As I watched, I noticed a man at the back of the orchestra. He was short, with greying hair and receding hairline. He sat quietly through a number of pieces of music and didn’t appear to have a part to play. Then, as the music reached its crescendo, the sound vibrating around the great Opera Hall, he stood, triangle in hand, and when the conductor indicated, he struck the triangle.
It seemed in that instant quite ludicrous, a tiny tinkle in that vast ocean of sound, but there it was, audible, harmonious and adding something very special.
As the music died away and the grandeur of the night receded, he stayed with me.
Sometimes when I feel that what I have to offer is insignificant and unlikely to make any difference, I think of him and I’m reminded that in the hands of the Great Conductor, every part is significant to the beauty and overall harmony of the music.
I’m sometimes guilty of wanting the big part, the significant role that makes a visible difference. Slowly (and what a slow learner I am) I’m learning that I was made for small things and my contribution will always be from the back of the orchestra but it’s no less significant.