Mas de Ti in Half Moon Bay

We arrived at the local Methodist Church in our finest dress clothes. Roddy and Ian wore new slacks and pressed white dress shirts. I was in my red blouse that amazes me with its ability to transform my typical house-maker look. Life on the coast is pretty casual, but last night felt special. We had been invited to perform with our church’s choir at a Christmas gathering of coastside choirs. We honored the invitation by making ourselves beautiful.

Detlef, the choir master, provided each of us with a gold, hand-painted silk scarf as a thread to tie us all together. We needed it. Our crew was a collection of farmers, local rock musicians, artists, prep and public school children, and Silicon Valley business people who share a love for that special something that happens in the small coastside community of Pescadero. While we waited for all of us to arrive, Roddy, Ian and I played with ways of wrapping ourselves up in the extravagant gift that flowed from a Magi’s sight.

When it was our turn to perform, Detlef explained to the audience that we were singing a song in Spanish as a way of honoring the ancient couple that had to travel to their homeland to register with the authorities and as a way of honoring the fact that the ancient drama is still played out in the lives of our Mexican neighbors who come to our communities fleeing extreme poverty or oppressive governments.

Up until then, I had heard our song “More of thee, Less of me” as a mystical pondering about the way that the human heart can open to the larger mystery of love when the ego finds its proper place in the psyche. As Detlef spoke, I felt again the connection between the mystery of incarnation and my life’s commitment to respond to the global realities of our time in a way that finds connection where the systems of our world seek to divide.

My eight year old’s voice was the first one to ring through the church. I was surprised by the fullness of his voice. Naturally shy, Ian typically sings quietly. Detlef had taken time to coach him in proper breathing, so when he opened his mouth, his thrill at being invited to solo came through. Later, my older son sang the second verse alone perfectly. Standing behind them, I could not witness the way they embodied the music. This time I delighted in the bright smiles in the faces of the adults in the pews watching my boys.

When we got to the part of the song, where the discipline of early refrains gives way to joy, we surrendered to the fullness of the sound and had fun.

Later, back in our seats, I was aware of how privileged I felt to be a part of this crew. I loved the way everyone was welcome. I loved the fact that we did not need to be perfect to be wonderful. And I loved the fact that the children got to shine. What a gift to be invited to sing in the choir of the love at Christmas time!