Every Wednesday evening, I get into my car and drive south on I75. I don’t go far. Two exits. My destination: St. Joseph’s Church close to downtown Cincinnati.
I first came to St. Joseph’s Church one Sunday morning, I was feeling really sad and depressed. I had just returned from a Lenten Tour, my first since my father’s passing. I had had a hard time moving away from the Cross. I had lingered there at the place of sadness, not willing to let go, afraid of accepting my loss and moving on.
I came to St. Joseph’s that Sunday because someone had told me about their amazing African American choir. I needed music, deeply spiritual music to heal my heart. I wore my best day-dress, Matthew had on a tie and our boys were in nice button down shirts and khaki pants. I was pretty sure that everyone there would be all dressed up. We sat near the choir. I wanted to hear them and be close enough to feel their energy. I was ready to clap my hands and sing without any inhibition.
The music started and a beautiful woman came up to the altar, greeted everyone and said a prayer. “I don’t want to wait till a better day comes, to thank you, Lord. I want to thank you right now. I don’t want to wait till I am healed to thank you. I want to thank you right now. I don’t want to wait till I get that job that will help feed my family to thank you, Lord. I want to thank you right now…”
The choir sang, the priest (an older priest who could clap pretty well for a white guy) seemed to enjoy the mass as much as they did – talking his time, letting them take their time and sing many verses as he sang with them. I could not hold back the tears. I was sobbing most of the mass. I tried to hide my sobs from my boys. I felt like my father was right there sitting on that pew with me, holding me close and whispering into my heart: “It’s all going to be just fine. I am here. I will always be here. Even when you can’t see me I am right here.” That Sunday, I did not sing. Not a single note.
That day was one I will never forget. I felt as if I was lifted up from the place where I stood in tears and carried over to a place where there was a perpetual party going on. A place wherre life was good in spite of all of life’s hardships and losses.
I also think that the choir and the whole community reminded me of the Croatia where I grew up and the way we used to get together and sing. My Dad would always take his guitar every time we went to visit someone or have a party and we would all sing in the same uninhibited way, enjoying the simple pleasure of being together and making magical memories out of nothing but a few voices and an old guitar.
It’s been a little over a year now since my first visit to St. Joe’s. I had asked a friend of mine, another wonderful music minister Jim McCormick, to connect me with their leader Maestro Wylie Howell.
Wednesday rehearsals have become my prayer evenings.
Last week as I sang, Wylie said to me: “Let His Light fill you up. Let HIs Light be the one thing you will share with others. Because He is not on the cross any more, He is in Heaven, He is with you and me right now, right here.” He coached me until something inside of me changed – I felt as if until now I had only walked beside my Lord, or watched Him suffer and felt His pain. Until now, I had looked at Him from down below, on my knees, broken by my struggling soul. But now, as I sang at St. Joe’s I felt God within me – shining like a blazing light through me.
I can not wait for this Concert.