North Mountain Chorus Sings 2012

North Mountain Chorus sings, and I find myself singing with them. I have never fancied myself a singer. The only place I can imagine myself musically inclined is rocking wee babies to sleep, with lullabies.

And here I find myself dressed in black, like those around me, with unfamiliar bling around my neck, trilling away with the best of them.

That is the point. The less than expert trillers can trill, when they find themselves surrounded by the voices of fine trillers. 

There we were, standing on risers at the front of the United Church, down the mountain, in the nearby town. We were making a joyful noise that was welcomed not only in ourselves, but by the many listeners as well.

I have always thought that perfection sucks, or as my late mother would prefer me to say, perfection isn't everything. There is no question near perfection is sometimes required; however, the hands of a potter or the hands of a weaver create objects touched by hearts, that no machine manufacturing the physically perfect object can ever produce. 

The joy of singing enters songs. The strong singers clear a path for the less strong singers to move along. The voices are joined together in a hall up the mountain, where we practise each week. Here freedom is given each voice a chance to sing well enough to release joy into the songs, that is released into a world badly in need of joy.