I teach my violin students in a humble, white church on a hill. The sanctuary is resonant and alive with acoustics, with wooden pews and a high, peaked ceiling. I set up my music stand by a tall window that looks into the heart of a white and pink flowering tree.

Today, I sat listening to my student Keli play, a slender, quiet girl with large eyes. Her eyes glistened, and I almost thought she was crying. I looked beyond her to the pearl-gray light filling the window. The sun had died away and the sky was darkening quickly. The wind started to bluster. A great moment of silence arrested the earth. And then the rain was unleashed. Down it pounded onto the roof above our heads: power, love, the whisper of voices.

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