Accidental Awe

I am not a religious person, but I will happily admit that churches know how to put on a show. You walk in and suddenly the ceiling is doing acrobatics, the chandeliers are posing for portraits, and the whole place feels like it is quietly saying, look what humans can build when they are really trying.

Last night I ended up in one of these impressive spaces because my ten year old was singing Christmas carols with five other schools. Nothing formal. No choir robes. Just kids being kids while a room built hundreds of years ago tried its best to make them sound angelic.

And honestly, it worked. Not because they were pitch perfect, but because the building did half the job for them. Sound travels differently in a place like that. It bounces, stretches, settles. Even the slightly out of tune moments feel charming when they echo off carved stone.

I found myself looking around more than I expected. The details. The light. The way the space makes everyone sit a little straighter without meaning to. It is hard not to admire it, even when you are not there for anything spiritual. Sometimes you can appreciate the beauty of something without needing the belief that usually comes with it.

What stayed with me was the mix of things. Kids singing their hearts out. Parents trying to watch everything without blocking the person behind them. A building that has seen centuries of events, now hosting a bunch of children singing Love Shone Down at full volume.

It was simple and chaotic and oddly lovely.

You do not need faith to feel something in a place like that. Sometimes the moment itself is enough. Sometimes it is just about watching your kid in a setting that makes the everyday feel a little bigger. A little brighter. A little more memorable than it had any right to be.