Friday 25 September 2009


Sitting in the chapel for the third week in a row and I am in awe of my son and what he is doing.

I can hear a soft rumbling outside the Quire as the chapel enters the church and they assemble themselves.

The organ echoes off the ancient walls of this historic chapel. At my feet is the burial plot of King Henry VIII and Jane Seymour (his 3rd wife). I sit in ancient oak stalls with the brass plates of the Knights of the Garter behind my head. King Louis V is to my right. They represent the servants of the realm and the Queen’s most trusted advisors. I feel like I am part of this history. Or at least my son is.

He walks into the chapel with the other choristers towering above him. He is by far the smallest; perhaps the smallest chorister ever. They’ve even had to shorten his cassock so that it would fit him.

His cassock is a rich burgundy red. The colour suits him. He looks so grown up. Or maybe he looks little acting grown up.

He wears an uncharacteristic stoic look on his face until his eye catches mine and I see a slight smile in his eyes. Sometimes his mouth betrays him and he gives me a proper smile. But it doesn’t last long. He is all business. He knows this is important.

The voices of angels are heard every time these boys open their mouths. They soar to the roof tops and back. I get goose bumps every time I hear them sing and tears spring to my eyes as I burst with pride. Is this my child? How did he become this incredible person? And what was I doing when he became him?

Sebastian sings every word of the service. He sings in English. He sings in Latin. He concentrates and knows this is his duty. To God. To Country. To Queen.

He sneaks me a wry smile as he exits the Quire. He is full of himself and his accomplishment. He knows he has a lot to learn. His enthusiasm about music theory I find quite baffling. His dedication to his piano is admirable. He frustration with his violin his pitiable.

I won’t speak to him until tomorrow evening by which time his performance will be long forgotten in the memory of an 8 year old. But these moments I will never forget.


Anonymous said...

I so wish I could be there..Mom

Carol said...

Truly beautiful.

Janell said...

I wish I could hear that! It sounds incredibly beautiful and very moving - both intellectually and spiritually. The essence of the art of music.

Sue said...

Your discription just makes me want to be there. You have every reason to be very proud.