From my voice the most melodic sounds do not come forth; at best my singing voice is average but I didn’t let that stop me from joining the choir in grade school or the Glee Club in high school. The nuns didn’t seem to mind either. Most members in both groups were ordinary vocalists with only one or two exceptions and the lead nuns made do with what God provided them.

I don’t remember why I joined the choir in grade school, perhaps it was my mother’s doing, however, I do remember that I was glad to be a part of a faction that praised God through music. It made me feel good. The choir sang every Sunday at Mass, for Mass on Holy Days of Obligation, and other occasions such as weddings. It was the funerals that I would have preferred to skip. Yet, I was loyal to my obligation and sang as required at those too.

Forevermore when I hear the Ave Maria sung, in Latin or English, it will conjure memories of one funeral in particular that our choir was required to sing for when I was in seventh grade. Under the direction of Sister Maureen Therese we practiced after school and on weekends. During the week and after those practices four of my friends who were also in the choir and I often gathered to discuss a range of subjects. None could remember who singled her out but the magnetism was spun by the question, “Isn’t she pretty?” Another commented, “Pretty, isn’t the word.” They were both right. Collectively we were suctioned into the je ne sais quoi of a senior in high school and everyday thereafter we would watch her walk by our playground with the other high school students on their way home from school. Her name was Eulaylei. She had no idea we existed but every girl in my seventh grade class felt the same about her – she was the most beautiful girl we knew. None of us envied her beauty, we admired it. It wasn’t just physical beauty that she possessed; she was kind and described as a gentle soul by those who knew her well. We were mesmerized with every aspect of her life.

On what was an otherwise typical Monday morning we went to Mass, returned to the classroom, said our morning prayers and Sister Mary Claire began our first subject only to be interrupted by the principal. Outside in the hallway there was a brief discussion between them and Sr. Mary Claire returned and announced that Sr. Maureen Therese wanted the girls in the choir to report to the church for a special practice. Although everyone wondered what was happening no one talked on the walk from the classroom to the church. The choir director offered only a curt statement: “Today, Tuesday, and Wednesday the choir will practice to perform for a funeral Mass that will be held on Thursday.” No one in the choir was aware of any deaths in the parish or neighborhood so her announcement created a wave of questions. Sr. Maureen Therese asked for quiet and received our full attention.

Over the weekend a young police officer pursued a suspect and that person hid in an alleyway. The officer was shot by the suspect and died early that Monday morning. It was his funeral that would be held on Thursday morning. After more discussion we learned that the officer was Eulaylei’s fianće; they planned to marry shortly after her graduation less than two months away. We were speechless.

On the day of the funeral the choir assembled in the loft of the church to sing while friends and congregants gathered below us to pay their respects. The casket of the deceased was rolled down the aisle as his parents physically supported Eulaylei; they followed it and eased into the front pew. Tears could be found of the faces of the entire congregation. The choir could barely sing the Latin version of Ave Maria, and Sr. Maureen Therese’s sole voice was the only one clear and audible. Throughout the entire service the mournful sobs of Eulaylei also filled the church and her black veil hid the pain that was apparent and shared by all for the couple whose future had been so bright only days before.

To young impressionable girls who sought fitting role models I discovered that Eulaylei was not where our attention should have been on that day or any other; ever before us stands the ultimate paradigm, the Blessed Mother who invariably directs us to her Son. As is written in 1 Peter 4:13 – “Rather be glad that you are sharing Christ’s sufferings, so that you may be full of joy when His glory is revealed.”

Latin was the language used in Mass and song at that time so I didn’t realize it then but later I considered the words to the song that stirs the emotions of so many. They are, in fact, the prayer that is repeated by Catholics worldwide in the rosary and, for me, when no other prayer seems appropriate: the Hail Mary!

These few words suffice whatever the occasion, be it joyful or sorrowful:

Hail Mary, full of grace,
the Lord is with thee,
blessed art thou amongst women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.
Amen.

“You have been raised to life with Christ, so set your hearts on the things that are in heaven, where Christ sits on His throne at the right side of God. Keep your minds fixed on things there, not on things here on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. Your real life is Christ and when He appears, then you too will appear with him and share his glory!”                   Colossians 3:1-4

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God Bless you always.}