Yesterday in church, I played the organ as the accompanist for the congregation.  I’ve been doing this for exactly one year.  One year ago, I sat down at the organ bench, took a deep breath, and thought, “What on Earth am I doing here?  I don’t play the organ.”  And then I played the organ.  Terribly.

You know how I know it was a year ago?  Because every year on the Sunday before July 1st (Canada’s Independence Day), congregations across this great Northern country unite in singing “O, Canada” with passion and gusto.

Image from here.

And one year ago, on the first day of my stint as ward (i.e. congregation) organist, I completely botched “O, Canada.”

It was pretty bad.

But one year later—yesterday—I played “O, Canada” again.  And would you be surprised if I told you I did better this time?  As I started the (very long) introduction to the national anthem, I thought a silent prayer:  Dear Heavenly Father, please don’t let me botch these people’s national song.  Please…  Amen.

Moments later I realised, as I was playing those sweet notes, that my fingers weren’t nearly as fumbly as they were last year.  My hands weren’t shaking.  I made a few mistakes, but they didn’t ruin me like they would have last year.  Last year, when I made mistakes, it took me full measures to recover, but now, I’m better at getting back on the figurative horse (usually).

I even played the foot pedals for the last line of the song on nearly every verse.  That’s big. Image from here.

I know I’m not a very good organist; I’m not delusional enough to think I’m the best, or even close to the best.  But I made it through “O, Canada” without blushing (too much), and that was a major accomplishment for me.

I’ve come a long way, to be sure, but there’s more.  I had another breakthrough yesterday—a bigger, more pivotal breakthrough…

On Saturday night at about 9:00, I received a message on my answering machine that went like this:

*BEEP*  Hello Camille, this is so-and-so from church, and I’m wondering if we could change the closing hymn from (blank) to (blank, which is a much harder, upbeat, and overall more terrifying song than the one I had already practised as the closing hymn).  Could you call me and let me know if you’d be okay with that?  Thanks!

Do you know what I did, my friends?  I called and said I would not do it.

Oh, sure, I tried to be a bit more tactful than a flat out, “No,” but the point is…I said I’d rather not.  I said I usually practise during the week, and if it were any other song, I’d probably be okay with it, but this particular song was one that demanded quick, peppy notes, and I didn’t want to embarass myself—and the entire congregation, who would feel so sorry for pitiful me {don’t act like you don’t feel embarassed for the organist when he or she botches a song}—by completely screwing it up.

See, here’s the thing: I almost never say “No.”  I was taught not to turn down requests for help.  Truly.  It’s really hard for me to tell people “No,” and most of the time, I feel good about saying “Yes” instead.  But yesterday I thought, “Is this really going to matter?  Will people really miss out on the experience of singing this harder song, especially if I know it won’t go well?  I think they’d probably thank me for knowing my own limitations if they knew I was saying ‘No’ right now.” And then I called, and asserted myself, and said “No.”  Girl power.

A year ago, after getting a message like that, I would have moaned, griped, and whined to Poor Kyle about being taken advantage of, and how I shouldn’t have to compensate for other people’s oversights, and I don’t even know that song on the organ, and it’s so FAST, and I’d totally destroy it…but then I’d turn right around, call so-and-so with my sweetest voice, and say, “Sure, no problem!”

Yesterday, when instead I used my sweetest voice to say, “I’d really be uncomfortable with that,” I felt guilty for about an hour.  But, in the end, I have to say…it was refreshing.  I kind of liked it.  I might be on a roll.  In fact, anyone who was considering asking me for help any time in the near future had better ask soon—I might not be a nice person for much longer.

And that, my friends, is a breakthrough.

Are you proud?  Did you have any breakthroughs of your own this weekend?  Come, let’s all rejoice in the glory of life-changing moments!

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