(Perhaps I should start with a disclaimer - I'm not much of a photographer, so no, I didn't take this picture. I found it on the Internet and thought it fit.)
Yesterday was epic. After a week of intensive practicing, the NSA choir gave our Christmas concert, "A Boy is Born," highlighting Christmas music from the era of chants, through the days of Bach and all the way to a spiritual. Each song was very, very different from the others, and Dr. Erb had been meticulous in teaching them to us for the past four months.
During the concert itself, I found myself standing in the highest front corner of the risers, right above the organ. Heights are not my thing, and my greatest fear was not so much missing a note or sounding like a bullfrog as it was falling off and crashing oh so gracefully onto the organist.
I didn't fall.
When the concert was over, I walked off the stage in a daze, not realizing it was over until I was back at home and it had time to sink in. I then went and sang Christmas carols with my sisters until my voice was crying out for mercy. I estimate that I sang for roughly five hours all told that day.
Life is good.
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