"Lights Will Guide You Home...."

Tonight was a rare evening. I was caught up on work and I had no plans with friends or family and I found myself looking forward to a couple hours spent entirely in the company of my couch. I decided to watch a documentary that had been delivered the day before. "Young @ Heart". It follows a choir made entirely of senior citizens, who tour the world unexpectedly performing hits from the Clash, Jimi Hendricks, Springsteen etc..

Though not always the most vocally talented bunch, this group has more heart than most of the people I've met in my comparably brief lifetime. During the hour and 45 min, I was surprised at the emotions that flowed freely from my soul. As I watched them practice, perform, struggle with complicated tongue tying lyrics, not to mention their general weakness of physicality, I became more and more attached to this handful of complete strangers.
Though the film chronicles two months in the Young@Heart Chorus members' lives as they prepare for a one-night concert in their hometown, two individuals held my attention.

Bob, and Fred.

Bob, a frail, ashen man more concerned with what octave to start in and less about the fact that he could barely catch his breath to speak.
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Fred, hooked to a portable oxygen tank, was a larger man, with an even larger amount of charisma, and a voice that was shockingly similar to Johnny Cash.

Bob and Fred were chosen to perform a duet of Coldplays "Fix You".

A week into rehearsals, Bob passed away. The choir was notified shortly before they were to perform at a Massachusetts state prison. Though upset, distraught and probably questioning their own mortality, they went on stage. (in this case a grassy hill in the prison yard) … they sang. They sang with joy. They sang for their lost friend.

With frail swaying arms, this group of feisty geriatrics, inspired and moved the prisoners. Hardened, tattooed men, fought back tears. They felt. They opened themselves up, and embraced the joyfulness of the music.

The choir pushed on, and rehearsed and struggled and expressed how this special community helped to keep them young… helped them to have something to look forward to each day.

On opening night, their joy touched a packed theater, a full audience built of a variety of people. A community. Midway through the show, Fred, having lost his partner, sat alone in the middle of the stage.

Alone. The only sound, the electronic pump of his oxygen machine, he entered into the song dedicated to a fallen friend.
………………
“fix you”

I’ve probably heard this song over 100 times on the radio and have till now, written it off as “another pretty love song” but… quite suddenly… this popular song took on a whole new meaning. No longer a song from an overly emotional, sensitive boy to his love, it was now a song to a broken human from his loving God.

A song about hope, and strength and growth. A song about overlooking past failures, and regrets. A true love song about the one relationship that is pure and healthy. The one relationship we continuously take for granted… that we overlook… that we neglect… and yet this love is forgiving and knows our worth. Knows that even though we may think the love doesn’t fit, loves us anyway.

I cried (a lot)

It was good. It was beautiful and I released so much pain inside that I was holding onto. So much sadness I hadn’t been able to let go of. I was thankful for this flow of tears. For this blessing that I really didn’t expect when turning on the dvd player. Thank you Fred and the choir, thank you Bob, Thank you for the delight that they bring to people and the infectious happiness that spreads from each note they sing.

“…and high up above or down below, when your too in love to let it go, but if you never try you’ll never know, just what your worth…. Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try…. to fix you.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_n0zvoHlVk