The Amazing Graces

It rained, yesterday.
It rained and rained and rained, then when it quit raining, it rained some more. I know this because along with a fairly standard intellect, I was standing in the downpour for about three hours. Some of you might say to yourself, "Yeah that's Grace. Doesn't know when to come in out of the rain." This time it was worth it, though.
Soaked and miserable we slogged through preperations to perform for marching contest. In our dreary condition, the hot, dry mornings of summer band almost three months ago seemed like a nostalgic dream. Every one of my three layers were soaked through in minutes after opening the trailer to get ready for the band's one shot this year to prove their worth. Water ran into horns, covered the uniforms, and collected in the heads of the drums. It dripped from hats and down faces making the final fall to the ground from chins and noses. As I looked around at the McGregor High School Band, my impression was that of sack of half drowned cats, hair plastered against their skin.
We were early so we waited...in the rain of course and on the bus and in the trailer. Wherever we could find refuge nearby kids and adults huddled together to make the most of the cover. Our monitor, a skinny little girl wrapped in a red rain slicker looking as much like those cats as we did, finally came to move us to where we could practice a little without disturbing the performing groups. Our warm up area was, of course, in the rain but the kids lined up with the confidence that comes from doing something old and familiar.
A shouted command, a couple of quick claps and they were in motion. Flashing silver and the rush of air then sound burst out all around us. No more huddled groups or rain soaked cats just...the Band! Everyone stood a little taller as they progressed through the music and motion that has become so much a part of our lives in these last months. From the first tentative steps of summer through the endless repititious search for perfection to those past few days of realization that something just might happen this time, they grew.
I watched their eyes as a single determined consciousness spread as they completed this shared ritual of sound and movement. These young people were about to share a bond for six minutes on that field of honor that only the forntunate get to experience. For months they have struggled together, laughed together, cheered together, and cried together for this one moment to prove that what they do is significant. Now, with that moment looming large before them, they were ready. Wet...dry...hot...cold...sweat...chills...it didn't matter. They did what a McGregor Marching Band hasn't done for eleven long years. The cold hard ratings were "superior" from every judge but those of us who've been there the whole way know the heart of the matter. It was their hearts that mattered.