It was a blustery, chilly spring Sunday. From 2 to 5pm we had a Nashville Choir rehearsal at the historic Wightman Chapel, where no one can really sound bad. But still, we sounded really good. Mom, Angela and I sat in the front row and sang our way through a little Brahms and a bit of Moses Hogan. It always seems such a huge sacrifice of my Sunday afternoon but I'm always glad I get to sing my alto part, especially when next to family members.After rehearsal, the nuclear family (sans Joshua) went to Sunset Grille in Hillsboro Village. We needed a cozy spot for this grey, icky evening. I really think that the last time we were all there together was when Angela and I were in high school. I recall it was for a birthday -- Angela's, I think -- and there was a little tension, if memory serves me. Just a little garden variety teenage angst. But tonight, over martinis, lamb meatballs with puttanesca, steamed PEI mussels, beet and fennel salad with quite a kicky Tabasco vinaigrette, and, admittedly, a bacon cheeseburger and sweet potato fries (split four ways, mind you), the conversation flowed freely, thoughts and opinions were exchanged and laughter was in grand supply. As we talked about jobs, music, family, possibilities, hurdles, debt, dreams and memories, I couldn't help the several flashbacks that crept up in my thinking. I remembered these four people about twenty years ago, not having any idea that we would land where we find ourselves tonight.
I don't have a whole lot to say about where we were then or where we find ourselves now except to express my gratitude. I am grateful for God's provision and protection, grateful for a family that hang together, grateful for the humor and grace which have carried us through the past years. Our waiter, Bo, brought us a complimentary crème brulée. He said we were his "most fun table of the night." I suppose some things never change.
