It’s the end of the school year and you know what that means?
Concerts and award ceremonies.
Tim and I have been to both this week.
The thing is our high school band can rock a house. Seriously. You should see those piano players — three of them — all guys. They know how to put on a show that, if it were in New Orleans, would have had the crowd tossing beads and dollar bills.
I’ve been going to band concerts for some 30 years, this was the best I’ve ever heard. The thing was these kids loved what they were doing. Loved it. And it showed.
They joyed in what they were doing. (Why isn’t joy a verb instead of a noun?)
There are several types of bands, of course. There’s the percussion band, the jazz band, the concert band, etc.The concert band here is audition only. Meaning they don’t take anybody with an instrument. You really have to know how to play it, first.
In that concert band are several people who play the flute. One of them is blind. Completely blind. She can’t see the director. Can’t see him counting them in, or that ta-da moment when he stops them. She can’t see her fellow band members. Can’t see when they rest their flutes on their laps, or when they pick it back up.
She is totally on her own.
The only possible way for her to know what to do in a concert is by listening.
Her ears are her eyes.
It’s how she sees the world.
What a gift.
To know how to move in synchronicity with each other, how to create something beautiful together simply by listening to and trusting in the one who directs us all.