Agnus Dei, Lord have mercy (part 3)

I realize it's taken me three days to blog about the Agnus Dei performance, so I'm going to wrap it up. This wandering focus has been an issue for me in writing fiction as well - this "digression within a digression," as one of my wonderful draft readers noted when reading my latest manuscript. See? I just did it again. Now I'm all set to go off on a fiction-writing tangent.

So, yes, I was a bobblehead. Similar to what Lorelei shared in the comments about her Coppelia performance, my head started to tremble as soon as we took our places on the risers, and it lasted through the entire first song (which was slow, meditative and Gregorian chant-like, making it impossible for me to conceal my bobble head by bouncing a little to the rhythm). I don't know how the soloists do it - how they step out into the spotlight, microphone in hand, knowing that any little warble or off-note will be magnified throughout the sanctuary. I actually thought at one point that I should just walk off the stage because I was probably being such a distraction, and then I thought, "No, that would be obnoxious. If I'm going to look stupid throughout this whole cantata, then so be it. This isn't about me, anyway." Which was when the trembling stopped. Because I was right. This wasn't about me. It was about God's love, and his goodness and mercy toward us. My job was to stop obsessing about how stupid I looked and SING. So I did. And it was awesome.

Afterward, during the dessert reception downstairs, my husband looked surprised when I asked him how bad the shaking looked. "What shaking?" he said. Yeah, right. So I asked our son, the master of brutal honesty (who once told me, after I'd had my morning coffee but hadn't yet brushed my teeth, "Mom, not to be mean or anything, but your breath smells a little like poo."). Now he just looked at me and said, "What shaking?" So, apparently, all my worry was for naught. Apparently, my head doesn't shake as bad as it did in college, when the tremor was visible from several rows back. And the thing is, even if it did, who cares? The next time I'm lucky enough to dress up and sing about the greatest love in the world, I'd better be prepared for my ears to start wiggling spontaneously and my nose hairs to catch fire if need be, because the dressing up and the excitement and the singing won't be about me anyway.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

Agnus Dei, Lord have mercy (part 1)

Agnus Dei means "Lamb of God," and it's also the title of the cantata we sang last night - my first big choir performance ever (not counting the Sunday mornings when we've sung single hymns in our choir robes and then left the stage). We had to get there an hour and a half early for a final light and sound check, and the same thing that makes cars run better when they're clean must apply to choir singers when they're dressed up fancy in matching ties and scarves, because we sounded G.O.O.D. I could see it on the music director's face when we ran through "This is Love," which is basically the message of John 3:16 set to music. He warned us that the danger in doing well in rehearsal was that we'd slack off during the actual performance, so we were under strict orders not to overdo it. Still, we knew. When I looked at my fellow altos their eyes said Oh, yeah. Twenty minutes before show time we stowed our stuff in a back hall closet and I commandeered the utility bathroom, where I shellacked my hair into place and redid lipstick. Then it was downstairs for corporate prayer and I Love Lemon tea for the vocal chords. And I was fine. A little choked up, maybe, knowing that this first big concert was also likely to be my last with this group I'd grown to love and admire over the past few months, but overall just fine. Upstairs in the foyer we arranged ourselves for the entrance, and when it was time to walk down the aisle to the opening oboe notes of "Agnus Dei" I felt fully prepared to give all that I had in glorious, worshipful song. My family was seated smack dab in the front row, and I threw them a jaunty smile as I passed. Who could have foreseen that less than one minute later I'd be a bobble head?Follow @nicole_mcinnes