My husband and I moved into our present home in 2025. We had not been here very long when a woman who lived across the street stopped her car to greet us and welcome us to the neighborhood. She explained that she had not come over earlier to introduce herself because she had been driving back and forth to the hospital where her premature baby girl had spent many weeks fighting to hang onto life. The child had been born so small that diapers had to be adapted to her tiny size. Her lungs were barely functioning and whether or not she would make it was touch and go.
Eventually the tiny girl came home with her parents who were delightful and incredibly gracious and friendly. I truly felt blessed that they lived so close to us and we engaged in a friendship that rivaled those we had made in our old neighborhood. Sadly, the couple decided to move closer to work and were gone much sooner that we had hoped.
We kept in touch via Facebook and watched as they brought home another baby. This time it was a boy. In the twenty years since we first met them so much has happened. They adopted a child from India and entertained us and all of their friends with video cook offs during Covid when most of us were mostly staying home. Their joy and vitality was a kind of panacea for our isolation during that time.
As most parents do, they shared stories about their children. The eldest daughter, Maya, developed a beautiful voice and headed off to the University of Houston where she would study in the Moore’s School of Music. There she would enjoy the best of two worlds, living on campus but also being close enough to meet up with her family now and again. Her choral performances became a diversion for her proud mother and father and for those of us following the beautiful story of her family.
Recently Maya sang a solo with her church choir. It demonstrated the culmination of her hard work, but also the glories of the God who saved her at birth and gave her the lungs to praise with a beautiful voice. Her talent is stunning and I literally cried tears of joy and appreciation as I listened to her perfect pitch and the angelic notes that came from her beautiful heart.
I am not someone who normally cries easily. In fact I tend to go through funerals with a dry eye. It is only later when no one is around that my body lets go of the emotions I am feeling. The only time that I have zero control over shedding tears is when I hear beautiful music. The notes of a grand performance by another person seems to push away all of my inhibitions and efforts to control my composure. There is something spiritual about the ability to humans to make sounds that touch our very being.
I have sobbed uncontrollably at a live performance of Phantom of the Opera but also when listening to a recording of that musical at home. I cried at a concert of music written by Hans Zimmer and when I listen to Jesus Christ Superstar each Easter. It did not surprise me when the tears rolled down my face after hearing Maya singing with her incredible voice. Somehow she brought out all of the feelings that I have for her family and for the glory of creativity and talent that raises humans to a state that is heavenly.
We have a tendency in our world today to want our youngsters to cultivate some kind of abilities to work at a trade that will provide them with jobs that pay them enough to thrive and survive. While this is often the goal of education and the guidance that we give them, we all too often neglect to encourage them to develop the talents that make them soar with joy. We look at music, acting, comedy, writing as being luxuries that few of us can afford to pursue. We prefer seeing our young being practical and realistic. The arts have taken a back seat to science and technology in our adulation even as history has shown us that artistic talents live on through the centuries.
We go to museums to see the artwork work of ancient Greeks. We are in awe of paintings and sculptures created by the great masters. Music is passed down from generation to generation and yet we too often become wary if one of our children desires to try a hand at forging a career in the arts. We worry that they will have dreary lives is they are not more practical and yet we all know of individuals who have followed their hearts and engaged in a lifetime of the arts and been some of the happiest people we have ever known.
Money and status are not the be all and end all. I should know. I have been a teacher. Even with an advanced degree I made far less money that my peers who chose careers in business or technology. I came home happy each day that I worked which was worth more to me than double the salary. There really are some things that money cannot buy.
I wish that we would encourage our most talented people as a society rather than worrying that that they may not be as financially secure as we would like them to be. We need the arts in our lives and it is a great gift whenever someone has the talent to bring us joy. A true artist, like Maya, is truly a gift to us all.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 