"I've got a feeling... everything's gonna be alright."

My first in-person rehearsal since the pandemic was strange, disorienting. Because it wasn’t my old choir.

Literally, in one respect: I hadn’t previously met at least a third of the people there.

And figuratively too, because none of us are the same people we were 16 months ago.

I know I’ve changed in innumerable ways. As a parent whose children haven’t always coped too well with the effects of the pandemic and the interruptions to their schooling. As a person, having witnessed some truly seismic events locally, nationally, and internationally over the past year or two. And as a singer and choir leader who has become used to performing over Zoom rather than in-person.

Even having to take a shower and change out of my jammie bottoms before going to work felt foreign. The thought of being visible, head to toe, to 30 people at once left me feeling…exposed.

And I knew it wasn’t just me. I knew we ALL had to overcome our awkwardness. I knew we ALL needed to get to know one another again, to find our connection to each other and to the music. I knew we needed to process the ways in which we’ve changed.

So I began the first rehearsal by asking some questions like:

“Walk into the center of the circle with me if you…

•         Have had COVID
•         Have started doing anti-racist work
•         Have non-vaccinated people living at home …”

It was a busy circle.

But asking those questions — and finding common ground — was what we needed to come together again.

By the time our second rehearsal rolled around, I knew it had worked.

I was back in the groove again. I was happy to lead everyone in song. I remembered how much fun it is to improvise the warm ups, to play with the choir, to shape them into an orchestra.

But the real change was in my choir members.

After singing Heather Houston’s “Rewild my soul”, with the line, “Oh Eagle, rewild my soul”, one of my singers shared that her friend died by suicide exactly one year earlier. As she explained how her daughter is reminded of her mother every time she sees an eagle, something in the room shifted.

We could all feel how much grief we were holding. For the woman who had jumped in the river. For the daughter who misses her. For the people we’ve lost this year. For the certainty and normality we’ve lost. For the hope we’ve lost.

For a while we just held hands and let the tears roll down our cheeks.

Yet, as we sang the song a second time as a recording for this grieving daughter, we could feel something else too:

The hope we still have.

The beauty of being able to come together and sing in harmony once again. The love that we feel for the music…and for each other.

Gradually our tears of grief turned to tears of gratitude. We began to smile.

And I knew I had the perfect way to end our rehearsal. I opened my mouth and sang:

“I've got a feeling — everything's gonna be alright.” (song by Albertina Walker)

Maybe not immediately. Maybe not right now. But eventually, everything is gonna be alright.

It feels incredible to be able to sing in person again — and we’d love for you to join us as we share our grief, our joy, our tears, our smiles, and above all, our fearless voices.