As music poured from the speakers, Missy danced. And squirmed. And smiled.
How could she not? Her favorites, the Face Vocal Band, were back on the microphone.
Well, in a way.
Like everyone else, Boulder County’s own a cappella rock band had been pushed off the concert stage and into shelter by COVID-19. And like so many performers, they were finding a work-around – a periodic livestream that mixed behind-the-scenes commentary and familiar videos, each time culminating in the debut of a brand new piece.
By itself, that would be more than enough to keep the flame burning in the hearts of the Face-ful followers. But on Friday night, Face cheated.
It’s really not fair to bring in magic, too.
“From now on … these eyes will not be blinded by the lights …”
The tune would be familiar to many: the showstopping “From Now On” from the movie musical “The Greatest Showman.” Face was supposed to be bringing that song to Carnegie Hall, backed by a mighty community chorus. Instead, they were bringing it to the world, voices stitched together from a myriad of homes as band, chorus, and fans united in the only way they could.
At any time, it would have been a beautiful song. But at this time – blended with images of joy, hope and togetherness from the families of their fans everywhere – it did more than sing. It resonated. And as the hook repeated over and over, I realized for a moment that sometimes life really does have a soundtrack:
“And we will come back home, and we will come back home, home again …”
Isn’t that what we’re all waiting for?
OK, put like that, it might sound a little strange. After all, we’re all spending a lot more time at home lately than any of us had planned on. Some are climbing the walls while others are bunking down in introverted peace, but surely all of us are looking to the day when home can be a base instead of a world. Aren’t we?
Well, yes and no.
Sure, most of us want the front door to open again for something that isn’t a weekly grocery trip. But home is more than a living space. It’s a mental space. It’s a life that we know and recognize, a state of mind where we know how things fit and where we belong.
That home has been distant for quite a while now. We want it back. And we sometimes fear how little of it may remain, how much may have changed beyond recognition.
I can’t claim a gift of prophecy. I don’t know what the far end of this looks like any more than you do. But I suspect we’ll keep more than we think.
And that’s because we’ve already kept more than we know.
When everything familiar is taken away, it puts the essentials in a spotlight. There’s time to see what’s really important and what was just noise.
Maybe that’s why, even in the midst of so much isolation, we’re still finding ways to be together.
I’m not blindly optimistic. I know there’s anger and debate and contention – I do have a social media account, after all. But I’m constantly struck by how many people are doing so much to add a little beauty, humor and hope to the world. Not because they’re ignoring the situation – is it ignoring the darkness to light a candle?- but because it’s what we do. As friends. As neighbors. As people.
We help. We listen. We howl in the night. And yes, sometimes we sing.
And through all of it, we heal.
Yes. We will come back home again. Not unchanged. But not alone. And when we do – that will truly be a time to dance.
Missy is ready.
You can see it in her Face.