look at what I believed and why. Was I paying my tithing, living the word of wisdom, going to church on Sundays, reading my scriptures because I wanted to? Or because it's how I was raised and just what I did? How firm was my testimony actually? Could it withstand this? I spent a lot of time going through each building block of my testimony, looking at it carefully, polishing it up and then putting it back into place with a feeling of, "I choose to believe this and this is why." Though incredibly difficult, I came out stronger for it.
The song Peter sings called I Cannot Watch Them is my very favorite. Peter is agonizing over his thrice denial of his association with Jesus. And after he bemoans what he has done for a bit, starts singing about how he cannot watch them crucify his Lord, but that despite his denial, he does indeed know this Man and until his last breath will always and forever emphatically declare, "I know Him!" I find myself in tears every single time this song is sung. It is an emotional song to be sure, but it struck a chord in me that reached deeper than just listening to Peter wrestle with his own feelings. I find myself singing inwardly along with Peter that I too "know this Man!" This I know, this I am sure of, this I can declare. And though it has been a few years since my own wrestle, when I hear this song it is such a comfort, relief and spiritual confirmation of my testimony in a living and loving Heavenly Father and Savior, Jesus Christ.
I cannot watch them take my Lord. I can't endure their cruel hands upon Him,
While His own hands are tied with cord, Those hands with power to raise the dead,
command the storm, now bound instead and,
I cannot hear them mock His name. I cannot bear their foul breath upon Him,
I dare not look upon His face and see the very Son of God,
His brow so bruised and stained with blood
His eyes that shed my sorrow's tears, and watch as all hope disappears.
I will not watch them crucify my Lord!
For I know this Man! I know Him! I know this Man!
I cannot watch what He must bear. For surely He must carry all my burden.
Forgive me, Lord, that I'm not there.
But when my eyes are closed in death, these words will hang on my last breath:
I know Him.
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As I mentioned above, in the weeks following our series of concerts in Salt Lake City and Provo, a smaller group of us had the opportunity to perform the work at the Missionary Training Center and then again at the Utah State Prison.
Though both Rebekah and Julianne are now home from their missions, as soon as the missionaries started to file into their seats I found myself reverting back into missionary momma mode and had tears spring to my eyes. Two by two they came, with smiles on their faces and black badges on their chests. They were an appreciative audience and at the end of the performance, stood and gave us a moment of silence as their ovation. It was powerfully touching. And then I had to smile when so many of the sister missionaries came down to meet Daniel Beck who sang the role of Peter, fangirling a bit as they asked for selfies. Couldn't say I blamed them in the slightest and it made me smile.
We sang two performances at the prison with a lunch at the home of one of the choir members who lived nearby in-between...bless her, we were a big group. I've sung at the prison before with the Sally Bytheway Chorale but always for the women inmates. In this case we were singing for higher security men inmates. Though some of them truly may have been excited about the prospect of an Easter themed religious performance, I've got to assume some of them wanted to attend solely for some variety or the opportunity for time out of their cell. The room we were singing in was lined with prison guards as the men came in. But interestingly, as I watched their faces throughout the performance, so many were honestly moved by the music we were singing and the message we shared. Faces crumpled, tears were leaking down cheeks, I even saw a few men bury their heads in their hands and watched as their shoulders shook. It was all I could do to keep myself under control emotionally. And when the performance was over, one of the prisoners gave one of the most heartfelt prayers I have ever heard. It is a testament to the power of music but even more, the power of the spirit that was in that room. I will never forget it.
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Other memorable and/or humorous moments:
* My Dalton/Laudie cousins have been a part of Lamb of God for many years. They are a very large, very musically talented family and for the first time, eight of them were playing together in the orchestra, along with Jim's high school son singing in the choir with me. So between us all we had four violins, two trombones, two flutes, one baritone and one soprano. Talk about Dalton Family Represents! I am the oldest grandchild, some of my cousins even being the same age as my own children. But I was delighted to find that during this experience age kind of just melted away. So though I was old enough to be their mother, some of them...they treated me like they would any other cousin. We were family. And it was such a highlight spending time with them during rehearsals and in-between performances.
* The percussion section were notorious pranksters and kept us all in giggle fits during rehearsals. They had a rubber chicken that would make sneaky appearances or squeak at the most inopportune times. (Not during actual performances, of course.)
* Our director Jason showed up at one of the dress rehearsals in a T-Rex costume, claiming that he had wanted to wear "tails."
* Though probably the majority of us belonged to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we were putting on a non-denominational concert and before each performance we had prayers given by leaders of other religions which I found rather wonderful. We also had little cast devotionals in the Green Room before going onstage which were meant to put us in the right frame of mind to share the beautiful message of Lamb of God. I enjoyed each and every one of them so much! They were so beautifully uplifting that I walked onto the stage each night with tear ducts already primed...waterproof mascara was a must for these performances.
* For most of the performances we also had an American Sign Language cast who not only signed the words that were narrated and sung, but also acted out the parts. I've always found ASL fascinating, but to watch them sign and perform the words we were singing about the last week of Christ's life was incredibly moving. Their facial expressions and movements as they signed what their counterpoints were singing were just phenomenal. Hearing impaired were able to come and see with their eyes and their hearts what they couldn't physically hear with their ears. They read the words, watched the performance being acted out, and felt the vibrations of the musical instruments through the floor. It was incredible.
* Our directors Jason and Shane. Both of them absolutely amazing. It was a privilege to sing for them and under their direction.
I'm already missing it and can't wait till next year.
