The End of the Beginning (or Time to Say Goodbye?)

Sunrise over the Sea of Galilee

There are some songs that follow you as you wend your way through different parts of life. Songs that are significant at key moments and keep popping up, as if they are there as a reminder to take notice of what you are experiencing. 

There is one song that I first met years ago and which I have gone on to sing hundreds of times in different versions and which has often marked an important moment in life. No matter how many times I sing it, never loses its signficance.  This song is Time to Say Goodbye, by Francesco Sartori and Lucio Quarantotto.

I first heard it in 1997 when I was staying with a close friend who was living in Germany at the time. It was a huge hit there, sung by Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman, and was played everywhere. I remember heading back to my home in France and making a beeline for the shops (because we didn't do streaming or downloads or, frankly, even internet then!) and buying the single, playing it over and over. It was a beautiful song but it was also a reminder of the wonderful, carefree and happy week I had spent with one of my best friends. It still takes me back to fairground rides in Kiel and walking and talking for hours.

By the time it had made its way from Europe to the UK, I was back living in England. Given that my voice was/is pretty well-suited to the song, I began to sing it at lots of concerts and events. I sang regularly with brass and wind bands and an arrangement was created for that - sung in halls and at festivals all over the place; the song began to represent fun times shared with M, his sister and good friends who also played in the bands. (It was from these nights that it gained its other name - the Tagliatelle Song - as I may have been known, just occasionally, to add the odd pasta name into the lyrics on the odd occasion I had a lapse of memory....) 

I have sung it many times as part of the quartet with which I sing. Again - happy times performing with good friends and the added delight of mixing our voices in glorious harmonies, which is a privilege that never grows old. 

I have sung it at funerals (hard, hard, hard) and at several weddings (joy!)- including my youngest brother's and M's sister's. It will forever be associated with special, important family occasions and will always bring me back to mental pictures of my mum crying in the front row (she always cries when I sing - she tells me they're happy/proud tears and I trust her...). 

Inevitably, over the last couple of weeks, as I've said goodbye to my wonderful placement church and my extraordinary college family, this song has run through my head over and over, its melody - sometimes quiet and understated, sometimes soaring and glorious - chiming with with the real mixture of emotions I have felt at the endings of two amazing, transformational experiences and excitement at the experiences to come: ordination in 11 days and curacy at what seems to be a loving, welcoming, exciting and active church. 

There's one more thing about this song, however, which has made it even more special as I've said my goodbyes: 
It didn't start life as Time to Say Goodbye. 
That was a title given to it afterwards. If you listen (there's a link at the very bottom), the rest of the song is in Italian. Being a singer who never likes to sing something she doesn't understand, I checked out the words early on and they are nothing like a final goodbye. The original title is Con Te Partiro - 'I will go with you.'  

A rough, paraphrased translation of the chorus would go something like: "I will go with you to new lands, new experiences that we will share. I will go with you over seas, on ships that may not even exist anymore." This is a song about adventure, shared experience and memories and the fact that they are done together. That's what makes them special. It's not about parting. It's about staying together, linked by love and friendship, even if you can't always be together physically. 

As I've said my goodbyes, I've been clear that there are friendships I take from college and my placement church that will last a long time. Memories and experiences with college friends, in particular, that even our families won't have been able to fully share and which leave us bound together in a kind of loving understanding. Kindnesses shown to me that revealed God's love and care living in those communities and relationships that will sustain me and teach me for years to come.

All of these friends and experiences from the last two years will go with me as I step into the next bit of this adventure. Whilst there has been lots of joy, it has by no means been the easiest of two years and I have taken time in the last week or two to try to slow down a bit and take in all that has happened in training, in church, and with family and friends. And the song keeps playing in my head - ready to carry these memories, just like it has carried so much of significance over the years.  

I'm aware that all of it goes with me, God will use all of it - the easy, joyful stuff and the challenges - to shape me, to mould my actions for the better, allowing me to do better... to be better. 

Most importantly, I feel like God is singing it to me. He will go with me. He will never leave me. As I embark on this new journey - to the lands of ordained ministry and on uncharted waters for me and my family - he will stay close, teaching me, transforming me through what I see and do, and reminding me of all the others who have journeyed with me and continue to journey with me, wherever they are, who mean so much and who have been such a big part of the adventure so far. 

Click 'play' to hear a live recording of Con Te Partiro sung by our quartet, Espressivo.