Laughing in the Face of Disaster

I had to play last night for our annual Carol Request Night service. My friend and fellow accompanist who handles the piano end of things came in while I was playing prelude pieces and offered me a hit of Pepto Bismol. There's nothing quite like request night when you're at best an amateur musician. I laughed and declined, but I can't say it wasn't a good idea.

Once we got started, no one wanted to make a request. My friend and I, who can just barely see each other across the top of the various instruments, just gave each other one of our long, speaking looks. Once people stopped being puzzled by the ability to choose, the requests came in fast and thick. There were at least two that I didn't know at all, and judging from the bemused gaze that my friend gave me in the few seconds that we had while rustling hymnal pages, she wasn't too familiar with them, either. We did a quick bit of sight reading and chord-fudging and got through it, though.

By the time it was over, I felt like I'd been wrung out and left to dry. That's when it was time for me to sing my solo. At least all the nerves I had been saving all day had already been expended. I didn't have much left to get nervous with, and I think "What Child Is This?" came out okay.

Despite all the nerves, it was a good service. It was lovely to hear all the carols sung, and it was wonderful as well to play all of them at once. When it was done, I felt better than I have in a long time. Some of the Christmas spirit I've been missing as I wait for my upcoming surgery flickered into life, and I am working hard to nurture that fragile spark.