The Sound of Music

I did an experiment this holiday season to see if music could bring me the Christmas spirit.  I wanted to regain some of the peaceful and festive feelings I had in my youth.  There is nothing more nostalgic than music, unless it is a certain smell, like gingerbread or a Sunday roast.  As part of my experiment, I again joined the ward choir as a "temporary guest artist," like I did last year at Christmas.  I still had a glimmer of hope that maybe I really could sing, and I just didn't know it.

Golda and Ruby were called a couple of years ago to sing in our church choir. Our choir director, Kathy Johnson, is a remarkable woman.  I would encourage my children to be in the same room with her for an hour a week no matter WHAT she was directing.  If she was asked to teach people how to stare at a wall for a solid hour, not only would my kids be there, but they would be part of the best group of wall starers you've ever seen.  Kathy makes everyone feel like the best there is.  It would be hard to quit choir after someone says to you, "You have no idea how vital you are, how much I love you and how wonderful I think you are."  How are you going to answer that?  "Great, thanks.  Anyway, I'm too tired for choir practice, so..." 

So Golda and Ruby keep going, and I'm jealous.  I want to be in the choir, but I can't sing.  No really, I can't sing.  I know people say that, but I really can't.  I can't sing high enough to be soprano, but I can't hear harmony, so I can't sing alto either.  But I CAN read music, so I thought to give my meager musical offering by practicing with the choir for the December 23 Sacrament meeting.  Just to demonstrate how dire the situation is, here is a video that horrifies Golda and makes wild animals all over the neighborhood bury their heads in their paws.  I'm laughing, which has the same effect as what I do in the choir, which is to cry.  I get into the spirit of the music, and it makes me emotional, so my voice gets all wavery and high.  I just want to give you a reference point when I say I'm a bad singer. Ba-ad.  With two syllables.

After choir practice one day, Ruby said that I sometimes "get overconfident and then...yeah..."  A squawky solo results.  Dear Kathy Johnson always pretends not to notice and she always says that we were lovely.  I pretend she is talking to me, but I know deep down that me coming to choir practice is like bringing a burnt pie to a potluck.  Nobody wants it!  I am always hoarse after practice, too, so I know I'm doing something wrong, but I don't know what.

Nevertheless, the choir and I sang our three songs today, and, even though my voice was strained from yakking at my cousins all night, I can say that I got more out of the meeting than I would have, had I not put in the time for the musical offering.  It could have just been the fun of watching Scott wrestle Tziporah and Ptolemy from the quiet comfort of the choir seats.  Ironically, I still did what I always do during the opening and closing songs:  Not sing.  You don't see that in the choir very often.  Oops.

My conclusion for my Christmas experiment is that from the Tabernacle Choir to the 8th grade orchestra, ya gotta have the music.  As for participation, we should play to our strengths, and for me, that means turning in my choir folder.  If I get choked up in the audience, as opposed to the choir, it's easier for my children to show their faces in public afterwards.  Right now, my girls are watching The Sound of Music, and the Von Trapp family is singing their good-byes as they sneak out of the talent show.  I'm sneaking out, too.  I climbed this mountain.  I forded this stream.  I followed every rainbow to choir, and I found my dream:  Listening.

Let this be a lesson to you, kids.  If at first you don't succeed, quit already!  You're no good!  Go find something you're good at.  Like eating all the Christmas candy.