| General Fiction posted July 21, 2024 | Chapters: |
...8 9 -10- 11... 
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Music is the universal language
A chapter in the book Detour
Common Bonds (Rachelle)
by Rachelle Allen
| Background GW Hargis and I are heading to NJ for an International FanStory Conference, when her car breaks down and leaves us stranded in Amish Country, PA. We are rescued by a family who arrives in two buggies. |
After dinner, I return to the house where Rebekah lives with her brothers. The boys each take a knife and wood scraps from a stockpile near the hearth then settle into two spindle-back chairs and immerse themselves in the fine art of whittling.
Rebekah pulls the top of a quilt onto her lap and reaches for a nearby needle and thread.
"Seven stitches per inch," I say and watch her look up with astonishment.
"How do you know that?" she asks.
"Because I make quilts, too, and love going to the Mennonite store in the next county from me for fabrics. They taught me that." I smile. "Would you trust me to join you?"
She hands over a fat quarter of solid blues and blacks, a needle and a spool of thread.
I tell her, "I heard you singing Amazing Grace this afternoon as you headed back to your house from the hot spring."
Her eyes dart quickly toward her brothers, who each stop whittling for a breath in time, then resume.
"You were given a beautiful gift," I say.
She looks up quickly, blushes, then looks back down, quickening her stitches.
"Solomon and Simeon, do you have this gift, as well? In real life, I'm a voice, flute and piano teacher, and I know that such gifts can oftentimes run in families."
"We are all in the church choir," Solomon answers.
I know from reading I've done that Amish voices can be raised in songs of worship, but any other forms are not considered "humble" and are not allowed.
"Family voices also blend well together," I say. "It's not uncommon for them to share a similar timbre, or tone quality."
No one's eyes are on me, but I can easily sense that their ears are fully engaged.
"Is Amazing Grace one of the songs your church choir is learning?" I ask.
They all nod enthusiastically.
"The music teacher in me would absolutely love to hear you sing it together. Think of it as doing me a kindness. I haven't heard anything beautiful since Gretchen's wonderful car, Old Reliable, broke down and the radio with it."
They smile in unison and look amongst each other, then stand shoulder-to-shoulder.
Rebekah begins:
Amazing Grace
How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch
Like me
Her brothers join in, harmonizing:
I once was lost,
But now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.
As I imagined, the timbres are identical, so they blend like a pipe organ in a majestic European cathedral - full, round, even tones that melt me like apple butter on Amish hot cakes.
Their eyes are closed, but their souls are lying before me as open and vulnerable as newborn lambs. A swarm of goosebumps percolates up my spine then prickles across my head, igniting the part in my hair. Tears come flooding down my cheeks, just as they do when my own students play so well that I cannot contain the beauty of their talent.
The trio opens their eyes and startles at my reaction to their impromptu performance.
"Look at the joy you have evoked in me," I tell them, swiping my index finger beneath my lower lid. "I cannot thank you enough for this treasure you have bestowed."
"Our maam used to cry whenever we sang, too," says Rebekah.
"Did she also sing?" I ask.
"Yes, she was our choir leader," Simeon says softly.
"Our daed had a nice voice, too," Solomon adds. "Very deep."
"Yours is, too," I tell him. "Deep and rich and soothing." There is a pause before I ask, "Who's leading the choir now?"
"No one," says Simeon.
I ponder that a moment then ask, "Would you be willing to allow me to teach you some songs and some choral conducting techniques in these next days until the sheriff returns and Gretchen and I can use a phone and be on our way?"
The three exchange quick, uncomfortable glances.
"Look," I begin, "I know I'm an Englisher, but I'm also a singer and a teacher. Do you think it's a coincidence that G-d put us here together in this situation? Let's think about that." I look from one to another and give them Warm Teacher eyes. "What I can provide will enable you to have music for your choir again." They're standing there like participants in a game of Freeze Tag who haven't been touched yet to enable them to return to the action. I try another tack. "Of all the places between Baltimore and New Jersey that Old Reliable could have broken down, she did so here, where another red-haired woman, who sang and knew how to conduct a church choir, was taken to Heaven just a month before. There's no way that's a coincidence." I stop for a beat then add, "That's G-d's hand on all of our shoulders." The siblings' expressions become simultaneously overcome, yet unreadable.
I continue on, softly. "What I'm being given, in return, is the pleasure to meet all of you and repay you for your generous hospitality. If it weren't for you being in the right place exactly when we needed you most - and that, by the way, was no coincidence, either - Gretchen and I could have been in serious trouble, and probably even danger."
I let a few moments of silence pass. Finally, I add, "I'm sure you know Psalm 100: Make a joyful noise unto the Lord?"
Their smiles warm me to the innermost chambers of my soul.
I reach out with both my hands, and the four of us link in a circle and bow our heads. "We thank you for making this gift of friendship possible, G-d," I say and am filled up at once with emotion as I hear these three gifted gingers chorus, "Amen."
Amish life is so beautiful and satisfying...even if I am standing here in flat shoes, an apron and a huge, long, blue button-down dress because the goats ate all my clothes! I would not have wanted to miss this moment for all the haute couture in Paris.
 Recognized |
#9 July 2024 |
Although our story is fiction, there are elements of truth that both Gretchen and I weave into all of our chapters. In this one: that I am a voice, flute and piano teacher, and I do, indeed, quilt.
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