Extraordinary Moments



How often do we have them? I feel a bit charmed… I’ve had my share. I love “moments”. Recently, I’ve had the pleasure of quite a few. One came in the form of the sparkle I saw in the eyes of my MS choirs as they sang at their Christmas Program. It felt a bit magical as they sang and responded to direction with their spirits and their voices. Another came a week later when the wonderful community choir I directed sang their Christmas Concert. The whole concert was great, but their singing of Randall Thompson’s “Alleluia” was really moving. Wow--- I wanted to just stand there and breathe for a bit. Then, last night at our Christmas Eve service, I was carried for just a few moments on the wings of a really great musical set of songs—just beautiful! My spirit sang along with my voice and I was wishing I could capture the experience and somehow relive it later.

The best moment came today, at home with our four year old daughter. This year we decided to buy a trampoline that was safety-netted and allow our bouncy daughter the opportunity to really bounce. She’s been jumping on everything since she learned to stand, and today she jumped until she could bounce no more.

Spent from about 40 minutes of continuous jumping, we lay on the pad with our heads together and looked up into the canopy of leaves above us. The sky was grey and the wind was stirring around us in small gusts. The leaves whispered and sighed in their rustling. “Listen,” I whispered. “Do you hear that?

“Yes,” she whispered back.

“That’s the sound of the wind in the trees. Do you hear it get louder and softer?”

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” she breathed.

There it was—a “moment” with my daughter. She’d proclaimed the sound beautiful. Contented sigh… I love such moments. They’re extraordinary.

Meals, Music, and Memories



Last Saturday night we hosted a dinner for the folks in our area who went on the missions trip to Turkey. Like every good hostess, I cleaned my house (except for the teenager’s bedroom) and organized the meal, which was slightly more Greek than Turkish, but the middle-eastern flair was there. A staple in Turkish cooking, eggplant was on the menu most places we ate… so I looked up area Turkish restaurants online and found a common denominator: Moussaka. It’s delicious, and decidedly different. My friend Rita brought a wonderful soup that reminded all of us of the soup we ate on the terrace of the cave hotel. As in Turkey, our plates were heaped with sumptuous foods, and we reminisced over the fabulous meals we had eaten together on our trip.

The two photographers in our group brought slides to share and we all ooo’ed, ahhh’ed and made various funny comments about the pictures as they moved across the screen. I was unprepared to be stricken with heartache… my heart yearned to be back on the streets of Istanbul, to be climbing the golden hills of Cappadocia, and exploring the ruins of long ago civilizations. When pictures of those we’d met and come to love while there appeared on the screen I found myself whispering their names. Dear people—some brothers and sisters in faith, and some Muslim. I miss them.

Moving through my oh-so American life has seemed slightly surreal since our return. Days are filled with busyness… programs to plan and perform, choirs and ensembles to rehearse, meetings, meetings, and more meetings, and family. The days go by in a blur, and the stress to get everything done is tremendous. I miss the beauty and the mystique of Turkey.

I’ve tried to find a sense of balance by enjoying the beautiful music of the Middle East in my home and car. When our friends were over I played a cd in the background that I’ve not been able to stop listening to. I found the artist online while looking for Turkish music. The artist isn’t Turkish, but the music is a mix of Persian, Turkish, Iranian, and Bulgarian. It’s just beautiful. The singer’s voice is rich and warm, and her artistry is evident in her interpretation of 14th century chants and contemporary folk melodies. So, the music of Azam Ali plays in our home while I cook and work. Our daughter says it reminds her of Turkey, and my husband says it reminds him of the incredible vistas of Cappadocia. The other night he said that the melodies evoke memories of standing on a hill overlooking a golden valley… the very earth seemed to sing in a similar way.


Maybe I’m enamored with the country because it’s the location of my first missions trip. Maybe it’s because I’m an idealist and romantic who loves all things exotic. Maybe it’s just me being quirky, but I have to say I think I may never be the same. Something deep called to my spirit. Now, when I drift off to sleep my dreams are flavored with the scent of spice hanging in the air, interlaced by hauntingly beautiful melodies that seem to float up from a mystical landscape blurred with golden hills, ancient marble, caves, moonlight, and throngs of people.