The Blond Chick

Back a couple of weeks ago, I was asked to play the oboe to accompany a choir piece at another Alexandria Baptist church. As you might know, I have played the oboe since the 6th grade but with my somewhat crazy life, I don't play that often these days. I have played the oboe for my church's Living Christmas Tree for the past decade or so but that's been about it. So the thought of someone hiring me is a bit intimidating. I'm not even close to being a professional. I can play but not at that level. So the expectations were high. I received the music a few weeks ago and had I been a real oboe player, I would have pulled out the music from time to time, practiced, and gotten my embouchure in shape to play in front of people. (Embouchure is "the position and use of the lips, tongue, and teeth in playing a wind instrument," according to the dictionary. I didn't want you to think I had to actually exercise and lose weight or something to play in front of people!) But being the busy person that I am, I looked at the music for the first time a couple of hours before the practice with the choir. It looked easy enough!! The thing I forgot to mention was that I was playing alongside an African-American choir. A really, really good African-American choir. The oboe is not exactly the first instrument that comes to mind when I think African-American choir. But one of their songs called for an oboe, so I was glad to accompany. The practice was held in the group's leader's beautiful home on a recent Friday night. It was actually a really fun evening. They sing with such joy, feeling, and emotion and I think the best way to describe it was "raw praise" to the Lord. They sang a few songs before it was my turn to play and it was just a truly wonderful spirit of praise and singing. Then it was my turn to practice. After feeling my way through the song a few times, before I knew it, the practice was over and I was on my way home. At the service, I was expecting to sit off to the side and just play my song and sit back down quickly. But that didn't happen. I ended up sitting in the choir loft with the choir for at least 20 minutes before it was my song. I have worshipped in an African-American church before when I was a summer missionary in St. Louis one summer in college but this was different. I was in the choir loft in front of several hundred people. And let's just say that Brian and I were the only two marshmallows in a sea of hot chocolate and he was sitting waaaaay in the back of the sanctuary. I was just sitting there in the choir loft trying to figure out how to not be so, um, white. I thoroughly enjoyed the moment (except for when I was up on the big screen so everyone could see me!) and it was a great experience of praising Jesus- a bit out of my comfort zone but nonetheless a truly rich experience. As soon as there was a break for a prayer, I slipped out of the choir loft and went to sit with Brian at the back of the church for a really great, deep (and hysterically funny) sermon. Afterwards, I went to put my oboe away and say goodbye to my new friends from this church. As I was leaving, the leader gave me a wonderfully wrapped gift bag for my playing. I waited until I got in the car to open it and when I did, this is what I saw:I am still not quite sure what to make of it. It's a bit larger than the picture shows. It's bigger than one step of the stairs. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the gift and the token of appreciation. I'm just not sure what to really do with it. I think there might have been some miscommunication. I think the leader of the group said to someone, "Get the blond chick who played the oboe a nice gift." And that someone heard, "Get the oboe player a blond chick!" Hahahaha! So now I am the owner of a nice large stuffed blond chick. Don't worry, it's not alive and it's a lovely Easter decoration. I might just leave it out all year round so it can be a topic of conversation and I can remember that fun evening!