I have a very strange relationship with music. I know that it is because of my childhood. I also know at my age I should be past all of that, but I am not. For Lent, I agreed to sing in the choir of the new campus that our church has launched. As with most things in life, it has been a good and bad experience. And where music and I are concerned, conflict is almost always the case.
If you discount the plays I did between the ages of 5 and 9, most of my singing experiences have been fraught with angst. At an extremely young age I began to sing. I sang for myself and I sang for anyone who would listen. My parents say I would sing for the strangers in the next booth at restaurants, if given half of a chance. Being on stage singing was like heaven.
When my parents decided at the age of 9 that I needed more sleep and less theatre, I pretty much stopped singing in front of people. But I can remember going for walks around the woods near my house and making up songs that I would sing at the top of my lungs.
At about 12 years old, I decided to try and sing again and asked my father to play for me and help me to get back into theatre. He played the piano while I sang and when I was done he was very unflattering in his response. I will leave it at that since I am trying to be a better person as I get older. I will say that the comment he made broke my spirit and my confidence. I have heard those words run through my head over and over ever since.
Each endeavor I have had with music since has been a struggle, between me and myself. I agree to sing things and then I nearly fall apart in the process of making it happen. When I went back to college, I thought the training and knowledge would help me, but it only did to a point. Old voices in your head are hard to exorcise, even when you have a few new, positive ones to add in.
The only two times as an adult that I have sung and enjoyed it completely (other than alone in my office or car) is when I sang “Honey Bun” and had my hubby beside me and when I sang “No Time at All” from PIPPIN at our minister’s retirement celebration. I really don’t know why those two times were so different. Believe me, if I knew I would try to duplicate it!!
I have almost no choir experience. For various reasons, I have never really been in a choir. Several years ago, I sang with the senior adult choir at our church for two reasons. One- I loved the fact that they went outside of the church and sang in nursing homes. And two- I dearly loved the lady that was their choir director, Ms. Francis. But the main reason I did it was because she asked me so sweetly. I enjoyed singing with them and learned a ton from Ms. Francis. I was there to celebrate her 90th birthday and I sang with them for two years. They gave me solos and emboldened me to go back to school.
I have learned from some amazing voice teachers most of my adult life (through lots of turmoil I did continue to take voice lessons), but mostly while in college. I learned techniques and new music and my teachers were kind and supportive. But my confidence really didn’t grow as much as I had hoped.
Which brings me to now. I know this sounds crazy and that I am strange, but I LOVE music. I love to listen to it and read it. I love to sing while I am alone and to try for higher and higher notes and to see how long I can hold something. When I sit in a choir, I listen to the voices around me and get lost in the sound. Not to criticize or correct or to shake my head at others, but because I desperately love the sound of those blended voices. I love to hear my own voice with the other voices and I strive to blend and yet hear myself at the same time.
I have been a bit frustrated at rehearsals. I was not ready for people to act like some of them did. I was appalled when someone other than the choir director spoke out loud about what they thought or when they heard a bad note. I was not ready for the talking back to the director. I was not ready for the shaking heads and looks. (As always, I throw in that I know I am sensitive. I also know I am exceptionally careful about the chain of command- honoring your director at all costs and keeping your opinions to yourself so as not to hurt others.) Don’t get me wrong, rehearsal isn’t total anarchy, by any means. I just wasn’t prepared for any comments from the peanut gallery!!
I was hanging in there until last week. We sang “Lamb of God”, one of my favorites. I wanted to be there for that and I thoroughly enjoyed who I sat beside and how it sounded. But I had had enough and thought I would take a rest. I had been going full throttle seven days a week for weeks and I knew that this weekend was one where I could finally relax. My son had a sporting event to work, my husband would be gone on a youth event and our renovation is almost done so I could clean and read and relax all weekend. It would be so easy to sleep in and skip church.
At rehearsal Wednesday, I found out we were singing an anthem I love as much as last week’s and that the next week we weren’t singing an anthem at all, so I decided to go this Sunday and sing one more time after all. I love the accompaniment to this piece. This week I got to sit by one of my good friends in the choir, Lynn. We don’t usually sit near each other because she is singing alto and I am a soprano. But today we were sitting together talking and became the line between the two parts.
When we sang through it in the choir room the first time, I got lost in my friend’s beautiful voice. I sang softer so that I could hear her. Then our parts diverged and I realized I couldn’t follow her any more, that although she is way more experienced and has a stronger voice, I had to turn away from it and follow my own course. The first time I was hesitant and not sure that what I was singing was right. I could not hear the soft soprano next to me on the other side, so I had to just jump in.
As we ran through it, I became more and more confident that I was mostly hitting the right notes, so by the second time through I sang out.
In front of the congregation, I never know what I will do. Part of why I was ready to give up last week was because a couple of weeks back I hit a big high note that our director had cut at the last minute. I did it because someone else urged me to. (I know I broke the very rule I just stated about honoring your director, but I had rehearsed it at home all week with the high note and I felt emboldened for some reason!) My son, who listens for my voice and critiques me, said he heard the note and liked it, but that I cut it off too soon and it messed up the song. I was mortified!! Like I said, I never know what I might do in front of the congregation and being a loose cannon is not my jam!!
So today, as we began to sing our anthem in the service, I concentrated on the sound of my friend’s voice blending with mine. I really heard no one else. I tried to match her volume, her notes, and her confidence. When it was time for me to go my own way, I went to my note and loved the sound of the two voices together. I tried to listen to her and yet not listen to her. I tried to hear “us” in harmony. I tried to be the best I could be. And I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. And to think I had planned to stay home!!
When I get to work with young people, I really try to help them to get more confident. I praise them and smile and nod and get lost in their sound. I point out their strengths and help them correct a few weaknesses. I try to do what no one did for me as a kid and youth. I try to put a good and supportive voice in their head at an early age. When the middle school choir director told me the other day that all of the kids had come to him and said that I made them feel good about themselves and made them excited about performing and competing, I was on cloud nine! After all, that is exactly what I want for them. It is what I want for me.
Today I remembered that through all of the heartache and frustration, the mean voices in my head and the bad manners in rehearsal, it all comes down to the fact that I love music. It fulfills me in a way nothing else can. The whole reason I agreed to spend Lent at this other church was that not performing, not singing at all was killing me. It was stealing my joy and making me lose the music that is in me. Getting to sing such beautiful music to the glory of God makes it even better.
So I will finish my commitment to sing through Easter. I might mess up and get another bad critique from my picky son. I might get upset again at rehearsal and want to stay away. But I will try to forget all of that and concentrate on the music. And God. And what I know I can do if I just follow my notes and follow my heart.
