This post is a little more serious, for as you know, this is my journal, and this is a story I knew I had to add inside of it. For about five weeks ago I had this cello song, "A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief", a very powerful heartfelt song by an LDS author. I had been practicing it for several weeks and thought I was ready to play it for church.
I needed a piano though.
Our wards music director is just next door to me, so I went there and asked her to be my pianist. She gave us five weeks before we were to play it at church. We actually didn't end up practicing as much as I thought, because for four of those five weeks, the music directer was sick and couldn't practice with me. We only had two practices and one in the empty sacrament room where I would be playing later that day. When we played it in there, it sounded okay, but not good enough to play in front of a congregation. I did it anyway.
It was the scariest thing I had done in my life.
If I would have been more prepared, it wouldn't have been as scary, but I felt I wasn't ready. As the time grew nearer and nearer, anxiety overwhelmed me. I started biting my nails, I started shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I wanted to leave. I wanted to cancel it right before I was to play. But I didn't even have the gut to do that, for the ward members would be upset that I backed out. So I got up and grabbed my cello, my body shivering on the chair I was sitting on.
Than I played.
It was a long song, and normally this song would go shorter and shorter the more you play and get used to it, but that concert felt like hours. When I first played it, I played it well and smoothly. I started to feel confident that god was helping me play this piece and that I was going to be alright.
But then I started to get to the higher notes. Notes that reached higher up the finger board. I was still in the process of getting those notes in tune. I messed up, but I still continued playing. My mind started to wander to worrying about messing up, but I still continued to play. I looked at my family, my sister was whispering to my mother. I started to doubt that she was whispering about how bad I was. I goofed multiple notes because of my thoughts.,
I continued to play, the notes getting better and better until, what it seemed, hours of playing this five minute piece, I finally finished. I felt weak and my body felt like it was going to fall to the floor and drown in it's own tears. I placed the cello in the back and quickly returned to my seat. A couple of tears leaked down my face, and I needed a tissue, so for the remaining bit of sacrament meeting, I rushed to the bathroom. I held back the tears, wiping away the couple that found it's way out of my eyes. When I came out of the bathroom, the meeting was over and dozens of people were congratulating me. I couldn't say thank you otherwise I would choke in my tears again.
I was overwhelmed with the spirit and failure, mixed feelings leaving me to choke in tears. I returned to the nearly empty sacrament meeting to grab my scriptures and my mom congratulated me.
There I burst into tears. Several of our fellow sweet-hearted women approached me, thanking me for the spirit that I brought into the meeting. Many asked why I was crying, but I couldn't answer, all I could say was I was overwhelmed. The hugs they gave me comforted me and I returned to class.
Once I was calmed down, my mother asked me what made it so overwhelming. I told her how I was upset that I messed up so many times and how I was doubting too much. My mother mentioned that the spirit was so powerful in the meeting, it brought tears to her own eyes, for nobody in the entire meeting had heard me mess up because they too were overwhelmed with the spirit. She mentioned that even people from the other ward, waiting to enter the sacrament meeting after our ward was gone, had entered to hear me play. Tears were brought to me again.
It was something I will never forget, something that other people may find easy to play in front of a hundred or so people in a solo. But this was my first time and I didn't feel like I was ready, but I did it, and I sure feel good about it.
I needed a piano though.
Our wards music director is just next door to me, so I went there and asked her to be my pianist. She gave us five weeks before we were to play it at church. We actually didn't end up practicing as much as I thought, because for four of those five weeks, the music directer was sick and couldn't practice with me. We only had two practices and one in the empty sacrament room where I would be playing later that day. When we played it in there, it sounded okay, but not good enough to play in front of a congregation. I did it anyway.
It was the scariest thing I had done in my life.
If I would have been more prepared, it wouldn't have been as scary, but I felt I wasn't ready. As the time grew nearer and nearer, anxiety overwhelmed me. I started biting my nails, I started shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I wanted to leave. I wanted to cancel it right before I was to play. But I didn't even have the gut to do that, for the ward members would be upset that I backed out. So I got up and grabbed my cello, my body shivering on the chair I was sitting on.
Than I played.
It was a long song, and normally this song would go shorter and shorter the more you play and get used to it, but that concert felt like hours. When I first played it, I played it well and smoothly. I started to feel confident that god was helping me play this piece and that I was going to be alright.
But then I started to get to the higher notes. Notes that reached higher up the finger board. I was still in the process of getting those notes in tune. I messed up, but I still continued playing. My mind started to wander to worrying about messing up, but I still continued to play. I looked at my family, my sister was whispering to my mother. I started to doubt that she was whispering about how bad I was. I goofed multiple notes because of my thoughts.,
I continued to play, the notes getting better and better until, what it seemed, hours of playing this five minute piece, I finally finished. I felt weak and my body felt like it was going to fall to the floor and drown in it's own tears. I placed the cello in the back and quickly returned to my seat. A couple of tears leaked down my face, and I needed a tissue, so for the remaining bit of sacrament meeting, I rushed to the bathroom. I held back the tears, wiping away the couple that found it's way out of my eyes. When I came out of the bathroom, the meeting was over and dozens of people were congratulating me. I couldn't say thank you otherwise I would choke in my tears again.
I was overwhelmed with the spirit and failure, mixed feelings leaving me to choke in tears. I returned to the nearly empty sacrament meeting to grab my scriptures and my mom congratulated me.
There I burst into tears. Several of our fellow sweet-hearted women approached me, thanking me for the spirit that I brought into the meeting. Many asked why I was crying, but I couldn't answer, all I could say was I was overwhelmed. The hugs they gave me comforted me and I returned to class.
Once I was calmed down, my mother asked me what made it so overwhelming. I told her how I was upset that I messed up so many times and how I was doubting too much. My mother mentioned that the spirit was so powerful in the meeting, it brought tears to her own eyes, for nobody in the entire meeting had heard me mess up because they too were overwhelmed with the spirit. She mentioned that even people from the other ward, waiting to enter the sacrament meeting after our ward was gone, had entered to hear me play. Tears were brought to me again.
It was something I will never forget, something that other people may find easy to play in front of a hundred or so people in a solo. But this was my first time and I didn't feel like I was ready, but I did it, and I sure feel good about it.