Suzy Q Homemaker

I was giddy when the adult choir sight-read through this piece during rehearsal several weeks ago.  Not just because it’s a really pretty work of music, but Jamie and I are fans of  ”The Vicar of Dibley.”  If you’re supernerds like us, you’ll have this stuck in your head for a week.  You can thank me later.

Also, I could not stop weeping once the music started.

I’m going to post videos this week of yesterday’s Choir Camp Sunday service.  The morning was full of many tears and much laughter as I had a rare opportunity to sit in the sanctuary and watch our two oldest children sing their little hearts out.  Most of the laughter came while watching Aiden.  As you can see in this video, he is…a mess.  Oh, he loves to perform, there’s no doubt about that, but I do believe we need to have a little talk with him about “stage presence”.  I’ve already begun praying for the Junior Choir assistants this fall.  He’ll be graduating into the big kid choir.  Just imagine this, but with a choir robe and a cross necklace:

As we were climbing into bed last night, I said,

“I’m looking forward to going to bed tomorrow night.”

It’s an exhausting time of year for musicians everywhere.  We have cantatas to sing, concerts to rehearse, and our own families to take care of.  I only had one additional gig outside of the St. John Christmas Eve service, so I consider myself lucky.  Instrumentalists are never as lucky as singers, but that’s why they get paid the big bucks, right?

I never really know what’s in store for the Christmas Eve service until a couple of weeks before the big day, but I do know that it usually involves these things:

• A solo of some sort
• A chance to wear a diva dress
• A late and highly stressful dress rehearsal that runs well into the night of Christmas Eve Eve

This year is not much different, though I’m forgoing the diva dress because I’m performing a duet instead of a solo.  I am certainly not disappointed since only one of my diva dresses fit right now anyway.  Approximately three months of sick children and the subsequent eating of too much takeout have done a number on my already sagging postpartum waistline.  I have hopes of reclaiming my body, God willing, but I’m resorting to yoga pants and avoiding mirrors/photo opportunities.

I don’t know why I think that the final dress will be less stressful than previous years.  We didn’t have a major piece to learn this year, so I was really hoping that we would actually get out of rehearsal on time last night; rehearsal was scheduled to last until 9:30 p.m. but we didn’t leave until 10:00.  I owe that in part to the chamber choir rehearsal not going as well as it could have at 5:45, so we stayed “after school” to pound out the Poulenc “O Magnum Mysterium”.  Of course, at this point, everyone was exhausted and grumpy, ready to get home, and pretty much tired of being around one another.  It sounded ok, though, and I think that with some rethinking of formation, it’ll come out nicely.

Today, as I look forward to the Lessons & Carols, I also look forward to being a wreck at the end of the night.  I look forward to carrying our sleeping children into the house at 1:00 a.m.  I look forward to removing my makeup, donning some snuggly pajamas, and crashing into a dreamless sleep.

The best part about a Methodist Christmas Eve service that ends at midnight?

SLEEPING IN.

I mulled over my mini-crisis for a while in the shower this morning, and again on the way back up to the house after putting the boys on the bus.  I thought at first that I would just email my choir director, but I didn’t really know what to say.  Then I thought I would write about it in my super-secret online diary, but I remembered that no one in choir reads that, and I think that I do need some input from Joe Q. Public in this situation.  Or I might need someone to slap me in the face and tell me I’m crazy.

Nonetheless!  I felt rejected and overlooked last night and it may just be a rare moment in which I feel like a selfish, ungrateful soprano.

During a rehearsal over choir retreat weekend, I was given a solo on one of the pieces we are doing this coming Sunday.  I marked it in my music and called it good.  Then in choir rehearsal last night, the choir director turned to another soprano and asked if she would sing it.

I was so confused that I did nothing.  I said nothing.  I sang through the rest of the piece without a problem and we moved on through the rest of the rehearsal as if it it didn’t happen.

So here’s the dilemma: do I ask my director if she is giving the solo to the other soprano this Sunday?  Do I assume that she was just experimenting and just needed to hear it in a different voice?

The other soprano used to be in choir before I arrived and has been touted as one of the best sopranos the choir ever had who had to move.  Now she’s back and I’m glad to have a new, strong soprano in my section.  I hold no grudges against her or have any ill-feelings about her being there.   I’m just confused about this particular situation.

If, indeed, my choir director turns to her for the solo Sunday morning, I don’t know if I should just let it go.  My feelings will be hurt, yes, because I was originally asked to do the solo.  But I don’t like uncomfortable situations, calling anyone out, etc.  Usually, if my feelings are hurt, I bury the hurt and move on; confrontation is not on the list of Things I Enjoy.  In fact, if I can avoid confrontation for the rest of my life, I would be perfectly happy.

Now that I am counting down the last year of my twenties, though, I think it’s time I stand up for myself.  I need to start confronting those who hurt me.  Maybe it’s a stupid thing to feel hurt about, the solo, but it’s a small item on a long list of things I feel need to be addressed before it’s too late.  If I start there, I can work up the courage to ask my father why he and his wife won’t come to visit the grandson they haven’t met.

Sunday, the St. John choir performed “Loving Shepherd of Thy Sheep” by John Rutter.  This has been kind of a show piece for us since we took it to Louisville and have done it several times over the past few years.  Unfortunately, Sunday’s performance wasn’t the best we’ve ever done.  It was terribly humid and overcast, so we had problems in rehearsal staying on pitch.  To top it off, I got severely distracted by a paper crinkling in the congregation and flubbed a little bit of the opening solo.  We were slightly under pitch at the end, which made the solo at the end of the piece a little iffy, too.  Something about those descending intervals…when you get used to how they feel in the voice, even a microtone can throw you off!

Now that I’ve completely turned you off, take a listen and tell me what you think.  After all, I am my own worst critic.