When I Got the Call

This is what I was writing when I got the call that my mother had been rushed to the hospital. I was still writing when my sister called back to say she was dead.

I actually got up early enough for choir today, and despite my better judgment, went. I decided to ride the line between being anxious about the possible music choices and my need to interact. I walked into a service that was all music, all the time, because the choir had toured Europe over the summer and they were doing all their “greatest hits.” I sight-read everything, and thanked the conductor for choosing pieces that were easy enough for me to do so… and she gave me an INCREDIBLE compliment… “they weren’t… you’re just that talented.” It’s true, I was on my game today, but normally sight-reading is my biggest musical downfall because I am too dumb to math.

Everyone was *overjoyed* I was back, and Ingrid said, “man… you sound really good.” It’s because I felt good, and, as I half-kidded, “I have bad back problems and I couldn’t take one more Sunday in the pews.” They are seriously made of hardwoods and hatred. I am sure they are more comfortable without a corkscrew scoliosis, but for me, they make the nerves from my back to my legs go numb and the part of my spine that sticks out a bit rough and painful. I haven’t seen a massage therapist in years, and I’ve never seen a chiropractor. Need to remedy that……

I thought of my mom the whole time, because she would have wanted to buy every piece for her own choir, especially one in the style of Andre Crouch/Mark Hayes. I just need to rewire my brain to think of my mother during church services, because thinking of how much fun we’d have together if she was there makes my day. In fact, I told her that if I did any solo stuff at CCC, I’d love for her to come up and accompany me. One Sunday she came and played a solo during the offertory when I was preaching at Bridgeport in Portland, and my sister and I cried all the way through it…. and then she cried all the way through my sermon. Turnabout is fair play.

During the service, there was also a slideshow of the youth on their mission trip in Atlanta, which I really wanted to attend as well but couldn’t take the time off from work. Off course the work was really meaningful, but my jealousy started eating my lunch when I saw the photos from “World of Coca-Cola.” #bucketlist

The things they were doing in Atlanta also need to be done here in Silver Spring, so really must advocate for that. Some parts of SS are tony and look a little Portland, a little Alexandria. Some parts are just flat poor and torn up. If we’re really going to be the church instead of attending one, it needs to be a priority to get out into those neighborhoods and beautify. That can take on many forms, from feeding people to rebuilding porches and cleaning out yards.

Maybe I’ll bring it up when I get to youth group tonight. Action creates inertia.

After youth group, I am meeting a woman I met on OK Cupid (hopefully)- no solid plans yet but we are overjoyed to have found each other, because we are both Houston born and raised, both sopranos (has done Italian opera, I have eaten spaghetti). Where we differ is that she is a lawyer and I just like to argue a lot…. although I do have a paralegal certificate, so………..

She got into HSPVA, but moved the summer before 9th grade and didn’t get to go. So her exact words to me about it were “jealous as hell.” Forging new friendships is so exciting, free dopamine for someone who could really use it.

Speaking of free dopamine, still looking forward to meeting up with my precious Pri Diddy. Tuesday can’t come fast enough. I would seriously have to be dead before I missed that meeting. I say this because I am a bit sniffly today, taking Zyrtec and Sudafed PE and probably going to stop on the way home tonight for some real Sudafed and some Afrin.

In other news, my douchebag roommate moved out. He was nice enough, but he had two flaws. The first is that he was a raging homophobe behind my back and nice to my face… and he never cleaned anything. Anything. If it was a “shared” responsibility, it was my responsibility. Hoping that male or female, the next roommate is both eye candy and OCD.


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