Read, Write … Sing!

Honoring Mom

Apologies for this belated Mother’s Day post.

[Editor’s note: the two links in this post are marked in bold and italics.]

My mother, sadly no longer with us, loved to sing. I remember, from my early years, that she sang in the choir at the Methodist Church in the small town where we lived. I also seem to recall that at some point she crossed the street to the Presbyterian Church and sang with the Presbyterians. I’ve never officially sung in a group, but when an opportunity to sing in a Mother’s Day choir presented itself, I signed up. What better way to honor my choir-singing mom than to sing in a choir that traditionally only performs on Mother’s Day? Okay, the choir sang on Easter this year, but it’s my understanding that the Easter thing was a rare occurrence. This Mother’s Day opportunity arose after a friend introduced me to a nondenominational church called Christ Community Church. I’m glad she did because it’s a cool church. Also, as a writer, you want to dive into new and different experiences, especially if the experience can bring you a little closer to a loved one you’ve lost.

I love to sing, but only in my car. This would definitely be an experience, getting to see and feel what it’s like to sing in front of people. Below, is an accounting of the rehearsal and that day, as it unfolded.

REHEARSAL

After diligently practicing at home, rehearsal night, the Thursday before the big day arrives. I eagerly join the other choir ladies in the front auditorium seats while the band, already on stage, rehearses their parts.

When the band finishes, the worship leader directs us to a secret ramp (at least it was a secret to me) where we’ll enter the stage on Sunday.

My insides flutter the way they do right before riding a rollercoaster. On stage, small pieces of tape on the floor indicate where each of us should stand.

Maybe it’s the “ham” in me, but I stride to a spot in front. A woman lines up on my left and at least four take their places on my right. The rest fill in the spaces behind us. I feel lovingly surrounded by all these amazing women.

The three songs we’ll perform with the band are so inspiring that anticipation zings through me. Once the choir settles into place, the band plays the jaunty intro to the first song.

We’re encouraged to move to the music in any way that feels right to us. When you allow a song to flow through you, especially when it has a lively beat, you can’t help but physically react. But what does it look like from the outside? I’m up there swaying and bopping from one foot to the next. Do I look like I’m marching in place? Do I bobble like an idiot?

Of course, there’s the possibility that on Sunday everybody in the audience/congregation will be so focused on the lyrics displayed on the mega-screen above the drummer they’ll never notice me spazzing out. But what if my motion distracts them to such a degree that everybody stops singing? In my head, that could totally happen.

Continuing in that vein: What if after the second service on Sunday, the worship leader comes to me and says, “Aud, we loved having you in the choir. But next time.” And here I imagine her giving me a kind smile. “Maybe stand in the back row.”

To ensure that won’t happen, the next day, I observe myself in front of the bedroom mirror, singing our worship songs while they blast from my laptop. After a few attempts, I think I look … well, moderately normal. That’s when I notice my tiny mouth. I discover if I smile as I sing, my lips stretch out enough to make my mouth more visible. I think I’m ready.

MOTHER’S DAY SERVICE

SONG ONE

My hair has reached an awkward length. Too short for a ponytail, but long enough that, under certain atmospheric conditions, and at the most inopportune times, individual strands will fly into my face.

While singing that first song … a puff of air from the ventilation system sends a wispy hair over my cheek. It tickles, but that’s fine. I can ignore it. The song is just that good. Until one lock slides between my lips.

We’ve all heard the expression, “Dance as if no one’s watching.” But what about, “Sing as if a hair didn’t just land in your mouth.”? Is it possible to sing praises while an errant strand tries to wrap itself around a tooth? Everybody knows you can’t sputter and claw at your face to release it. Not when you’re in a choir.

I nonchalantly swipe at my cheek but it doesn’t help. The music plays, the choir sways and I have a hair in my mouth.

Can the audience see what’s going on up here? Does my condition glow under the lights the way a spider web does on a dewy morning? Is anyone distracted by this? It’s sure distracting me. Now, I wonder how obvious it will appear if I attempt an on-the-fly hair-in-mouth extraction. It’s gotta come out. At this point, no casual hand flick will release it. My fingers must get involved. Nothing to see up here, folks. Keep your eyes on the lyrics and all will be well in about half a second.

I finally get it out and sing as if it never happened. Thank you, Lord.

SONG TWO

Unlike the big screen, which displays vibrant colors and stylish fonts, a smaller, prompter screen hanging on the back wall shows plain white text on a black background. During rehearsal, the worship leader warned us not to rely too heavily on it. “You know the words,” she said.

I do know the words, but would I remember them during the service when I’m standing in front of an auditorium full of people? To add to the pressure, the final two songs feature solos from the lead singer. As a reminder to the choir to be quiet, the solo lyrics will appear on the prompter screen in upper and lowercase letters. Our lyrics are in all caps. I know this, but in the excitement of the moment, my brain not only doesn’t recognize the different letter sizes, it forgets that sometimes we don’t sing. 

I’m singing when I suddenly realize, it’s awful quiet around here. I immediately close my mouth and briefly wonder, how did everybody else know to stop?

Between services, a woman reminds me about the letter changes on the prompter depending on whether there’s a solo or not. During that first service, my eyes thought everything looked uppercase, but now, I can finally perceive the lowercase letters. I experience that triumphant feeling you get when a Magic Eye picture turns into a 3D image after you stare at it long enough. I almost blurt, “I see it!”

But I don’t. I’m in a choir.

SONG THREE

We sing Echo Holy (Red Rocks Worship) as our third and final song. Confession: I prefer our version with a female lead over the original which has a male lead.

I love this song’s message, music, and especially the drums so much that tears threaten to pour out of me, but I keep them in. As I continue to joyously sing, surrounded by an equally joyous choir, I become aware of a sudden gap on my right. One moment, there’s a lady standing beside me, and the next … an empty space.

It’s possible to sing and wonder at the same time. It’s also possible to simultaneously sing, wonder, glance down, and find the missing lady on her knees. We’re allowed to move as we feel led. Based on the lyrics, it makes complete sense why she’s down there. It’s spontaneous, it’s unexpected, and it’s beautiful. Just like the entire experience.

At the song’s conclusion, and after the lead singer says a brief prayer, we turn and exit the stage, careful to watch for that last step at the bottom of the hidden ramp.

After the second service, we carefully make our way down the ramp one final time. We’re done, and I think we’re all better for it.

For a while, my old church also had two services. When I ran slides, all of us up in the booth, used to joke that the first service was a dress rehearsal. I won’t say it seemed that way here, but things definitely ran smoother for me the second time around. At least no stray hairs flew in my mouth, and I knew when not to sing.

Thanks, CCC, for letting me participate in this year’s Mother’s Day choir!

Happy belated Mother’s Day!