Who Was Playing the Organ?

Donna Passarella

            When my mother, Mike, and I moved to Orlando, we had no idea where anything was.  One task on our priority list was to find a new church. That search not only yielded Good Shepherd but also a miracle.  Here’s how it happened.

            One day while driving to the post office located on Edgewater Drive, I got lost.  Somehow I wound up going east on Lake Avenue.  As I was looking for a road I might recognize, I had to slow down for railroad tracks.  It was then that I saw Good Shepherd’s sign, so I turned into the driveway to “check it out”, even though I realized that my mom probably wouldn’t like it because of its modern architecture. 

            I got out of the car and went up to the welcoming red door, which I found to be unlocked.  As I stood inside I wondered if I should even bother, knowing how my mother felt. Suddenly I heard the most beautiful organ music I had ever heard.

            I walked inside to see who was playing.  At least they have great music here, I thought.  Walking down the center aisle, I turned to see who was playing the organ up in the choir loft.  Before I could turn, the music suddenly stopped.  I thought, that’s weird.  Who was there?  Well, they’re gone now.  They probably went down a back staircase to that room I saw on the right as I came in.  

            It was then that I found a visitor’s card on the floor.  I decided to fill it out, thinking… Well, at least they have good music here. 

A few weeks later a Good Shepherd couple, Jap and Kathy,

called to ask if they could come for a short visit.  I said we really weren’t able to entertain because we were still unpacking.  Gently they pressed on, saying they were not afraid of the boxes.  So I invited them to come.  We all had a nice chat, ending with an invitation to go to church with them the next day.  We happily accepted. At church they sat with us and introduced us to other people.  We all enjoyed the singing and meeting the many warm and welcoming parishioners.

            My mom decided she liked the place, so we agreed to join the parish.  We were invited to become choir members.  Mom had been on the Altar Guild in our church up North for over 30 years and wanted a change.  She had been a singer in her youth, and asked me to come with her to rehearsals, so I did.  (Twenty-three years later, I’m still in the choir!)

            A few months after I joined the choir, the miracle became evident.  The choir was seated in the loft, and I suddenly needed to use the restroom but didn’t want to disturb the service by going down the steps.  I asked the late Dee Vorhees, the choir director, where the back stairs were. 

            She said, “What back stairs?”

            I replied, “The ones you must have gone down into that little room under the choir loft.”

            She remarked, “The only steps in and out of the loft are the ones in the front.  That little room below is just a closet.”

            I knew then that she could not have been playing the organ that day of my first visit to the church.  I would have seen her come

down those steps.  When I told her what had happened, she just smiled knowingly.  In amazement I said, “Dee, who was playing the organ?”

            She just smiled and said, “It must have been one of the angels welcoming you.  You’ll be aware of them soon enough.”  And I was