Adagio
Stories
Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit
Series III, Cycle C
He could barely lift his head from his chest. Oh, but how the music moved him. Adagio. Slow. With a certain grace.
Slow seemed to describe him these days. After a stroke left him partially paralyzed, he had to move around in a wheelchair. Or rather, he was moved around. Bless his two grandsons, he thought, as he thought of all the times they were so willing to wheel him around. It was slow going.
Adagio. She was almost finished playing the piece. She had played it to perfection. But she always did. It had been their favorite piece. He the director; she the accompanist.
Those were the days. For almost forty years they had directed Christian college choirs around the country. They would spend six weeks each summer working with eager young men and women at choir camps, teaching them about their voices, the music, and the composers.
His favorite time was leading morning devotions and talking with the students about the texts from the music. They were so willing to learn and so eager to share their thoughts. He felt blessed by their observations from Scriptures and the interpretations and questions.
It's been a good life, he thought. Music speaks to the soul, and he always felt privileged that the music was such a big part of his life.
She finished her piece. He tried to lift his head up but couldn't. He looked up and caught her eye. She bowed. He smiled.
Adagio.
Slow seemed to describe him these days. After a stroke left him partially paralyzed, he had to move around in a wheelchair. Or rather, he was moved around. Bless his two grandsons, he thought, as he thought of all the times they were so willing to wheel him around. It was slow going.
Adagio. She was almost finished playing the piece. She had played it to perfection. But she always did. It had been their favorite piece. He the director; she the accompanist.
Those were the days. For almost forty years they had directed Christian college choirs around the country. They would spend six weeks each summer working with eager young men and women at choir camps, teaching them about their voices, the music, and the composers.
His favorite time was leading morning devotions and talking with the students about the texts from the music. They were so willing to learn and so eager to share their thoughts. He felt blessed by their observations from Scriptures and the interpretations and questions.
It's been a good life, he thought. Music speaks to the soul, and he always felt privileged that the music was such a big part of his life.
She finished her piece. He tried to lift his head up but couldn't. He looked up and caught her eye. She bowed. He smiled.
Adagio.
