Beautiful music always makes me cry.
But, I held back the tears pretty well throughout our entire Jubilate choir rehearsal until I saw his name. Eric Kallis. Immediately tears filled my eyes as I remembered kneeling at the altar of the First United Methodist Church in Moscow, Idaho, along with the rest of my third grade confirmation class. Pastor Kallis was the man who prayed over me, instructed me, welcomed me to the church and in honor of me joining the church, handed me my first Bible – a Bible I still have today.
I remember little of Pastor Kallis, except his flowing robes, graying hair and soft-spoken voice. It was kneeling at the altar under his leadership that I first experienced the overwhelming presence of God and was moved to tears – tears of anticipation, tears of joy, tears of significance I could not put into words. And Pastor Kallis was part of that experience – my first sense of calling into the ministry.
As the tears fell onto the paper I held in my hands – a paper listing the names of previous Jubilate choir members who had passed away – a paper with names I did not recognize except Pastor Kallis – I listened as we were encouraged to focus on “home.”
Home. Immediately my mind shifted away from our rehearsal location in downtown Seattle, away from childhood memories in northern Idaho, to eastern Montana and the faces of my husband and children came into view. Home. Home is the place you fit. The place you can be yourself. The place you are known, you are wanted and you are loved.
A memory from a previous Jubilate choir trip to Zimbabwe was shared. “When you come off the plane, you are warmly greeted with the words ‘Welcome home!'”
I tried to picture such a warm welcome from people I don’t know in a country where I’ve never been, and the anticipation of our imminent arrival into Zimbabwe heightened. Soon my experience of “home” will expand to include a new continent, a new country, a new people, a new culture. And yet, the definition of home will remain the same. Home is the place you fit. The place you can be yourself. The place you are known, you are wanted and you are loved.
Wiping away the tears – tears of anticipation, tears of joy, tears of significance I could yet again not put into words – the paper on my lap again caught my attention. Each name representing an individual who had gone home – home to that place where we most fit. Where we can most be ourselves. That place where we are known, we are wanted and we are loved.
As if in a beautifully orchestrated harmony, “home” came full circle. Here I sat in Seattle, a pastor passionate about guiding individuals toward knowing their true home, a calling on my life first experienced in a church pastored by a previous Jubilate choir member. And now I too have the opportunity to share in the experience of being a Jubilate choir member and being welcomed home to Zimbabwe. Again the tears fell.
Beautiful music always makes me cry.
