At any rate, after the performance was over, I wandered out through the lobby, heading toward my car. I was stopped, though, by two women who took the time to add their personal thank-you for the performance. They mentioned specific things that had brought them joy, such as the power of the Gospel Magnificat—and said that they’d both cried when we sang the hauntingly poignant Prayer of the Children.
It was so thoughtful of them to hang around for a while waiting for us to appear from the back halls, just so they could give more than the applause we’d received in the hall.
I’ve decided that for the coming week, I’m going to go out of my way, at least once each day, to say thank you. Won’t you join me in that endeavor?
I wonder if bees have a way to say thanks? Surely, when a forager bee unloads her pollen and hands off her nectar to one of the house bees, the bee on the receiving end must wiggle her thanks one way or another. How else could bees have functioned so well for 140 million years?
BEEattitude for Day # 153:
Blessed are the music-makers, for they shall feel a deep and abiding connection with each other.
One thing Fran is grateful for right now:
The audio book (The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane) that kept me company on the long trip to and from Spivey Hall. It’s a great story that weaves the lives of women from Salem Massachusetts in 1692 (witch trial times) with the life of a young graduate student in the 1990s.
