This post was first published in March 2008.
On Easter Sunday, our family attended the church I belonged to for most of my youth. In the past few years, we’ve only gone to church a handful of times, unwilling to commit to a congregation during our family’s various moves. But on Easter, the tradition in the music is so moving, it envelopes me throughout the service — the familiarity of the songs I’ve sung for more than three decades.
I graduated with one of the musicians in this church, and in the past when I’ve come to listen to my mom sing in the choir, I’ve always been mesmerized by his inspirational trumpeting. This Sunday, as the congregation began to sing one of my traditional favorites — “Now All the Vault of Heaven Resounds” — it wasn’t our collective voice that inspired me. It wasn’t the power of the beautiful pipe organ. But rather, it was the majestic, yet humble and understated sound of his trumpet, barely audible during most of the hymn, but awesome in the few notes at the end of a verse. And by the final chorus, I was gripped by such overwhelming emotion that I had to stop singing, so my voice wouldn’t betray me and call attention to the tears streaming down my cheeks.
With my eyes, I searched for my musician friend throughout these songs, attempting to watch him work his inspirational magic over us. But, true to form, he remained hidden behind the choir, serving us only by sound. And when he stood up for communion, I noticed him and watched him set down his trumpet — and his handsome 12-year-old son did the same. You see, it’s no longer a single trumpet sounding. Now it’s two.
What a gift to stand beside your son and deliver the Holy Spirit to so many sinners like me.
And what a powerful way to pass the torch…
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7:30 am
Kinda strange – YOU drifted away from the church, and the church drifted away from ME – - both the minister and choir director leaving at the same time. I’m one who has to be comfortable in my pew or choir loft, and I confess there is only ONE Easter Sunday of importance to me right now – - and that’s the one that YOU WERE BORN ON!
But Happy Easter anyway!
M.D.
12:01 pm
I remember this one!
Hugs,
Holly
4:58 pm
now that is sweet… father & son trumpeters.
I recall you talking about the trumpet once before.