God in cafeterias

I knew I was weepy yesterday, but I had no idea it would turn out to be a little too true.

J.J. was playing in a band assembly at another elementary school cafeteria and asked me to come and watch. Naturally I agreed, even though I will see the exact same concert twice next week at his school.

I guess it all started when the 6th grade girls’ chorus sang, “Ordinary Miracle.” Even hard core cynics begin to thaw at lyrics like:

“It’s not that usual when everything is beautiful
It’s just another ordinary miracle today
The sky knows when it’s time to snow
You don’t need to teach a seed to grow
It’s just another ordinary miracle today…”

I, being easily stirred, began to sniffle.

Of course, watching my own son, sitting upright in his chair with his fingers working adeptly at his saxophone and his foot tapping to the beat caused some eye leakage as well. I began to marvel at the opportunities we are afforded because of where we live and who we are, and then I began to mourn for every child in the world who doesn’t get the chance to play an instrument.

But the tears started rolling as I noticed a little boy with Downs Syndrome sitting to my left. He insisted on standing through the hour long assembly and one of the teacher’s aides tried to get him to sit down at first. But the lead teacher gave the aide a shake of her head – after all, he wasn’t hurting anyone and the only person whose sight line was interrupted was me – and I loved the sight of him.

At first he just stood very still, watching the instruments move and make their sounds. Slowly, however, he started to feel what he could see, and he began to sway and move his arms. After each number he would applaud enthusiastically, all while the lead teacher clapped along and smiled in encouragement.

I began to feel a blessing deep within me. It was a sense of wonder and enchantment as I sat and experienced these young musicians and what they are already contributing to the world. My heart was full for this fabulous teacher who patiently let a child be exactly who he is, in spite of the rules. But it was the boy who overwhelmed me - my sight being interrupted by a boy who had joy he could feel.

Children making music. A great teacher. Joy you can feel. Just another ordinary miracle yesterday.