As surely was the case for millions worldwide, I experienced a myriad of emotions as I watched the television broadcast of this week’s Inaugural Ceremonies.
Many of the musical presentations were Cheesecake Factory delicious to my ears. What a glorious day for chordal choices – from the blissful yearnings of James Taylor’s humble rendition of “America The Beautiful” to the genius musical arrangement of “Battle Hymn Of The Republic” sung by the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir – a miraculous ensemble which incorporates only a few professional singers, instead choosing to raise-up former crack-addicts, homeless people and even a few lawyers.
If you missed that performance, stop reading this column NOW – I mean it. Navigate to Youtube and put in “Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir sings Battle Hymn Of The Republic”. Scroll down to the video posted by TPMTV or by Culturemix 1- they seem to have the best audio mixes. Then turn off the television, quiet the dog and listen to how a woman named Carol Cymbala and a man named Jason Michael Webb were guided to compose the musical arrangement of their lives.
I’ll wait.
If I’ve ever questioned the power of music, the potential of humanity living together in harmony, or how lucky I am to live in this great country, there’s my answer.
Along with the euphoria, I felt an immense sense of pride and gratitude. And along the way, the thought of “expectations” came to mind.
Watching this potpourri of our fellow citizens determinedly engaging firsthand in this momentous event, I began to wonder what expectations I should have of myself over the coming year. At this point in my life, what can I realistically expect from myself? Will I be more a participant or spectator? Will I embrace life more than ever or retreat to the sidelines? What should I expect of my willingness, my beliefs, my character?
Obviously I expect to be honest: life’s too short for lying and denying. Every time I’m less than truthful to myself or anyone else, it never turns out well.
I should expect myself to be fair. Whenever I’m treated unfairly, more often than not I react with resentment or self-pity. Knowing how debilitating those feelings are, how can I purposefully infuse them on anyone else?
Even though it seems obvious, I should remind myself to be kind. No one likes being inappropriately diminished or purposefully unacknowledged. That it takes no more effort to be acknowledging rather than dismissive is undeniable, and I always feel better afterward.
I should expect myself be focused, pragmatic and avoid envy. Someone once said that ideas, courage and determination are the stuff that dreams are made of. Focus and reality can be another matter, but for this year, I expect myself to be clear about setting my goals and staying focused – and no matter ever my age, to keep reaching for my dreams.
I should expect myself to be wise yet teachable, trusting and loving, and to be accepting, willing to be of service and kind to my mind and body.
Most of all I should expect myself to ultimately arrive at gratitude for each and every blessing in my precious, precious life.
I think these expectations are part of what the Ages are trying to teach me, sealed by an assurance that Almighty God really does love and adore all of us, and wants only to guide us to live our most fulfilled, meaningful lives.
Thank you Mrs. Cymbala and Mr. Webb for touching my artistic soul. I expect myself to do the best I can to return the favor.