The last few days have been some of the hardest of my career so far- but oddly rewarding. I've never had to perform a large role right in the midst of a nasty illness before. I've done things under the weather, but it's very different when you wake up with ZERO voice and know you have to sing an opera that night which really only has 3 major characters. I'm pretty stress resistant, but THAT is stress. It's all about faith. Faith that your body won't totally betray you- Faith that God actually can intervene and save me from 3 hours of ignominy. And these last two performances have actually happened- and I've sung, not always my best, but my voice has come out and at times actually worked. It has been a blessing to go through this here with this company and cast, who have been tremendously helpful and supportive. It's funny- on Wednesday I hoped for a miracle- hoped that I would get onstage and have my voice restored through some divine intervention. What actually happened was probably way more instructive. I learned that I can get through a really tough night and that I can rely on my technique. The miracle was that I had the hardest performance of my admittedly short career, and when it was over, I felt happy. The conductor here is awesome. He seems totally pleased that I can earn my stripes during this production, and when I'm struggling to sing through some phlegm ball in my throat, I look down in the pit and he's smiling at me. I'm still holding out for a good voice day on Sunday's closing though.
In the meantime, there are a few things that distract me from paralyzing fear during the day.

There is a great playground within walking distance and we've had some nice warm fall days. I love this action shot even though it's blurry.

I love how Colin doesn't have to worry about anything. He is so unfettered by anything other than where his truck is.

Ann has also kept me together and looked out for my rest. She brings me tea with honey and tells me that my warming up sounds good, even though it's totally busted. She gets up early with Colin, and is now telling me to stop blogging and go to bed. I would be SO sad to be alone here.
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  1. andi said...
    Oh, Brian ... that is the nicest thing I think a husband can say about a wife and family. At the end of the day it would be SO sad for all us to be "here" alone. You should write a book that teaches all husbands how to say, nea - sing exactly these words to their wives. We are such simple creatures.

    How did closing night go? I'm on freakin' pins and needles now.
    malia said...
    Awww, Brian! I loved this post! It reminded me of why I like you so much. I've always admired your faith and your ability to look at every situation and really learn from it. I think this post illustrates that, albeit short and tailored for a blog. :) I'm sure you did fabulously! I would have loved to have heard it.
    april said...
    hey guys, i've been out of the blogging world for a week or so. this was definitely a nice post to read and i loved seeing the wild jumping pictures of colin (plus it was fun to recognize the pillowcase - brings back memories of my days in the basement). anyhoo, glad your illness was a faith building experience (which was what our primary program was about yesterday) and that you worked with such supportive staff. my guess is that your "sick" voice would still blow me away. glad annie took such good care of you and do let us know how the last performance went.

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