A Chance to Sing in a Choir

This past week during our shift meeting at the Houston Temple we were invited to sign up to be members of a choir that will supply the music for our Christmas devotional meeting. I chuckled to myself, very quietly; but a chuckle none the less, as I thought back to when I was asked to be a part of the dedicatory choir for the Houston North Stake building in 1978. I looked through my files knowing I’d written about this once before; but it wasn’t to be found; this will have to do.

I’d just become a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints in September when a week later I got a call from the Elder’s Quorum President, Steve Nielson. His cheerful invitation to rub shoulders and jump into the deep end of the pool was a reminder that I’d made a commitment to improve and to grow. Steve’s friendly approach to fellowshipping a brand new member made it impossible to turn down the request. I did explain that I wasn’t much into singing. “Never mind that, you’ll do fine!” I don't think Steve ever heard me sing.

I showed up the following Saturday for choir practice at the nearly completed building and stood around waiting for someone with a key to open the door. A few others waited outside as we got to know one another. Joseph Larkin, the Choirmaster arrived and greeted us warmly, opened the door and we followed.

Temporary signs had been taped to the first two doors in the hallway, Humble Bishop and Humble Clerk. I thought their sense of humor was going a bit far. I was unaware that the sign was for the geographical area off to our east, Humble, pronounced without the “H”, and the rooms were to be for the Humble Bishop, not that he wasn’t a man of quiet demeanor or anything.

Brother Larkin, who I learned was something of a perfectionist when it came to music, had us sit in the choir seats to get an idea of what he had to work with. He had us warm up our voices with some exercises, a chance to hear what kind of range we had. He then had us sing from the hymn book; at least for a few short moments.

I noticed Brother Larkin was looking at me with something of a scowl, not an angry scowl; more like a wince. He pointed in my direction and asked, “What are you singing?” I replied, “The same thing everyone else is.” He knew right away that I couldn’t read music.

“Try moving over there…”, pointing to an empty seat at the end of the row where the basses were grouped together, “…maybe you won’t do so much damage.” Had I been easily offended that might have caused feathers to get ruffled; but I knew I wasn’t much on singing so I smiled and learned how to fit in as best I could. I was happy to be sitting with these fine folks and they didn’t mind having a total amateur in their midst.

All the songs were new to me and I practiced each hymn during the week while alone in my car, even while in my police unit driving on duty. I grew in confidence and the day of the dedication went off just fine, nobody complained about my voice, at least that I’m aware of.

My singing skills haven’t improved over these thirty years. I’ll pass on the open invitation to become a part of the Christmas choir; but thanks for including me all the same.