Last night, the girls and I went to choir. I assist with Katie's group, and the twins sing with the younger group. For the next several weeks, the two groups are rehearsing together for the big Easter extravaganza. 30ish 5th graders to 3 year olds standing still through a song that lasts 5 minutes is a testimony to the diligent work of the other leaders (I, thankfully, run the soundboard). There are, of course, the shouters, flashers, mumblers, fidgeters, nose-pickers, face-makers, and my favorite, behind-scratchers. But all-in-all they sounded pretty good.
The previous week, the adult choir director asked Katie if she'd be willing to sing a solo. My ever-so-shy one jumped up and down, wanting nothing more than to sing for the masses. Ms. Jo then approached me to see if I'd be willing to sing a duet with Katie. After my heart restarted and in some weird moment of weakness, I agreed. We were handed a stack of music books last night with pages marked with songs she thought we'd like. Next week, we'll start rehearsing.
I sang in my high school choir, did some musicals in college, and enjoyed a few moments of kareoke stardom, but church? Yikes. What was I thinking?
I know exactly what I was thinking. I get to sing with my daughter. Just writing that brings tears in my eyes.
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