I Still Can't Sing

I tried to sing a bit when the choir went through the morning hymns, but there wasn't enough voice. I could sing everything an octave lower, but I sound like a bull dog growling. I don't think the congregation will want to hear that. I asked my resident tenor to lead the hymns. He graciously agreed.


Our regular pianist was playing for this one last week before he leaves for China. His ministry music group Proclaim! is touring in his home country and will be gone for a month. He had tendered his resignation last August, and we have been looking for a new accompanist with little success. I have been amazed at the candidates who applied - what a variety of backgrounds and abilities! But we had yet to discover the right match for our services. So it was bitter sweet to have him back for one more service, knowing that it would be his last for some time. He will stay on as a sub only.

The search reminds me of how I ended up playing as a substitute for the services in my father's church when I was in high school. I had taken a few lessons on piano here and there, but was far from accomplished. Had I applied for a job I would have been laughed out the front doors and invited not to come back. But our long time organist passed away unexpectedly, and there was no time to find a substitute before the Sunday services. I got drafted. Not asked, told.

Being young, I was blissfully unaware of the reality of the situation. I was most comfortable on the piano, so the first Sunday I simply played everything from the front of the sanctuary where the grand piano stood. I don't recall what the choir did since they usually sat in the organ loft in the back of the sanctuary, but the next week, after some pointed comments, I found myself sitting at the organ console, too uneducated to know that I should not attempt translating piano on my own.

The instrument was an old tracker pipe organ complete with hand crank bellows. You could get some SOUND out of that baby! And I was happy to cut loose and steam ahead full bore. I bet that set the matrons of the church on their ear! Nonetheless, I was allowed to continue for some time since organists were hard to come by.

One Sunday, unbeknownst to me, the mayor of our fair little town decided to attend our services. There I was at the organ busy encouraging our parishioners to go deaf. The problem with playing l-o-u-d is that you can't hear anyone sing, not even the choir members sitting right next to the organ. After all, the pipes were squarely in front of my head.

I miscalculated which verse we were on and ended up playing an extra verse in its entirety before I realize that the congregation had finished singing awhile ago. Ah, me. The poor mayor never came back. No one said anything really. I mean, they were over a barrel. It was me or nothing. I suspect had my Father realized what was coming, he would have opted for nothing.

Eventually they found someone to play and I was quite happy to relinquish my duties to a more knowledgeable musician. Needless to say, when I encounter competent church accompanists as I have in so many of the choir director positions I have held, I totally appreciate their gifts. Here's hoping we find someone soon. I would hate to put this church through another season of torture waiting for the right musician.