| OCR Text |
Show 127 "I led the music, a long time ago." I am responding to their question about my "job" in the church. Almost everyone in my church has something to do. It has been so very long since I have been there. "We'd love it if you would direct the music today," they are saying, excitedly. I am wondering just how that could work since I can barely move my arms away from my stiffened body and doubt that I could manage the usual three or four verses anyway. "Oh, don't worry about that," he is saying, "we're a humble group and we usually don't do more than one or two verses anyway. We enter the chapel and I understand humility. There are several beds lining the back wall, filled with the dedicated religious, too sick to entertain the thought of even getting into a wheelchair. There is a forest of IV poles planted next to nearly every chair set up pulpit-side of the beds. The dress code appears to be hospital blue with slippers. No one is wearing make-up. I am ushered to the front, next to the organ, facing this group, and handed a hymnal. The wife is apparently also the organist because after telling me the numbers of the three hymns for today, she settles herself on the organ bench and begins a somber prelude. I am wishing for a bit more joy in her melody but as I look out over the assembly, I see smiling faces. I am smiling back, in spite of my trepidation about directing. I still haven't figured out how I will accomplish this. Nevertheless, I review the time signatures of all three pieces and scan for tempo anomalies. |
