It was bound to happen

It was bound to happen. This last Thursday, as I opened my music cubby I noticed new music waiting for me. This is not uncommon. Music flows in and out like clockwork really. But when I looked closer I noticed the lettering and I took a double take. It was Consider the Lillies. I know I stopped breathing for a bit. I began to feel tears swell up in my eyes but I held them back. I took a deep breath and felt as though this was another sign from heaven. There are no coincidences in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and I'm learning first hand that Mack Wilberg's comments when I started this journey are absolutely true. Everything happens for a reason.

I knew this song was in the repertoire of the choir but I didn't think they would be singing it this soon.

I grabbed the music and headed off to take my test. I will talk more about the test in another post.

To understand the significance of this experience you will have to understand my relationship to this song and to my family.

In 2000 my father was sick. In April we took him to LDS hospital. He had been sick since January and things progressively got worse over time. My father had accepted that it was time for him to go but we, his children, family and the Tongan community as a whole prayed and fasted for him to get well. My father, remained calm and collected, always testifying of how much the Lord loves us. He planned his funeral service with us in the room. I was to speak and he asked me to sing Consider the Lillies. It was a favorite song of his since he heard me sing it a few years earlier. He liked it so much I ended up singing it at various firesides, at my friends farewell and for my brother's farewell. I stopped singing it even though he asked me to do it over the years but I just didn't want to do it anymore. When he asked while his life was fading away I prepared myself.

My father passed on May 2, 2000. During his service I spoke first. As the speakers continued to follow I waited for my turn to sing. When it was my turn I walked up and as I began to sing it was as if I was conveying the message of hope to everyone and especially to me. In a way it was like my father was bearing his testimony to trust in the Lord.

I have not sung Consider the Lillies since his passing. In two weeks it will have been 14 years.

Time has allowed me to accept my grief but it has not erased it. There are still moments that the sting of his death is just as painful as the day he passed; the day I got married, the day I graduated from college, the birth of my daughter, etc.

Since that time I have heard Consider the Lillies sung by others and I have heard the choir sing it. Beautiful. The words are a balm to my soul but I cannot bring myself to sing it. Instead I listen, soaking in every word and being blessed by the message. When I hear it I feel like my father is with me. Music has a powerful way of connecting us to those who have passed beyond the veil.

I learned yesterday that the choir is singing Consider the Lillies on Easter Sunday. Easter Sunday. It is not lost on me the significance of this "coincidence." Christ. The resurrection. The hope of a future beyond death. It has been hard to control my emotions.

I let my family know of what happened and they were all equally moved by this tender mercy. My sister even commented how my dad would be so happy to see my surprised face as I opened the music locker.  Singing with the choir is an experience he would have loved to have and now I get to have it. Maybe that is why I feel him close to me when I am at choir.

I'll prepare myself for next week and at the same time give thanks for the plan of salvation and the Savior. If you see tears rolling down my face next week, you now know why.