Another bleugh sort of a day. I almost didn’t want to go to choir tonight. It all just felt like it was a bit too much.
But, being a good, committed chorister, I took the bus and trudged up the hill (in the frigid rain, blown by a chill wind which made me think of Melbourne at its grey, bleak best) up to the Cathedral for my rehearsal. Head down, shoulders hunched in my light summer clothing (it was warm when I left the house at half-past seven this morning!), wishing that I could just go home.
Only to be greeted in the Cathedral car park by a friend, another chorister who I haven’t seen for three weeks. She came flying out of the door of the choristers’ vestry, through the rain, and gave me hug, then – still standing there in the rain – proceeded to deluge me in friendship and in words. Vibrant, lively, energetic words. Loving words. Right there in the rain, in her excitement she gave me an infusion of energy. A reminder of why I do this, of what is at stake. Of just how blessed I am to be part of this group of people every single week. For the first time all day, my smile was genuine. When I walked into the choristers’ vestry, I was greeted with less exuberance but just as much warmth by another friend, and for the first time all day my heart was full. I hadn’t seen either of these girls, dear friends, for three weeks; I’d missed them, and my soul leapt to see them.
No matter how my week is, no matter how little energy I’ve got or how much I just want to crawl home and forget the world exists, I walk into that room, among those people, and knots I didn’t even know had formed in my mind and heart smooth and unravel. Tension I didn’t know I’d been carrying eases. Points of pain I’ve become so used to find relief. It doesn’t matter how hard the rehearsal is – I leave infused with something unidentifiable, but something that’s enough to see me through whatever the next week will bring. I leave hoping that I might contribute enough to balance what I receive from my friends, but knowing that this is too much to hope for and in some ways not the point of it all. I leave reminded of how much I love these people, and knowing that I am loved. I leave grateful.