Singing with the lady in the back of the room...

She sat there in the back of the room as we ran through the Christmas songs. I know a lot of people at the Mayflower, one of our town's retirement communities, but she was not a familiar face to me. She was one of the first to arrive from her room for the program. She chose a seat in the back row on the aisle.

As others came in, the room began to fill. More chairs were brought out and set up so that everyone could enjoy the program. From "Jingle Bells" with real jingle bells, "Jolly Old St. Nicholas" and "Up on the Housetop" songs of childhood Christmas came right back. When Mrs. Claus read "The Night Before Christmas," I could imagine the years falling away and each of them sitting in their chairs as children, wearing grownups clothes.

Moving out of childhood and into their young adult years, we sing "Winter Wonderland" and "Silver Bells." I can still see my lady in the back who's with me note for note. These songs are not necessarily the favorites of children. They mention city streets, romance, walks in the snow with sweethearts facing unafraid the plans they've made... From where I stand singing with them and for them, I see those I know who have lost a spouse. In the space of the music, it doesn't matter if it's been 20 years or two weeks. Those feelings are still present.

I know that my favorite secular Christmas song catches my voice every time. It is so sentimental. Front and center before the room, direct eye contact could be my undoing. But I know we will all be somewhere other than this room when we sing "White Christmas." This room of people from so many different worlds of my life are very special to me. As we begin to sing, I do look around and notice I'm not the only one with a catch in my voice or an extra tear.

My lady in the back of the room with eyes closed, was a young girl in 1942 when Bing Crosby first sang "White Christmas." The woman next to her wearing a headset so that she can hear, has her hand over her mouth and is gently rocking. Music touches us. It transports us. The energy created in that room was extraordinary and ordinary all at the same time. It wasn't anything fancy. It wasn't a difficult piece. We all knew the words.... by heart.