A Choir, A Mother, and Mozart at a Shelter

By Sofia, on mission in Brooklyn

When we arrived at the shelter in downtown Brooklyn, the room was almost empty. In one corner, there was a deaf woman who was playing music and expressively signing to a friend with whom she was video-chatting. Another woman silently sat with her head in her hands. A third lay rather uncomfortably across three chairs, an incomplete set of domino pieces at her side.

Soon, more women arrived and patiently waited to know what we were going to do together. Nhi started things off very simply, by passing around packets of church songs and inviting the women to sing with us. And just like that, we began. The women sang loudly and passionately, holding nothing back. Even harmonies were attempted.

“Have any of you prayed like that? Have you ever said: ‘I will go Lord if you lead me’? It’s a rather scary thought, right?” I said. I didn’t want to stop the singing, but it seemed like a good opportunity for deeper discussion. The women all nodded and Janet began to share her story.

For the past few years, Janet has been fighting to regain custody of her autistic son. She told us, “God answers our prayers in His time. Sometimes we want things NOW, but just because He doesn’t give us what we want when we want it, doesn’t mean that He doesn’t exist. I have been praying that I can regain custody of my son. When he was taken from me, he was put in a mental institution. He’s so young, though, and doesn’t need to be there. I have to fight my family, who wants him there, but as a mother I know what is best for him. I would do anything for him. And guess what? God answered my prayer! I am getting my son back! I also now have a job and a wonderful husband—the best man I could ask for. He really cares about my children and wants to provide for them.”

Right when Nhi and I were getting ready to leave, a friendly debate broke out: did Catholic or Protestant churches have better music? Janet was convinced that Sunday worship could and should be much livelier. As a counterargument, Helen began playing Mozart’s masses on her phone. Mozart at a shelter? Sure! Why not?

The women asked when we would come again. Helen wondered if we could bring a group of them to mass some time. When we exited the room, it had completely transformed from how it was when we arrived. The last thing I saw was a group of women seated at a table together… and Mozart was playing in the background.