A Chorus of Compassion
The Tallahassee Area Threshold Singers give the gift of presence
When the Tallahassee Area Threshold Singers gather, the energy in the room changes. The air slows and softens as their voices intertwine, singing in gentle harmony, not performing but offering. The songs are simple, repetitive, and tender, chosen to calm the mind and open the heart. It’s not a concert, and there is no charge. It’s a gift of presence, given freely to those who are ill, dying, grieving, or healing.
The Tallahassee Area Threshold Singers (TATS) is part of the international Threshold Choir organization, founded in California in 2000. The Tallahassee chapter began in 2013, sparked by local musicians exploring Threshold Choir songs in singing circles and workshops. When someone asked who wanted to start a Threshold Choir locally, Susan Smith stepped forward.
Smith’s motivation came from personal experience. She shares, “Before I ever heard of the Threshold Choir, I sang at my mother’s bedside as she was dying. Then when my dad died, my sister and I sang for him. I later sang for his partner as she died.” Those moments shaped her dedication to
this work.
Though Smith holds a degree in voice from Florida State University, she spent her career as an educator. Music was a fixture in her classroom, but directing TATS marked her first time leading a choir. “It’s an incredible experience to feel the music in your body and be connected to the people singing with you,” she says.
When invited to sing for a client, Smith organizes a small ensemble, usually a trio or duo. They often respond to requests within hours and sing in homes, assisted living facilities, hospitals, and hospice. The singers bring no instruments, no amplification, and no expectations. Their songs are filled with love and peace but are not tied to any specific faith.
Unlike music therapy, which often uses familiar songs to evoke memories, TATS chooses unfamiliar melodies, several composed by the singers themselves, to help the listener stay present. “If someone is trying to relax or let go, we don’t want to pull them back into their memories,” Smith explains. “Our songs are simple, so we can sing them over and over again to bring comfort and peace.”
Every bedside session unfolds differently. “The anchor [lead singer] responds to what they see,” she says. “We might start in unison, add harmonies, or come back to one voice. It’s about recognizing what’s needed in that moment.” The music guides both the listener and the singers toward stillness and eases the process of transition.
For Smith and her fellow volunteers, these experiences are deeply moving. “I remember one gentleman who was dying around Christmas time. His hospital bed was in the living room, with the Christmas tree. His wife sat by him, their children nearby. He was enfolded in his family. It was beautiful, and I thought, ‘This is the way it should be.’”
These bedside moments don’t just touch families, they shape the singers, too. Many describe it as a privilege and find personal growth through this practice. They learn to listen, respond, and be present. Some members attend rehearsals for years before feeling ready to sing for a client; others never sing at a bedside. “They come to our rehearsals just for the sense of community and for the singing,” Smith says.
TATS gathers regularly to rehearse, share stories from visits, and support one another. Singers reflect on moments that have touched them, especially with families they’ve grown close to, and they honor those who have died. These moments nurture individual well-being and strengthen the group. “We learn from each other’s experiences,” Smith says.
For Smith, this work has become a profound part of her own preparation for life’s impermanence. A two-time cancer survivor, Smith has received the same comfort she offers others. During her most recent treatment, members sang for her. “They came out every Sunday. It was terrific,” she recalls. “We sing for each other because somebody needs it all the time.”
