Heart at Home

Although I love to sing, and have had a small amount of choir experience, I am not the chorister who requires menu planning around. Christopher is the proud performer in our family. Last year he started singing with the Australian Youth Choir, and it has proven to be a truly enriching experience for him. The first picture is of our little man on his very first day, a year ago. They are required to wear the uniform to every rehearsal, and he's so proud of it.



This is his performing robe. They simply look amazing on stage. There are about 500 kids on the stage at their concerts, and they all look immaculate and angelic. His former Grade One teacher attended his first concert, without realising he was there. She spotted him on the stage, and commented to me afterwards about how amazing it was to see 500 children behave so in unison for so long. They are seated between songs, and they rise in perfect concert at a gesture from the conductor. It gives me chills every time. It also amazes me how clearly the words are audible when they all sing. At school you can barely make out the words when the kids sing, but the choir flourishes under the skilled tuition provided for them. I just think it's wonderful, and I look forward to this years three concerts with great anticipation.

When Chirstopher started in choir we were quite concerned about his lack of concentration and his social immaturity. He has developed so well with the high expectations that choir place on him. His teachers at school have also notice the growth, and commented very favourably about the changes.

Much to our delight, he passed the end of year examinations and was promoted from probationer to training choir. I feel a little lump in my throat each week to see him troop off to rehearsal, my tiny 8 year old in a sea of tall teenagers. I am so proud of him, and at the same time a little fearful that he's growing up too quickly. Listening to his tired chatter on the way home last night, I get the impression that the older kids are being very kind to him, and encouraging him to feel comfortable, even though he's a far bit younger than most of them. Neither of his close friends from last year are with him any more, and I was worried he'd be a bit lonely. He seems so different. Last year he'd be one of the first out the door, stampeding with his friends down the verandah. We'd see them before we'd hear them, and more often than not one of the three would have left something behind and need to rush back up to the classroom. This year, a sedate young man strolls casually down to me, with all his things carefully tucked under his arm. We walk arm in arm back to the car, and he tells me a little, though he's so tired he needs prompting.

They are all so precious!