Yesterday was the funeral of a much loved member of Holy Communion, Gloria Bolm, whose death came rather unexpectedly and entirely too soon. One of the pieces of music requested by her family was “Children of the Heavenly Father” – in Swedish – and after listening to the Carthage Choir grapple with the Swedish lyrics of Hugo Alfven’s “Aftonen” over the last few weeks, I was well aware of how tricky it would be for me to do an even halfway decent job with this request. But the family was so anxious for this to be sung, that I decided to do the best I could. I eventually found a youtube video of the Augustana College Choir singing this hymn in Swedish- and thought it was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever heard. (And as a Nordic Choir alum, who now plays for the Carthage Choir, it takes a lot for me to pay such a lavish compliment to another Lutheran college choir, but they earned it fair and square.) And thanks to watching that video, I was able to sort out most of the Swedish just in time for yesterday’s funeral. And I have to say that singing this beloved old hymn in this way and for this particular occasion is one of the most moving experiences I’ve ever had at a funeral. It meant breathing wonderful new life into a hymn that I have known backwards and forwards for as long as I can remember.
Whenever I sing this hymn, I think back to a memorable Tuesday morning my junior year in college. The night before had been auditions for the solos for that year’s performances of Handel’s “Messiah” – and since I had sung “But who may abide” my sophomore year, I decided to go for “The Trumpet Shall Sound” this time around. But that aria did not suit me nearly as well as the other one did, and to make a long story short, I ended up not getting any solo whatsoever my junior year. (Marshall is the one who went to check the posting of solo assignments, and when he came back to tell me that I wasn’t on the list, I honestly thought he was joking- but it was no joke. My sophomore year I had been one of the soloists- but my junior year, I would be back in the chorus. It was the single biggest blow I’d ever experienced in my life – and I still feel so badly that I put Marshall in such an awkward spot by having him look at the list for me. I was pretending that I was too nervous to look, but in fact I wasn’t at all – I was sure I would have a solo again but I was just trying to inject a little extra drama into the proceedings. Little did I know just how much drama there would turn out to be. )
Anyway, I walked around in a daze for awhile, trying to process the pain and embarrassment I was feeling – and wanting desperately not to talk with anyone. Eventually I found myself at morning chapel, but sitting way off to one side, doing everything short of holding a sign that read “I want to be left alone.” Then the opening hymn was introduced: “Children of the Heavenly Father” – and just as we all began singing the first verse, a senior named Ellen slipped right next to me. We didn’t know each other very well- but that morning we were cut from the same cloth, because her name was also missing from the soloist list after having been a soloist the previous year. And unlike me – a junior with another year to try – Ellen was a senior with no more chances, so her disappointment had to be still more acute. Anyway, I am sure that is why she chose to sit next to me at chapel- and when we got to the fourth stanza and the words “though He giveth or He taketh. . .” I felt Ellen’s head resting on my right shoulder – not so much in grief or seeking comfort but more of a lighthearted, friendly gesture- as if to say “ain’t it the truth?!? and nobody in this room knows what these words mean better than we do right now!” And of course, those next lyrics are the most important of the whole hymn: “Though He giveth or He taketh, God His children ne’er forsaketh.”
That was exactly thirty years ago this fall – and it is still utterly impossible for me to sing this hymn or even merely hear its melody – without thinking back to that morning when i felt like Wile E. Coyote suddenly flattened by a grand piano that had been unexpectedly dropped on me from above. The words of this hymn remind us that we both win and lose – laugh and cry – soar and fall – in this life. . . but through all of that, and especially in those moments which leave us completely bewildered, we are not alone. And as I sang this hymn yesterday, I hope the family of Gloria Bolm was somehow reminded of the same thing.
pictured above: I love this picture of Kathy reading to our niece, Lorelai.