We had an old hymns sing-a-long today at a covered dish luncheon at the church.  I am an alto, and in this day of no hymn books, no music score, and no four part expectations, I guess I am a dinosaur because I know how to harmonize.   I couldn't reach the soprano notes if I tried my hardest--so if I am going to sing, it has to be lower.

So the music director--sitting across the room--kept looking around the room--for whoever it was singing alto.  And when the hymn was over, he stood up, pointed a finger at me and said, (in front of 50 people) "Are you the one singing alto?  We need you in the choir."

To which I replied, "Yes, I am.  And no, I need another thing to do like a moose needs a hat-rack."   I figured that would end the matter.  But no, he needs an alto in the choir.  And didn't let it drop.   So I told him that my only claim to fame was not singing in a choir, but singing pop in a trio, and once, I sang back up for Earnest Tubbs."  My church music participation has always been to play the piano, not sing.

(For all you young ones out there, Ernest was one of the first country western singers.  Who wants a country-western-pop singer in the choir.  Evidently, this director does.

Spring is coming on.  I want to spend my time in the yard.  And teach a Bibld class.  And mentor these two women I have been assigned.  And write this blog.  And teach this special class coming up on Genesis.  Where in the world can I find time to sing in the choir?

Didn't I just write about this a few days ago?  About learning when to say, "No."  And yes, I know, we are supposed to pray about things like this.  Or use some wisdom.