Today was the final rehearsal before our Messiah performance tomorrow night. (That's tomorrow night, Easter Sunday, at 7 pm, 2801 El Dorado Parkway, McKinney, Texas! Be there!)
For the third time since having my right brain assaulted by knives, radiation, chemicals, and tumor cells, I will be singing with the choir. I will be singing a duet with my husband. And I will be singing one of my favorite solos. As the orchestra began with the overture, tears of gratitude filled my eyes. Messiah is back in my life. And more importantly, the Messiah of whom we sing is in my life, blessing me to be able to enjoy this moment.
Contrary to conventional wisdom, I'm not dead. I'm not tone deaf. I haven't lost my memory. I sang most of it off-book today, because I was a little tired from Thursday's chemotherapy and I felt too lazy to stand and hold my music for three hours. All the assailants that would have taken my life, my musical ability, and my memory were no match for the power of prayer and the tender mercies of the Lord and a feisty spirit.