The Dreaded Organ

So about six months ago I was called into the Bishop's office. I was released from my calling as Laurel advisor and asked to be the Ward Organist. Interesting enough, I don't play the organ. The Bishop explained that the new organ we had was actually an automatic organ. He said his 3 year old could do it. Well, if a 3 year old can do it, than most certainly I can! Of course, he said with a smile, "You will actually be more of an organ operator." So I accepted, but I was still hesitant.

I had a quick organ lesson by the stake organist...who by the way showed me the organ shoes I could purchase if I really got into it! I most assuredly told him that I was just an "organ operator" and wouldn't be purchasing the shoes. Being an organ operator involves dialing up the hymn on the computer and pushing a series of buttons to start the intro and to start each verse.

The first Sacrament meeting I played, there was a glitch. The organ stopped playing on the second verse. It started again on the 3rd and then stopped again on the fourth verse. Because I do play the piano, I quickly started playing, but since I don't play the organ, the pedals were not involved and it sounded like a very half ditch effort at best.

A few weeks went by where everything went well, but you can never trust an organ too long. Once again, it betrayed me. The hymns are dialed up by a computer. When I went to dial up the hymn, it was all in Spanish. I quickly shut the organ down, while the congregation...and me...waited for it to reboot. When it finally did, it began playing "Joy to the World"....in February no less. The organ was redialed and began playing the hymn. It played the introduction and then continued on to the verse....only it wasn't the verse...it was the introduction again. AAAAGGGGHHHH! The substitute chorister stopped the singing and said, "Let's start over." And so we did.

Well, along comes April. Things seem to be going well. Until today. Every song the organ belted out was off tempo. My poor sister Ginger is the chorister. She is just waving her arm to the music. Three quarter notes are held for one count...one count notes are held for three counts. It was a disaster.

The one thing I can say is that I make sure that everyone knows I am not an organist and I am not the one screwing up. It is that blasted organ. During the prelude, I will start the organ and then go get a drink of water. Or during the hymn I will itch my nose or turn the pages of the hymn book to the next hymn. Anything so the congregation knows I am not responsible!

Sometimes people say they move to get out of callings. I am not moving to get out of this calling...but it is definitely one of the benefits of moving :) I can say that I don't get flustered when this happens because the last five years of my life have made me no stranger to embarrassment. I am now so use to embarrassment that I just take it all in stride. It is just one more story I will have to tell in the coming years. But I will say, with my whole heart, that I will celebrate next week when I play that *#%@ organ for the very last time. Sorry people in the ward...the entertainment will be over!!!!