Then Sings My Soul......
A lot of people write about music. They write about how much they love the sound of it, how good the singer is or maybe even about how cute the drummer or guitarist is. I've read quotes upon quotes based off of lyrics that have meant something to someone throughout their life or how a singer has inspired them as a person. But, very rarely do people write about their in-depth relationship with music. How it truly changed their lives or kept them going through the rough patches of life. Well, I'd like to change that. So, here is my story...or rather here is the story about the music in me.
It started when I was younger, a little crooked tooth, crazy haired girl. My dad was really the one that started my passion for singing. If anyone knows my father they know that he basically survives off of three main things. Jesus, Starbucks and music! I was about 2 or 3 years old when I first really sang, or probably tried to sing, along with my daddy. If his old age hasn't taken his memory yet then I guess I can say, according to him, that the first two songs I ever truly sang were "It Would Be You" by Gary Allan and "Chasin' That Neon Rainbow" by Alan Jackson. (I think it's safe to say that's where my love of country music came from....and my dad may have had an obsession with artists whose name included A(l)lan in them haha.) I started and never stopped. My parents saw my passion for singing, how the talent God gave me ran through my veins. They encouraged me each day to keep singing, and to learn more and more about music and what it can do for ones soul. In second grade is when it all really started to take off. Someone mentioned an organization to my mom, it was called Summit Choral Society. It was an organization created to teach young musicians how to properly use the gift God had blessed them with. I promptly tried out and was accepted! I went through each level...T1, T2, T3, T4, T4 again (I struggled a tiny bit with sight singing....) Concert Choir and then....the best days of my life started with Touring Choir.
Throughout life one may think they know about something, but in reality they really don't. For example, I thought I knew about music, about how it was created and how it made people feel. But....I was wrong. As I got older I began to feel the lyrics, not just sing them. I was taught by many directors to use very prominent facial expressions while singing. Being young when I first started out, and through the awkward teenage years, I thought they were out to make us all look weird. I didn't use much facial expression, I merely just sang the songs and listened to the harmonies. When I finally joined TC (Touring Choir) that's when I began to really feel the music. We were all encouraged to tell the story with our faces as we sang beautiful songs. It took my experience with music to a whole new level. I will never forget a concert we had in New York. It was our last concert on tour and I stood there, singing beside close friends, with tears streaming down my face as I sang of a goodbye. It wasn't until after the song was finished, and my eyes were finally able to see through the tears that I realized the crowd we were singing to had now stood up, and just like us, were holding hands and crying. That's when I knew, music was more than just singing, or listening, or feeling. It was about truly feeling, it was about baring your soul for others to see, it was about communicating. I will also never forget the words below in this picture I've added. There is a poem by Emily Dickinson named "Hope Is The Thing With Feathers." If you haven't guessed already it tells a story of hope and how although we give up on it sometimes it never gives up on us. We sang this for Dr. and Mrs. Jacobs young granddaughter who was battling cancer. She danced around and around as we sang it and there was not a dry eye amongst the singers, pianist, director or audience that day. Those memories of how music can change a heart, give us hope or help us communicate to complete strangers, will forever be etched in my mind.
Mrs. Arlene Jacobs and Dr. Frank Jacobs. Those precious names will forever be embedded in my mind as well. You see, Dr. Jacobs was there for me since second grade. Since little awkward Nina played the piano and sang for him. He knew me, he knew every kid that was part of his beloved SCS. He walked around to practices and listened in, he would stop us in the hallway to genuinely ask how we were doing and he knew us all by name. Now, Mrs. Jacobs, she was there through one of my toughest experiences in life. I will never forget how much she believed in the music that was inside of me.
It was a Saturday practice on February 19th of 2011, we were mid song when suddenly everything stopped. The piano, Mrs. Jacobs directing hands and our voices. I turned around to find my grandmother trying to grab my attention and I knew it was time. You see, my mother had been put on bedrest due to some complications with her pregnancy of my youngest sister. That morning on my way to practice I was warned that little Mia may be born that day and to keep my eye out during practice. I promptly left rehearsal that morning and my little miracle sister was born. Now, without going into too much detail (because of course I want to save the story for another blog post that's beginning to form in my already overloaded brain) my family and I ended up in Michigan for 11 1/2 months as Mia fought for her life and went through many surgeries. As a 14 year old who had just been pulled out of public school, because she decided she wanted to homeschool, you can imagine that in my mind my world was spiraling out of control. But one thing remained. Music. I was four, agonizingly painful (okay, so that's a bit dramatic. But try to remember people I was only 14...) hours away from all of my choir friends and my sheets of lovely music. Mrs. Jacobs never gave up on me though. She fought for me, for my passion. She knew I needed music in my life, and so she decided to work with me. As much as I could I would grab rides from friends and relatives so I could occasionally come to practices. I sat for countless hours with my mother or even alone at the Ronald McDonald House's piano trying to learn my parts. I met with MJ (Mrs. Jacobs) as much as I possibly could in order to make sure I knew my music. I clung to it, to my passion. Everything in the hospital was always wish-washy. There were never normal days, everything changed all the time. But music, it stayed solid. It was always there. I than began to sing for people at the hospital every Thursday evening (and once again I'm saving that for another blog! Sorry!) After a few months I realized that tour was approaching. Not just any tour, my first tour. It would be to Canada and I DID NOT want to miss it! We discussed it with MJ and she kindly agreed that if I worked extra hard I would still be allowed on tour. The next thing you know I'm on a tour bus with all my friends singing my heart out to a bunch of maple syrup Canadians!
I needed that. That tour, that music, that push to follow my passion. When my world was spiraling out of control my musical life was holding me together. Music was there for me, to keep me feeling, to keep me pushing, to give me a sense of hope. There is only one way I can ever thank music, and that's by sharing my gift with others. So if you're walking around town and pass a shy girl humming softly to herself, just know that it's the story of the music in me. Listen closely, it could start speaking to you too.
It started when I was younger, a little crooked tooth, crazy haired girl. My dad was really the one that started my passion for singing. If anyone knows my father they know that he basically survives off of three main things. Jesus, Starbucks and music! I was about 2 or 3 years old when I first really sang, or probably tried to sing, along with my daddy. If his old age hasn't taken his memory yet then I guess I can say, according to him, that the first two songs I ever truly sang were "It Would Be You" by Gary Allan and "Chasin' That Neon Rainbow" by Alan Jackson. (I think it's safe to say that's where my love of country music came from....and my dad may have had an obsession with artists whose name included A(l)lan in them haha.) I started and never stopped. My parents saw my passion for singing, how the talent God gave me ran through my veins. They encouraged me each day to keep singing, and to learn more and more about music and what it can do for ones soul. In second grade is when it all really started to take off. Someone mentioned an organization to my mom, it was called Summit Choral Society. It was an organization created to teach young musicians how to properly use the gift God had blessed them with. I promptly tried out and was accepted! I went through each level...T1, T2, T3, T4, T4 again (I struggled a tiny bit with sight singing....) Concert Choir and then....the best days of my life started with Touring Choir.
Throughout life one may think they know about something, but in reality they really don't. For example, I thought I knew about music, about how it was created and how it made people feel. But....I was wrong. As I got older I began to feel the lyrics, not just sing them. I was taught by many directors to use very prominent facial expressions while singing. Being young when I first started out, and through the awkward teenage years, I thought they were out to make us all look weird. I didn't use much facial expression, I merely just sang the songs and listened to the harmonies. When I finally joined TC (Touring Choir) that's when I began to really feel the music. We were all encouraged to tell the story with our faces as we sang beautiful songs. It took my experience with music to a whole new level. I will never forget a concert we had in New York. It was our last concert on tour and I stood there, singing beside close friends, with tears streaming down my face as I sang of a goodbye. It wasn't until after the song was finished, and my eyes were finally able to see through the tears that I realized the crowd we were singing to had now stood up, and just like us, were holding hands and crying. That's when I knew, music was more than just singing, or listening, or feeling. It was about truly feeling, it was about baring your soul for others to see, it was about communicating. I will also never forget the words below in this picture I've added. There is a poem by Emily Dickinson named "Hope Is The Thing With Feathers." If you haven't guessed already it tells a story of hope and how although we give up on it sometimes it never gives up on us. We sang this for Dr. and Mrs. Jacobs young granddaughter who was battling cancer. She danced around and around as we sang it and there was not a dry eye amongst the singers, pianist, director or audience that day. Those memories of how music can change a heart, give us hope or help us communicate to complete strangers, will forever be etched in my mind.
Mrs. Arlene Jacobs and Dr. Frank Jacobs. Those precious names will forever be embedded in my mind as well. You see, Dr. Jacobs was there for me since second grade. Since little awkward Nina played the piano and sang for him. He knew me, he knew every kid that was part of his beloved SCS. He walked around to practices and listened in, he would stop us in the hallway to genuinely ask how we were doing and he knew us all by name. Now, Mrs. Jacobs, she was there through one of my toughest experiences in life. I will never forget how much she believed in the music that was inside of me.
It was a Saturday practice on February 19th of 2011, we were mid song when suddenly everything stopped. The piano, Mrs. Jacobs directing hands and our voices. I turned around to find my grandmother trying to grab my attention and I knew it was time. You see, my mother had been put on bedrest due to some complications with her pregnancy of my youngest sister. That morning on my way to practice I was warned that little Mia may be born that day and to keep my eye out during practice. I promptly left rehearsal that morning and my little miracle sister was born. Now, without going into too much detail (because of course I want to save the story for another blog post that's beginning to form in my already overloaded brain) my family and I ended up in Michigan for 11 1/2 months as Mia fought for her life and went through many surgeries. As a 14 year old who had just been pulled out of public school, because she decided she wanted to homeschool, you can imagine that in my mind my world was spiraling out of control. But one thing remained. Music. I was four, agonizingly painful (okay, so that's a bit dramatic. But try to remember people I was only 14...) hours away from all of my choir friends and my sheets of lovely music. Mrs. Jacobs never gave up on me though. She fought for me, for my passion. She knew I needed music in my life, and so she decided to work with me. As much as I could I would grab rides from friends and relatives so I could occasionally come to practices. I sat for countless hours with my mother or even alone at the Ronald McDonald House's piano trying to learn my parts. I met with MJ (Mrs. Jacobs) as much as I possibly could in order to make sure I knew my music. I clung to it, to my passion. Everything in the hospital was always wish-washy. There were never normal days, everything changed all the time. But music, it stayed solid. It was always there. I than began to sing for people at the hospital every Thursday evening (and once again I'm saving that for another blog! Sorry!) After a few months I realized that tour was approaching. Not just any tour, my first tour. It would be to Canada and I DID NOT want to miss it! We discussed it with MJ and she kindly agreed that if I worked extra hard I would still be allowed on tour. The next thing you know I'm on a tour bus with all my friends singing my heart out to a bunch of maple syrup Canadians!
Comments
Post a Comment