Sampson Chronicles

I just got back from a funeral. Mr. Allen Wayte, the Director of Music at our church died unexpectedly in his sleep last week. I went as a member of the church, not as a friend. We exchanged waves and smiles in the hall and a few conversations about Jack wanting to join the children's choir, then changing his mind, but most of my knowing Mr. Wayte was through listening to him play the organ on Sundays. While I admit to being tone deaf, I love music and always felt warmed by the music in the church. Mr. Wayte conducted several choirs, taught music and performed in many arenas both in and out of church communities - the church was packed full and most of the attendents could sing. The music in the service was unlike anything I have heard before. The skill of the choirs was notable but during the hymns I closed my eyes (and my mouth as not to ruin the effect) and was enveloped in singing so strong and loud, the love was almost palpable. It was soothing and inspiring at the same time. Music is truly a gift and a gem in this busy life, I wish I could have bottled it this morning to let it out a little bit at a time as I need it through my days.

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