When I was a little girl my mother would herd me and my 3 brothers into our wooden paneled station wagon and drive us on what seemed like an across America voyage, the 30 minute trek to Chautauqua Institution, to take in any ballet, symphony or orchestra that might be playing in the outdoor Amphitheater.
We squirmed in our seats, old wooden benches painted a pail yellow. My mother doled out Werther’s candies to quiet us. The wind rustled through the old oak trees. The sun began to go down, and as the sky passed through ever deepening shades of blue the strings of little glass ball lights began to come to life all around the border of the amphitheater seemingly adding to the shimmering stars in the night sky.
The house lights dimmed, a single note sang out through the crisp night air. Each instrument, as if unaware yet somehow in touch with every other, began its own drone tuning to each other. Each not venturing out on its own path; some randomly flying out into the dark then suddenly extinguishing, others lingering in the air continuously. A fluttering of unordered sounds gloriously playing with each other all about, building, escalating, exploding, then silence.
A spotlight revealed the conductor's arrival and followed his every movement as he made his way to the center stage, his podium. He took his place amidst great applause, bowed to the audience, then turned his attention to his orchestra. The excitement and anticipation that had been steadily building seemed to climax as he raised his batten. It was as if we all inhaled at once together. We held our breath. The night stood still. We all sat up straight and leaned in with glittering eyes wide open and ears peeled anxiously awaiting his cue. The music was about to begin.
If you have attended any of the past 7 gatherings at the Bay Area Easton campus, taken part in a time of prayer for the church Jesus is building here, or spoken with any of the team members in the past 6 months there has been an undeniable ever building crescendo of anticipation and excitement. There is dance of seemingly unchoreographed notes taking place. As we are approach our official launch this Resurrection Sunday the orchestra is furiously tuning and sending notes scurrying out into the air all around us. So much is taking place yet we've yet to even begin. We await the moment our conductor will appear in the light, silence all our individual preparations, raise His hands uniting us all in His song. We hold our breath. We press in. Eagerly, excitedly anticipating that in which we are about to take part.
The music is about to begin.
See you along the road. Deo Volenti,