Letting Go of Perfection, and Enjoying the Ride

I’ve been going to a nearby sing-along Messiah for eight years or so. The soloists are always first rate, the conductor excellent and infectiously joyous, the musicians superb. And, generally, the pews are packed.

But this year was different. My sister came along for the first time since we used to go with a crowd of friends in Chicago back in the 1990s. We were a few minutes late because the Web site hadn’t listed the time correctly. The pews were only two-thirds full, perhaps as a result. So, we arrived at the close of the opening music, and the soloists dove in… and so did we, shortly thereafter.

When we were done, the woman on my sister’s other side began to comment about the dismal turnout, and we carped a bit about a couple of the soloists, one of whom, a beautiful altoist, for some reason sang the bass solo. (To be fair, we complimented a couple of the others.)

After we left, I told my sister I was sorry it hadn’t been better. “I liked it,” she said. “I didn’t know any of the stuff you guys were talking about, about how it’s been in the past. I liked it.”

Her comment reminded me of a retreat I took once that I was told later was considered less than successful for one reason or another by the organizers. But I’d never been there before, so I didn’t know about the things that went wrong. I just enjoyed it.

What my sister said also reminded me that perfection really isn’t what I seek each year when I walk into that church. You see, I can read enough music to know when the altos come in and when the notes go up or down, but basically, I’m tone deaf and have a very limited range. Yet, I love to sing. “The Messiah” gives me an opportunity to do this, because perfection isn’t expected, any more than God expects it from me.

If you had asked me immediately afterward how the sing-along was this year, I would have said, “It was okay, but there weren’t very many people and they messed up the starting time and…” But now, if you ask me, thanks to my sister’s perspective, I’ll smile and truthfully say, “It was great!”

By Melanie

Melanie Rigney is the author of Radical Saints: 21 Women for the 21st Century and other Catholic books. She is a contributor to Living Faith and other Catholic blogs. She lives in Arlington, Virginia. Melanie also owns Editor for You, a publishing consultancy that since 2003 has helped hundreds of writers, publishers, and agents.

4 comments

  1. How hard it is sometimes to let go of the way things used to be or the way we’ve always done it! But it’s so worth it to open ourselves up to the new and the now. And your reflection is so fitting for this time of year when Christmas traditions can sometimes prevent us from receiving a new incarnation in our hearts. Thank you!

  2. Thanks, ladies. It is true, isn’t it? Sometimes the greatest growth and beauty comes when we’re brave enough to let things be other than “what we always do.”

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