The sound of silence

Sorry it's been a while.
I know my last blog post was pretty grim (ok so they pretty much all have been recently) but hey work with what you've got right.
I did mean to post again and try and be a little more cheerful, but for one, that's easier said than done, and for two, I was feeling a little guilty about all of my emotional tirades without actually putting in the framework of our grief and honestly explaining all my rants and ravings to those of you who are actually still reading who don't already know.
Was feeling quite indulgent and arrogant about swimming in my frustration and pain when God knows there is a big huge world out there with MUCH larger problems, and from my first world little life that really is all together peaceful I should probably count my blessings on my fingers and toes, probably 4 or 5 times, and be quiet.
The sun has been shining, the birds have been singing, we've had good friends visiting, hanging out, eating, laughing, relaxing together, work is good, life is ticking on.
But I feel hollow, and that I can't deny.
I was given a ticket to a beautiful choral performance on Saturday night. It was the summer finale for the Vancouver Summer Chor, (Thanks Laura S!) a mishmash group of amazing singers from all over Vancouver who take a break from their more regular more structured choirs to sing and have fun together through the summer, and then end in one big performance, where on one hand they dazzle, and perform with excellence, and then on the other hand they invite members of the audience to come and sing favourite movements with them, welcoming others into their excellence, in a relaxed manor that seems so rare from more classical performances.
They did half the show with excerpts from Handel's Messiah (this was where audience participation was welcomed given the ubiquitous-ness of these pieces) and I have to admit I even chirped along to the soprano part of the Hallelujah Chorus (thanks to church choir for that one!) and it brought tears to my eyes. There were probably 150 people in the choir, and another 400 present to watch, and simply by the laws of averages there was a lot of heart break in that room. People sick, people dying, people grieving, people lost, people in the middle of life changing transition and adjustment. And then little old me, chirping along, and then melting back into a puddle to listen to the rest (including AMAZING presentations of Mozart's Requiem)

Now I know that I could get a lot of response about this, and sure, feel free to comment, I'd love a good discussion, but while I know that it's next to impossible that all the people singing there that night were really realising what they were singing, that there really was a camaraderie that was soul deep, in knowingly giving glory to God, it was still a hugely worshipful thing.
Even if they didn't know it, 400+ people were singing at the top of their lungs, Hallelujah to God in heaven! in the middle of Vancouver, one of the most secular and post-Christian cities I've ever lived, and know it or not, there was great spiritual significance to the whole night.

And it made me feel a little better.