My Choir Concert

Well, we had our choir concerts this weekend-- one Friday night, with another one this afternoon. Let me tell ya, I am beat. My head is killing me, possibly a combination of my sinuses being clogged, and having to sing "in the rafters" for nearly ninety minutes straight. I nearly didn't make it, though. Although I felt the Lord was with me, strengthening me.

This season has been tough with all the times I've had to "whine" about being sick. I really hate making any type of excuse for my poor performance, but David needed to know why I continued to struggle singing that dang solo. I tried, honestly I did. I would practice at home nearly everyday, trying to make it sound flute-like, just as it was meant to sound. But with my sinuses being blocked it has been difficult to find the right placement. For the most part, I think David has been quite patient with me, with this (seemingly false) sense of hope that I would be fine to sing it. This afternoon he snapped... just a little.

I was tired, had woken up from a nap about an hour earlier. I attempted to warm up in the car (yeah, right), chugging water all the way. In the choir room, David decided to have us run through the last section of "Hymn to St. Cecilia". I slumped in my chair. Oh no, I'm not even warm! Of course, that's the section including my duet and solo. Not wanting to wear myself out, I sang the duet pretty weakly. Then my solo came. I mustered up all could (which wasn't much at that point), and he stopped me mid-phrase, looked at me with apparent irritation, and told me, "Krissy, you're sharp." I thought, I am never going to get this right! He was about to go over it again, when, thankfully, he realized that was pointless. He said, "And this is why I don't like to go over stuff right beforehand. Nerves get to people..." Ya think? Why didn't you just stick to your original policy? I was extremely frustrated. Nikki tried to cheer me up, and the choir members really tried to encourage me-- "Break a leg, Krissy!" "You're going to fine." I said a silent prayer in my heart that I would remember the Priesthood blessing Kevin had given me Thursday night. I was greatly comforted knowing the Lord would grant me the strength to make it through and share the talent that has been given me.

We got to St. Cecilia and I felt my stomach fill with butterflies. It went fine up through the duet. As my solo neared, I was so close to turning to Amy next to me, elbowing her and asking her to do it for me, but I fought the urge, took a deep breath, and sang. Nah, it wasn't perfect. But it was much more than I could have done on my own at that point. I started to run out of air at a bad spot, but ended up just taking one in the middle of a word just before a fairly long phrase (for me)-- heck, it's a freaky poem anyway, and no one understands a word of what I'm saying. It think it came off well, though. I have no idea what David thought. He was probably disappointed that it didn't sound the way he had intended, but I really did the best I could, and I suppose that's all anyone can ask. I'm only a wimpy, imperfect mortal, after all.

I really wish I didn't care what David thought, but I do. He's my director. I want him to be pleased with what I do-- not ashamed or embarrassed.

But at least I know that my Father in Heaven would never be disappointed in me for trying my best, and for fighting my worst fears. So, I suppose that, in spite of what David thought, I should be satisfied in knowing my Father loves me and is pleased with my efforts, no matter the imperfections.