The Art: "Lux Aeterna" by Edward Elgar, live at the Gresham Centre in London
This gorgeous piece of choral music was brought to me by my step-mother, Vicki Burrichter, who directs the Boulder Chorale. "I like the idea of 'eternal light' during this time of darkness," she said when I asked for a recommendation. I couldn't agree more. I also like the idea of singing together, which you all have done so beautifully this week, both on the forum and in your own quiet writing practice -- singing back to the artists and artworks. So this final prompt will be the most open of them all: Listen as many times as you like. Write what comes. Share if you're moved to. It has been such and honor and inspiration to read your words. Thank you for singing together in these times.
If you walked out the front door of my childhood home you’d see the cross hanging on the wall in Pastor Mary Jane‘s apartment. She was the pastor of Balboa Union Church, a predominantly Protestant church famous for its potlucks and the ping pong table in the youth room. Balboa Union Church was next door to the left of my home-we shared a fence. Our neighbors to the right (also sharing a fence) were the priests that held communions, baptisms and really long wedding ceremonies at St. Mary’s Catholic Church. St. Mary’s was efficiently a covered walkway away from their side door. My mom joked we lived on Holy Hill while my dad and I joked that we didn’t have to go to church because it was coming at us from all directions (although we did attend Balboa Union Church and would have epic ping pong battles in that youth room).
Sunday mornings were always particularly exciting. Both churches’ sermons started at the same time and being late would require a long walk up “Holy Hill,” so parking spots would start to fill up before I even started breakfast. I would people watch through the living room window, cereal in hand, comparing their Sunday best dresses to mine.
Most of my friends went to St. Mary’s and the Priests apparently talked much longer than Pastor Mary Jane because we were always out of church before my Catholic friends were. This gave me plenty of time to munch on a few cookies from the Congregation Hall and politely smile as older members told me how much I’d grown (like they did every Sunday) before I would excuse myself and run up to my front yard. It was there that I‘d wait to wave at my friends leaving St. Mary’s, them waving back from the backseats of their parent’s long cars. Sunday’s were fun!
How different it must be for a child living in that house now. Today is Sunday, but the parking spots are empty. There are no cookies in the Congregation Hall and everyone is worried about the older church members. Worse, there are no friends to wave to from the front yard.