I have been blessed with many angels in my life, and Mary Levine was one of the brightest.

I drove to Seattle in May of 1995 with all that I had - a few clothes in the trunk, lunch food on ice in a Styrofoam cooler, enough money for three weeks' sublet, and a list of names from my Memphis voice teacher of contacts to call. I was driving to a place where I could build a new life for myself, one that fit this time.

Mary Levine was my 114th phone call. To my amazement, she said "yes" when I asked if I could crash callback auditions for The Secret Garden, a show she was conducting at Seattle's Civic Light Opera. The first time I saw Mary was in the cafeteria of the school where Civic Light Opera holds its performances. I was standing nervously in the line of 'Lily' finalists when I noticed Mary at the piano, a box of tissue on the bench beside her. I remember that she apologized once for the tears streaming down her face as she listened to one after another of us sing,

A year later Mary was diagnosed with terminal cancer. The entire community put on a benefit concert in her honor. We reprised excerpts from all the shows that Mary had conducted during her career in Seattle, and the original actors and singers traveled from all over the U.S. to appear and pay tribute. I was chosen to sing the solo in the grand finale from Candide, and once again I watched tears on Mary's face as she made her way to the stage to hug and kiss every single one of us.

Mary was a remarkable woman. Her unforgettable laugh and her sparkling spirit were infectious; all of us around her were infected, and glad of it. Perhaps her greatest gift to us was the experience of watching as she faced her own death. Over and over again I heard her say, "I'm not afraid. The doctors think I should be afraid, but I'm not afraid. I want to be with Joseph. He's waiting for me." Mary was courageous, but it wasn't her courage that struck me (courage is what you muster when you are afraid of something). It was her peace.

Mary and her sons created in her honor a scholarship for young artists, and one recipient was to be chosen per year. I was the first recipient. Mary herself presented me with the award at a dinner during her final days. "I'll be watching this one," she said to her guests as I sat by her side trying to maintain my composure. "This one has what I call 'the power,' that undefinable quality that draws all eyes to her when she walks onto a stage." Mary believed in me. I have reminded myself of her words a thousand times in my moments of discouragement since her passing.

In the weeks before her death, Mary listened to a song every day that brought her comfort, "Canticle of Love," which was written by a Carmelite nun in the Northwest. It was performed at her memorial service, and months later I recorded it in Nashville in her honor. I have included an excerpt here.

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Thank you, Mary!