Oh, dear God in heaven, three months until our wedding and I'm turning into Bridezilla -- in my own special way.Am I getting nuts about the flowers, dress, shoes, or food? No, I am not. I'm becoming a crazy person over . . . the liturgy. Last night's mini-meltdown was over service music. I truly have absolutely no reason to be surprised by this.
After all, I can play five instruments (badly) and read music (well). My participation in music ministry has included singing in the choir (relatively well). One season with the Westminster (Choir College) Community chorus.
I was raised by classical music snobs who also managed to download Gilbert & Sullivan operettas plus decades of musical theater into my developing skull mush. I was schlepped to Leonard Bernstein's and Thomas Schippers' Young People's Concerts during the late 1950s and early 1960s. With cred like this, who wouldn't be a wreck over the music program for her wedding?
Good news: none of this is being inflicted upon some poor music director. Instead, it's just me and Dan, he with the Episcopal church's 1982 Hymnal on his lap; me with a 2009 edition of Breaking Bread on mine. And conversations that include me asking, with an edge of hysteria in my speaking voice, "What do you mean Episcopalians don't usually have cantors?"
Ah, pre-wedded bliss: an evening sorting through hymns, anthems, and psalm settings. Not like our wedding will include karaoke, but I really want stuff I already know.
This Magnificent Hymn Has Already Made the Cut
