I can't believe I messed up that song!
Today is the World Day of Prayer and I was asked to sing a very pretty Kyrie in Guarani from Paraguay. I had that baby nailed, memorized. I even learned a new chord on the guitar.
But when I arrived, there was a harp where I usually sing. Then a group of old ladies went up on stage with a tent where I had decided to place my mic.
It's my turn. I have to trek across country for my guitar. I had to put the mic wherever. I brought my music, but I couldn't read it. I just crapped out. I ended up singing it in normal Latin. Humility in a good dose.
I will learn to let the sound man set up the mic. I will not accept to sing when my son is competing in the Bach class at the Music Festival and I'm supposed to be chaperoning my daughter's middle school band on the island. My dear friend has just fallen and broken her elbow and is in excrutiating pain. And my husband is still doing tests for his stroke but won't slow down or rest.
I'm firing on all cylinders, but there's an interruption. I've also been nauseated for over a week. The metalic taste of fear.
Let me sleep it off and find new light in the celebration this evening of more piano performances to just listen to and enjoy.
The angel blanket is done and blocking on the bed. Phew.
