Christmas jitters

So I'm suffering from a slight case of the Christmas jitters. More specifically, from a case of "performing at the candlelight service" jitters.  Yes, I got roped into singing a duet during the Christmas eve service tonight. And while I seemed like so much fun last Sunday, right now I'm wondering once again, why I just can't say no. Seriously. I must have some really poorly resolved childhood issues to explain this complete lack of spine when it comes to bowing out of things.

Anyway, when it comes to childhood issues, this fear of singing during a church service can actually be explained by a minor childhood trauma. You see, the last time I performed during a Christmas eve service was probably around twenty years ago - I was supposed to play something on the piano, and messed up royally. And I do mean royally. As in, even I was cringing in my seat, but nothing I did came out right. And all of that in front of a packed church. Now that may be adorable when you're five, but not when you're a fully grown young adult, and you volunteered to perform yourself. So back then I vowed I would never do anything by myself again during a Christmas eve service. Ever.

Which of course explains why tonight Beth and I will be singing an a-capella version of a Christmas song that has the range of the American national anthem: "O Holy Night". It started off so innocently; last Sunday, our service ended with that same song. And as it truly does have an almost impossible range (it starts on a middle C, and one of the final notes is a high E), most of the twenty seven people who were in attendance, grew very nervous and started to sing lower and lower as the song went higher and higher.  Except Beth and me. She was sitting on the right side of church, her alto part carrying clear across the sanctuary, while I was, once again trying to imitate Mariah Carey/Celine Dion/Kiri te Kawana, by belting out the soprano part on the left side of the church. After all, a day not spent singing your lungs out is a day not lived. And that, of course, caught the attention of the chaplain. It also didn't help that after the service, we had an impromptu carolling session in the sanctuary, with Beth and I having more and more fun as we discovered that our the timbre of our voices was almost exactly the same. After completing a very exciting version of "Silent night", the chaplain asked us if we wanted to sing during the candlelight service. All the other congregation members were in favor almost immediately, as it's not often that our small service gets to contribute to a combined parish service, but we were a little more reluctant, finally agreeing providing we could sing the "Silent night" rendition we had just sung. Of course, not a problem, the chaplain promised. He would just check with the other songs on the program, and call us the next day.

The next day, our dear chaplain called with the request that we sing the mother of all Christmas songs, "Oh holy night". And I, as usual, said, "Of course!". Why I said that, I still don't know. Our chaplain is the nicest, most laid-back man you will ever meet in a uniform, and I'm pretty sure if I had asked if we could have sung a less challenging song, he would have been perfectly fine with that. But no. I went all southern, said that "sounded great", and we would be at church at 6pm on Friday.

Now Beth is a lot more confident about this than I am. We spent three hours yesterday practicing with various forms of harmony, and she thinks we're going to do great. Since I'm the one hitting that incredibly obnoxious high E, and don't have half the experience singing that Beth has, I'm a little more worried. Actually, a lot. I dreamed about the performance all night, with each dream ending progressively worse: I lost my voice, we showed up for the Catholic mass by accident, Beth changed the song selection, and I had no clue what I was doing. I woke myself up several times, humming the last part to this monster of a carol. Oh, and once I got over that, I dreamed about work. Night just doesn't get any better than that.

On the upside, husband-dear is very content. You see, at yesterday's rehearsal, Beth and I agreed to not sing until we got to the church today. And that means the poor man gets one entire day without having to listen to showtunes. If that's not an early Christmas present, I don't know what is.