The Leader of the Band

Our wind ensemble was scheduled today to play at a nursing home in Carrollton. I was tired. Last night's concert was the Big Hurrah of the year -- we had worked very hard, practicing, slugging through many months of difficult rehearsals and practices at home. I loved the choices our fearless leader, Terry Lowry, had made for this concert. It was an eclectic mix of music -- big band, swing, marches, Spanish music, even Beethoven. A large crowd showed up at the outdoor amphitheater in Carrollton and loved it. I believe it was our best concert yet. 

So after all that, and a fractious morning at home with a sick Papa Bear to the urgent care...I really didn't feel like driving all the way back over to play at a nursing home. I (ashamedly) felt like it wouldn't be appreciated. But I dragged myself to the car and headed south. Halfway there, a thunderstorm erupted and the bottom fell out. Cars were pulling over all around me, hazards blazing. I pulled over to a gas station and whipped around to the next road so I could catch the red light and go on back home. 

Suddenly I was hit with my selfish heart. I was really looking for an excuse to take the day off. We'd already missed church and eaten what we should not have for breakfast. I thought of Ken's grandparents and their last years. Years that were so terrible, lived out in a nursing home, chipped away and dying by inches. Tiny morsels of joy rare, sometimes non-existent. I thought of them and took the road to the nursing home. As we set up, I think we were all weary, tired, hot, sweaty, cranky. The sky threatened but didn't rain there. We finally got to our playing. It sounded beautiful, timeless. The old folks out on the porch smiled. Some napped. It was over in a flash. The word came that our leader's old band director was there at the home, bed-ridden and in a bad way. Terry had us carry our horns and music around the lawn, to an open window where the band director sat in his bed, surrounded by smiling nurses. We set up and began playing that rousing Sousa piece, "Stars and Stripes Forever," surely every high school band director's favorite march. The old man raised his hands and swayed with the music, tears rolling down his face. He laughed and clapped, so grateful for the moment. For that was what it was...just a few moments. A small piece of time, of thought. My heart was smote with how the cracks in the sidewalk, those places where sand can sift through...the dashes of moments that we give little credence to, those are where the riches, the goodies, of life can often be found.