Happy Easter!
Apr. 20th, 2003 10:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kayreAs a friend said earlier... “Christ is risen, but our organist is about to sleep like the dead.”
Friday service went very well. One of the weirdnesses about Methodism is that, having given up the Saturday vigil service, we often decorate the churches for Easter after the Good Friday service (“since everyone is here anyway”). So after the quietest, most solemn service of the year, we rush back in and start putting up the white and gold and lilies and whatever other decorations folk have come up with. This year “whatever” included butterflies, a symbol of new life... including a 3-foot long monstrosity made of shiny purple plasticy stuff with fluttery fringe. Luckily that disappeared before my practice session on Saturday, so I was spared the effort of causing it to have a terrible accident. (I do wish I had pictures of the pastor wearing the thing on his head.)
Saturday was a day of rest and recreation other than the inevitable practice session. I yielded to the temptation to practice at full volume for a while.. and when I left, children playing in the church parking lot called out “Cool music!”
This morning... I asked a pianist to cover sunrise service. Arrived at the church at 7:45, just as that service ended. Managed to squeeze in a few minutes of warmup between the dance group warmup and the handbell choir warmup. First service went well, other than the shock of discovering, when the communion hymns came up a bit short, that the congregation was unable to sing a verse of “He Lives” from memory. Had 10 minutes between services-- long enough to eat a few grapes, visit the little girls’ room, and run through part of my offertory. Ditto between second and third services, except that my wonderful husband brought me a lemonade. Played reasonably well throughout, including my postlude, which, though not the ubiquitous Widor Toccata, was quite challenging.
Family carted me off, placed food in front of me, then took me home and tucked me into bed. 90 minutes later the kidlet “quietly” asked if I would wake up so we could go geocaching, and we spent a lovely hour wandering the trails in the park the GPS led us to. Many many wildflowers, including jack-in-the-pulpit, dogtooth violets, white violets, trilliums, marsh marigold, Dutchman’s breeches, wood anemones and spring beauties. Mayapples will bloom soon.
Friday service went very well. One of the weirdnesses about Methodism is that, having given up the Saturday vigil service, we often decorate the churches for Easter after the Good Friday service (“since everyone is here anyway”). So after the quietest, most solemn service of the year, we rush back in and start putting up the white and gold and lilies and whatever other decorations folk have come up with. This year “whatever” included butterflies, a symbol of new life... including a 3-foot long monstrosity made of shiny purple plasticy stuff with fluttery fringe. Luckily that disappeared before my practice session on Saturday, so I was spared the effort of causing it to have a terrible accident. (I do wish I had pictures of the pastor wearing the thing on his head.)
Saturday was a day of rest and recreation other than the inevitable practice session. I yielded to the temptation to practice at full volume for a while.. and when I left, children playing in the church parking lot called out “Cool music!”
This morning... I asked a pianist to cover sunrise service. Arrived at the church at 7:45, just as that service ended. Managed to squeeze in a few minutes of warmup between the dance group warmup and the handbell choir warmup. First service went well, other than the shock of discovering, when the communion hymns came up a bit short, that the congregation was unable to sing a verse of “He Lives” from memory. Had 10 minutes between services-- long enough to eat a few grapes, visit the little girls’ room, and run through part of my offertory. Ditto between second and third services, except that my wonderful husband brought me a lemonade. Played reasonably well throughout, including my postlude, which, though not the ubiquitous Widor Toccata, was quite challenging.
Family carted me off, placed food in front of me, then took me home and tucked me into bed. 90 minutes later the kidlet “quietly” asked if I would wake up so we could go geocaching, and we spent a lovely hour wandering the trails in the park the GPS led us to. Many many wildflowers, including jack-in-the-pulpit, dogtooth violets, white violets, trilliums, marsh marigold, Dutchman’s breeches, wood anemones and spring beauties. Mayapples will bloom soon.
