When Angels Sing
Angels can fly directly into the
heart of the matter.
~Author Unknown
Two days before her school program,
my youngest announced, “I’m singing ‘Silent Night.’” Having raised two
daughters ahead of her, I knew nine-year-olds aren’t particularly great on
details. I delved deeper.
“Right
now?” I asked.
“Nope, in
the play. I’m singing solo,” she proudly proclaimed.
“What is
solo?”—doing a vocab check to see if she knew what she was saying. Turns out
she did. And that puzzled me. Charlotte loved to sing. She sang in the shower
and the car and just about everywhere else. But, my baby had been partially
tone deaf since she first opened her mouth. She could carry a tune a bit better
now than last year or even the year before. Actually, I fully expected her
musical ear to reach a level very close to normalcy as she grew older, but I
didn’t think she’d improved enough yet to sing a solo. Not wanting to voice any
lack of confidence in her abilities and reminding myself that all things are
indeed possible, especially in grade school, I stopped questioning.
•••
Even though our oldest had already
moved away from home, I still housed two teenagers. We picked up an extra one
along the way. Due
to her family’s sudden and
unavoidable job relocation, my middle daughter’s best friend was living with us
until the end of the school year. Forty-eight hours after Charlotte’s
announcement, the proverbial plot thickened. I temporarily forgot teenagers can
be worse than nine-year-olds when it comes to details. Both Monica, my
daughter, and Corina, our temporary daughter, admitted that they also were to
take part in a Christmas program on the same night as Charlotte. Corina was to
sing a solo as well. Monica was to play a piano piece. The new question formed:
how was I to be in two places at one time? My break came when I found out the
older girls would be performing an hour later than the younger. I could try for
both!
•••
Something had gone dreadfully wrong.
Charlotte stood facing me in the auditorium five minutes after I had dropped
her backstage. Her little eyes glistened with unshed tears and her mouth
quivered so violently she couldn’t speak.
“What
happened, baby?” I couldn’t imagine.
Just then
the teacher approached.
“Mrs.
Stiles, there’s been a mistake. Charlotte wasn’t picked to sing with the choir
tonight and somehow she’s gotten the idea she is to sing a solo. I’m afraid
there is no part cast for her. I feel just terrible about this.”
Looking
into my child’s grief-stricken face and feeling a mother’s rage, I thought: You
don’t know how terrible you’re about to feel after I get done with you!
“Mama, can
we go?” Her little voice finally broke through in utter anguish.
“Of course
we can, baby,” I said, tossing the teacher an I’ll-deal-with-you-later look. My
first concern now was how to mend my daughter’s wounded heart.
•••
Teenagers may be lousy at time with
details, but they tend to pay attention to those who enter and leave their
immediate environment. I think that comes from a wariness that they might get caught
doing what they ought not to be doing. It took all of three minutes for both
girls to figure out that we were in the high school auditorium. I offered to
skip the program and take Charlotte for an ice cream, but she wanted to see her
sister and Corina perform.
“You guys
are here early.” They resembled two parrots. Their heads darted back and forth
between Charlotte and me in unison. Perched on the backs of the seats in front
of us they waited, clearly expecting an explanation. I quickly and briefly hit
the high points, wary of starting a new avalanche of tears. Sincere sympathy
splashed up from the countenance of both girls.
“Come with
us, Charlotte. You can see backstage and meet our friends.”
The
invitation to go hang out with the “cool” kids beat any flavor of ice
cream—anywhere. I nodded my blessing and they disappeared.
•••
I completely forgot about picking up
a program when I entered the building. I had no way of knowing in what order
the girls would be performing. But, after the second act, Corina walked out to
center stage. Then, she looked left and held out her hand. Out walked
Charlotte. The auditorium fell silent at the sight of a younger child. The
music started, Charlotte looked up and at Corina’s nod, my baby began to softly
sing “Silent Night.” Corina’s smooth soprano joined her in just enough volume
to cover any mistakes. The combination was ethereal. Both sang to a captivated
audience. I wasn’t the only one with tears running down my cheeks.
Somewhere
during their duet, Monica’s hand slipped into mine and we celebrated the true
meaning of Christmas together. All of my previous agitation slipped away as I
watched this magnificent moment orchestrated by God.
They
simply and silently walked off stage when they were done, receiving a standing
ovation as they went. Corina returned alone to do her originally planned solo.
It was then I realized there was more to this Christ-filled moment than we saw
being performed.
“Monica,
why aren’t you backstage?” I whispered.
“Don’t
need to be,” she said grinning. “I gave up my piano piece so the squirt could
sing.”
How many
times had I seen my two girls argue, bicker and fight? Too many to count. I
couldn’t recall one time when I’d heard one tell the other “I love you” with
any sort of sincerity in their voices. Until now. Not in words, but deed. My
Christmas was complete before we ever went to church or opened gifts or shared
our family meal. I had already witnessed the miracle of three angels singing.
~Melanie
Stiles
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