Giving Thanks For Music, Community, And Courage

Today is Thanksgiving for many of our friends across the Atlantic, and while we don’t traditionally celebrate it in the UK, it does feel like a good moment to pause and say a heartfelt “thank you” for everything Stand Sure Orchestra & Choirs has become.

Some of you already know that I recently became a US citizen as well as a very firmly rooted UK one. That means days like today land a little differently for me now – I’m more aware than ever that our musical family stretches beyond borders, time zones, and accents.

The world feels heavy a lot of the time. It can be hard to find light, hope, or even ten quiet minutes in the day – and yet, somehow, we keep coming back to music. We show up on dark Wednesday evenings with armfuls of instruments, folders, teas, biscuits, and stories from the week… and together we make something bigger than any of us could create alone.

Today, I’m especially thankful for that.

Thank you to our players and singers

To every orchestral player, singer, and guest musician who has joined us – whether you’ve been there from our very first concert or you’ve only just walked through the door – thank you.

Thank you for the courage it takes to sight-read a new arrangement that looks terrifying at first glance. Thank you for the laughter when things go wrong and we get hopelessly lost in bar numbers. Thank you for the extra practice at home when nobody’s watching or applauding. Thank you for the way you support the people around you, whether they’ve been playing for five months or fifty years.

You are the heart of Stand Sure. Every note you play or sing is an act of generosity to everyone listening.

Thank you to families, friends, and cheerleaders

Behind every musician there’s usually someone else quietly making it possible:

Partners who put up with the same tricky phrase being practised on loop.Parents who drive, wait in car parks, and help find black shirts at the last minute.Friends who buy tickets, share our posts, and clap until their hands hurt.

If you’re one of those people: thank you. You might not be on stage, but you’re still part of the music.

Thank you to our audiences

To everyone who bought a ticket to “Loud & Proud”, braved the ghosts at “Spooktacular 2”, wrapped up warm for our past “Christmas Crackers” concert, or is already planning to join us for “Christmas Crackers 2” on 20 December 2025: you are the reason we do this.

When you choose to spend your evening with a local community orchestra and choir, you’re doing something powerful. You’re supporting live music. You’re keeping community spaces alive. You’re giving performers a chance to share their passion and hard work.

That moment when the final chord hangs in the air and the hall goes quiet, just for a second, before the applause starts – that’s the moment we’re all chasing. Thank you for being there for it.

Thank you for the “little” moments

It’s easy to measure success in big things: sold-out concerts, big pieces, complex arrangements. But I’m increasingly thankful for the quieter moments:

Someone nailing a rhythm they thought they’d never get. Two sections helping each other out over a tricky passage. A new member walking in looking nervous and leaving at the end of rehearsal with a grin. The sound of people chatting, laughing, and making friends over a shared love of music.

Those moments are what “Stand Sure” really means. Not perfection, not elitism – just turning up, doing our best, and supporting each other along the way.

Finding light in dark times

We all know the world feels uncertain and, at times, overwhelming. None of us can fix everything. But we can make a small difference right where we are.

Every rehearsal, every concert, every time someone walks out of Hatherleigh Community Centre humming a tune or feeling just a little bit lighter – that’s a tiny beam of light in the dark. And those little beams add up.

So on this Thanksgiving day, whether you celebrate it or not, I’d invite you to take a moment to notice the small things you’re grateful for: a favourite piece of music, a friend in your section, the thrill of playing in a group, or the simple joy of singing at the top of your lungs with other people who love it as much as you do.

A final thank you

From me, personally: thank you for trusting me with your time, your talent, and your energy. It is a privilege to stand in front of you, wave my arms around, and watch notes on a page turn into something alive.

Wherever you are reading this – on this side of the pond or the other, carving a turkey, grabbing a sandwich between shifts, or just enjoying a quiet moment – I hope you can find a little light, a little hope, and plenty of reasons to be thankful.