Losing the Battle

  This is a story about an usual gift I received......
 

   The church Christmas program was last Sunday. C and I had been asked to participate. We decided that we were going to play a guitar and harp arrangement of "Angels We have Heard on High." I'd been practicing the song as much as I could for about a month. The arrangement I was using was a little too advanced for me so while I practiced it I simplified it.
  C and I started practicing together a couple of weeks before the program. If you think that this is really not enough time, you're right. The challenge is that C and I work opposite schedules and in addition both of us had to work extra hours this month. Fortunately, we've played together before. It wasn't as bad as I thought. It didn't take long for us to come up with a good arrangement.
   The morning of the program, we loaded our instruments into the car and went to church early. It was cold and the instruments literally needed to warm up before they could be tuned.
   I had decided to play Margaret, the big lap harp, because her lower register worked better for the song. Once she had warmed up I took her into an empty classroom to tune. She wasn't as out of tune as I expected. Once I had her in tune I practiced a little. There was one run that I was having trouble with. I played that phrase over and over again until it sounded fairly smooth. Then I picked her up and carried her back into the chapel.
  It was to be an all musical program. The little children sang 'Silent Night' along with one of the adults. There were two piano and organ duets. The teenage girls did a lovely rendition of "Away in a Manger". Then it was time for the Ward Choir to sing. C had asked me if I would sing with the choir. Choir practice had been sparsely attended, he was concerned that there would be a very small group. Normally I sing with the altos since there are less of them. This time I had to sing with the sopranos since I didn't know the alto part. It sounded pretty good.
   Then it was time. C and I were to play right after the Ward Choir. I took my seat and put Margaret into the correct key. Then I realised that I was sitting in the wrong seat. When we play together, I face the wall as facing the the Bishop and his Counselors usually makes me nervous. We changed seats. I sat down, positioned Margaret on the stool in front of me and positioned my hands for the first notes.
  I got through the first phrase and realised that I was in trouble. My hands were shaking.
  My hands shake all the time. Most of the time the tremor is so slight that no one notices. There are things that worsen the tremors. I've learned to avoid most of them. I've also,over the years, learned how to mange when I have what I call a "bad hand day". That is a day when my hands are going to shake no matter what.
   The challenge I was going to face for the next five minutes or so was being able to hit the notes I wanted when my hands clearly were not going to cooperate. Fortunately C and I had developed a strategy for when this happens. It's called keep playing. Sometimes my hands will settle down and do what I want them to. This was not going to be one of those times. I fought through the song hitting as many correct notes as I could on time. It was a battle I was clearly going to lose. I think I missed about every third one. I kept on playing until I had hit the last chord.
   I sat there for a minute. That's when I got the gift. A year ago, a few months ago, I would have hung my head in shame. I would have been completely humiliated. I would have been part angry,part sad and part frustrated. I would have vowed never to play in public again.
   I didn't feel that way though. I had done the best I could. Practicing more or less would not have helped. I know from experience that those flares sometimes just blaze up and then die down. I had done the best that I could in those five minutes. I took a seat off to the side so the next singer could perform. C put his arm around me and patted me on the shoulder. He mouthed the words, "It's all right."
   It was all right. After the service people came up to me and told me that they liked how I played. In the past I would have brushed off their comments as pretending to be polite. I smiled and was grateful for what they said.
   Did you figure out what the gift is? If not, I'll tell you. I'm a bit of a perfectionist. I don't like the appearance of being sloppy or unprepared. I want flawless.
  Sometimes, many times, I don't get flawless and I don't like it. I wonder if peole will think less of me. I know I think less of myself.
   The gift is knowing that all I have to do is the best I can with what I have at that moment. That's it. That's all. Do the best I can and then let it go. It will be all right.And it is....