Unfazed by a snowstorm cancellation, a group of eight carolers and a support group of two descended on the Alterra/ Clarebridge nursing home on Monday, December 17 to share Christmas cheer in the form of four-part harmony. Although mainly composed of Harvest members, and missing half its original number, the group was blessed to represent both Focus small groups and the University of Michigan ECMO lab.
In all seriousness, singing is a joy that I have loved to share with others since college. God saw fit to bring me to know Him through a series of random occurrences starting from who I sat next to on the plane out to Amherst, MA, to my accidental audition for a Christian acappella group. Surely they saw through my audition interview:
Spiritual leader: How’s your walk with God?
Me: Um. . . you guys are going to hate me, but I don’t like going to church.
Intimidating girl: But you are a Christian, right?
Me:
Somehow, they saw fit to accept me into their group. . . and the rest is history that I am happy to share with anyone who wants to listen. I remember singing some songs with the group after which I could not speak because my soul was lifting up praise to God for how beautiful the words and sounds were. It was with this group that I first sang Christmas carols in four-part harmony and enjoyed filling up the dorm stairwells with the sounds of our harmony. And it was the joy of these experiences that caused me to organize similar efforts in medical school for a nursing home and homeless shelter on campus, and last year, for some of the patients in the hospital where I was working. So I was glad to come to Ann Arbor, where some of my small group members supported my vision to do more Christmas caroling, with people from different parts of my life, including friends from work and outside of my small group.
God works through music in amazing ways to inspire and heal. One of the awesome things about Christmas carols is how popularized they are. Though often overplayed on the radio, they have power in the words that stick in people’s minds and the images they evoke. As we sang on Monday, we could hear the nursing home residents singing along with us. One man, hunched over in a wheelchair mentioned “I’ve never heard these songs sung like that, with all the parts,” and clearly was glad to have heard our sparsely poplulated, soprano-heavy version.
But balance, schmalance. As we sang, I heard little of how the group sounded and focused on the residents. The joy on their faces was clear and even better expressed as we made passed out freshly-baked cookies (courtesy of the Jenny, Susan & roomies’ bakery) and made conversation. Not everyone was interested in conversation per se, and some we had to coax to speak. Still others were vocal about what they liked.
“Oh my, these cookies are yummy,” said a little old lady dressed in pink. Caring not that they had been “specially baked” for her, she continuously extolled the yummy-ness of the treats. Another man, who took to one of our bakers, confessed that he was a diabetic.
“That’s okay,” I said, ignoring my clinical instinct to remind him of what would happen to his blood sugar levels. “As long as you only had one. . .”
“One?!” He scoffed with a smile. “One for this hand. . . and one for each finger on the other. . .”
Twas a true blessing for all—to share smiles, be appreciated and be reminded of the meaning behind the words we sang. The holidays can be an ironically lonely time for many, despite the general focus on spending time with family and loved ones. Seeing these residents reminded me of the need to step outside myself and realize that though I currently have a wonderful community and family through which I feel loved, the blessings I have are not universally held. Hopefully, our time with the residents at Alterra helped to share the blessings of love and kinship we each possess. And hopefully this sort of sharing will extend into the new year. . .
Anyone up for musical performances at Alterra in the future? ;)