Now This Is Music

[Bamboo_Chicken]

Now This is Music!

The Lord is my strength and my shield; in Him my heart trusts so I am helped, and my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to Him. Ps 28:7

I had such wonderful plans laid out for my life, and they all seemed to be right on track. In fact, on that day in March of 1988, it seemed nothing could possibly go wrong. I never suspected that within a month, that day would seem like a different life, lived by someone else altogether.
“My kids” were obviously nervous as they streamed off the bus for the music competition at the Orange County Performing Arts Center. We’d worked so hard for this day. Is was to be the shining hour of their musical year, and my “blaze of glory” farewell.
In a way it was a miracle in itself that we were here. Vocal music had long been my life, but for years I’d felt called to be a teacher as well. When I was hired at San Clemente High School as the choral music teacher, it looked to be a challenge to say the least: there were 18 students enrolled in choir classes.
Through dedication and persistence, our ranks had swelled to 150. Lots of “cool kids” joined, and singing was suddenly an “in” thing to do. The music room became a place kids wanted to be; a place they belonged. They recognized how much I cared about them and showed their appreciation by voting me Teacher of the Year.
As much as I loved my kids, 1988 was to be my last year at San Clemente. I was engaged to be married in the spring and would join my new husband in Denver after the wedding. I happily made plans to continue to teach in Colorado. I was as a final tribute to my students that I entered our choir into this competition.
We knew it wasn’t and ordinary festival. Dr. Howard Swan, known as the grandfather of choral music, would be rating the participants. He was known to be a tough judge.
We were shown to the large room where we robed up and vocally prepared. “Brahms?! But it’s so heavy!” My students had wined when I first told them of my musical selection for the upcoming competition. “Besides, it’s in German. C’mon, Miss Lacouagaue, give us a break!” I explained to them that thought they didn’t always get to choose the songs, if they’d put their trust in me, they would surely be singing beautiful music.
I selected Brahms because it’s emotional and passionate, complex yet simple. It flows then swells, it’s loud then soft. It’s a melodic love song, and it would push our choir to its limits; it would test out talent, so Brahms it was.
We worked long, hard, disciplined hours, and we had fun. Our goal of earning a good mark from Dr. Swan couldn’t be reached without everyone together. Our relationships with each other grew stronger. After months of practice, it was now time to show our stuff.
Thousands of guests filled the rows of seats beyond the blinding lights. The theatre grew silent and the hushed whispers finally ceased. Dressed in solemn black robes, the choir watched me expectantly from the stage, and I could tell they were nervous. Just the day before, we’d decided to change the tempo of the Brahms to more fully communicate the passion of the song. We hadn’t had much time to rehearse. Standing in front of them, I tried to show them with my eyes that everything would be okay if they followed me.
In my humble opinion, they gave their best performance ever. They absolutely nailed it! Yet we didn’t dare risk elation until we received our ratings from the judges. The kids headed toward the safety of the bus in a frenzy of excitement while I waited behind, nervously awaiting the results.
When I finally boarded the bus, the kids were overcome with anticipation. “What’s it say, Miss Lacouague? How’d we do? What’d we get?”
My stomach fluttered as I opened the rating sheet.
It merely read, “Now this is Brahms!” The rating next to the comment was SUPERIOR – the highest ranking.
We all squealed with delight. Hugs, kisses and high fives went all around.
What a wonderful send-off. If only my wedding and job search would go as well!
One month later, on a Sunday evening, I got up from my kitchen table after preparing lessons for the upcoming week. I was happy but exhausted: I’d spent all day directing the choir and orchestra in a musical. On top of that, I had all my planning to do for the wedding, the impending move and many farewells.
Around 2:00am, I woke up mid-air, falling out of the foot of my bed onto my head. As I hit the floor, I heard my neck crack. I found myself flat on my back with my feet in the closet, and my head up against the dust ruffle. How did I get here? I asked myself sleepily as I tried to roll over and sit up.
It didn’t work. Instead, I heard another craaaaaaack and felt a burst of pain. Resolutely, I tried to roll over to my other side. Craaaaack. That shot of pain took my breath away. I was way beyond tears. I knew now I couldn’t get up – I needed help.
I tried to yell out to my roommate, Dorothy, whose room was upstairs. My shout came out as a breathy whisper. I couldn’t even talk!
“She’ll never find me! I’ll lie here until morning!” I tried not to panic.
Amazingly, within minutes the door opened and Dorothy walked into my room, turning on the light. “Renee?” she asked, “Are you all right?”
“My neck is killing me,” I whispered. “Call the paramedics.”
Seeing the distress in my eyes, she ran for help.
When I awoke in the hospital’s intensive care unit, I was gorggy and uncertain. The doctor’s deep, dark eyes had a serious look in them. He wasted no time mincing words.
“Renee,” he said, “your neck is broken. You’re paralyzed from the neck down. You’re a quadriplegic.”
“A what?” I asked, unsure of what he meant.
“You’ll never be able to walk, sit up, or move you arms or legs for the rest of you life,” he explained. “And I’, sorry, but you’ll never be able to sing again either.”
I was crushed. All I had done was go to bed. I couldn’t be paralyzed! Was I dreaming?
It’s hard to stay in denial when faced by such overwhelming physical evidence. Next I tried to grasp the impact of the injury on my life. Or what used to be my life! It was clear my plans were all as shattered as my vertebrae: I couldn’t teach, I couldn’t sing and certainly I couldn’t expect Mike to marry a quadriplegic when he’d proposed to a healthy woman!
My life was over. It was over. “God,” I wined, “this is not what I had in mind for my life! I can’t do it! Why? Why couldn’t you have given me an easier path?”
And then I heard that still, small voice: You may not always get to choose the songs, but if you put your trust in me, you’ll surely make beautiful music.
Did I have the same faith I required of my students?
My answer was hard-wrung. “Yes, Lord, I’ll trust you, I’ll trust you.”
The first “song” he gave me was incredibly precious. My beloved Mike insisted on becoming my husband. He strengthened the resolve I had to teach again. The fight I might not have been able to make for myself became easy when I thought of God, and Mike, and my future students. I even vowed to sing again.
It’s been nine years since then, and god has been good. The teaching I’ve done hasn’t been at school but at church, where I’ve been able to form three youth choirs. I’ve made a recording or songs for people who need courage, strength and hope like I did. I’ve been able to give concerts where I sing and tell my story to prisoners, teenagers, church and women’s groups.
No my life is not at all what I’d planned. But every now and then I see the sweet harmonies and sweeping cascades of God’s arpeggios all around me, and I think: Now this is music!

Renee Lacouague Bondi

– Chicken Soup for the Christian Soul