It's the storm, not me, that's bound to blow away

It's the storm, not me, that's bound to blow away  

by Deb Graham

Lucky me– while in Utah visiting kids and grandkids over Thanksgiving, I attended a live broadcast of Music and the Spoken Word, with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  I saw them perform for the first time in July ,in the LDS Conference Center, and that was majestic and grandiose and overwhelming. This time was in the Tabernacle on Temple Square, a surprisingly intimate-feeling venue. We sat on seats hand painted by pioneers who wanted oak and had only pine at hand. Besides loving the swelling music that vibrated the seats and my heart,  two things jumped out at me.

 Mac Wilberg is a known musical genius, but I had no idea to what degree that’s true. We sat in our seats a few minutes early, and the Choir was rehearsing. Mac Wilberg stood on his podium with a headset on, the 110-member orchestra at his feet, the 360-member Mormon Tabernacle Choir in front of him. They ran through a line or two, and he waved his hand to a stop. He singled out three male singers  on the fifth row, and asked for “More energy, please, not more volume,” and called for the second and third cellos to pick up the pace on stanza eight, if you please.

Now, granted, I impress easily. I freely admit my only musical talent is as an audience, and a fine audience I am; polite, attentive, appreciative. To see a man so finely tuned that he could isolate three choir members and two cellists out of the all the waves of sound around him surprised me. How much do I miss in my life simply because I don’t block out the distractions around me?

The Choir sang a song I hadn’t heard. My daughter sat beside me, and at the first stanza, we turned to one another, locking eyes. She recently moved away, breaking several hearts in the process, including mine and hers. Those lyrics went right through us both; I felt it, I saw it in her eyes. We agreed we need to both print out the words and post them in our homes to remind us we’re tougher than we think we are. See if they don’t make you feel better!

 I also found the Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s rendition on YouTube, should you have a few minutes to listen to it.

Hold On from The Secret Garden

When you see the storm is coming,
See the lightning part the skies,
It's too late to run-
There's terror in your eyes!
What you do then is remember
This old thing you heard me say:
"It's the storm, not you,
That's bound to blow away."

Hold on,
Hold on to someone standing by.
Hold on.
Don't even ask how long or why!
Child, hold on to what you know is true,
Hold on 'til you get through.
Child, oh child!
Hold on!

When you feel your heart is poundin', 
Fear a devil's at your door.
There's no place to hide-
You're frozen to the floor! 
What you do then is you force yourself
To wake up, and you say: 
"It's this dream, not me,
that's bound to go away."

Hold on,
Hold on, the night will soon be by.
Hold on,
Until there's nothing left to try.
Child, hold on, There's angels on their way!
Hold on and hear them say,
"Child, oh child!"

And it doesn't even matter
If the danger and the doom
Come from up above or down below, 
Or just come flying
At you from across the room!

When you see a man who's raging,
And he's jealous and he fears
That you've walked through walls
He's hid behind for years.
What you do then is you tell yourself to wait it out
And say it's this day, not me,
That's bound to go away.

Child, oh hold on.
It's this day, not you,
That's bound to go away!

We are not going anywhere. We just have to hold on and push back the swirling darkness.