Stage Presence

When our oldest son, Josh, was twelve years old he had been playing the double bass for a couple of years and the Music Director of our church asked him if he would play on Sunday mornings with the orchestra so he became the only kid playing with the group of adults. I had to drive him back and forth to rehearsals, of course, and sometimes they got a little late and at Christmas there were a lot of practices, but all in all it was a good experience for him and I didn't mind.

That Fall the Oklahoma Baptists were having their annual convention in Oklahoma City and our church orchestra was asked to play one evening. The Convention is a big deal in Oklahoma Baptist life. There are about 1700 Southern Baptist churches in Oklahoma, big and small, and a whole lot of them send "Messengers" to the convention. They were holding it at Council Road Baptist Church because they had a new facility, big enough to hold everybody, and the ability to televise programs.  At the convention they have meetings all day and preaching and music in the evening and it is kind of like a loop, something going on all the time.

The only problem with Josh going was that it was on a school night and their orchestra wasn't scheduled to even play until 8:00. And besides that, I had forgotten that he was supposed to go. So when he came out to the yard where I had been cleaning up leaves and dead flowers and such all day and said "Mom, I'm supposed to be there in 15 minutes," I just grabbed a coat and ran for the car.

Now, when we lived in St. Louis there was a lady in our neighborhood that we saw out watering her lawn quite frequently, who was completely dolled up, make-up and all, for working in her yard!  I think she even had on pearls.  This is not how I dress to work in the yard. I'm pretty sure I was wearing an old sweatshirt with the neck stretched out. I know I was wearing my oldest, most comfortable, semi-transparent-in-more-places-than-the-knees-jeans, and probably the tennis shoes that used to be white but by this time may have inspired the crayon color, Burnt Sienna, in several spots. With holes in them.

The closest coat was my comfy, old corduroy from the time that Dennis and I first got married and purchased---are you ready?---matching jackets.  (We were practically still teen-agers and really in love, so what can I say? Stop gagging!) We were married almost seven years when Josh was born and he was twelve, so you add it up. Here's a hint: at the time of purchase the fashionable color was Avocado Green. Mine may have faded a little. Or a lot. The term Monkey-Vomit Green comes to mind.

Now, when I work in the yard, I may sweat a little.  Excuse me, my mom always said "Ladies do not sweat. Horses sweat, gentlemen perspire, ladies 'glow'." I probably had "glowed" about a gallon's worth. And it may have affected my hair. When I "glow" my hair goes into Cheerleader Mode.  No, not slicked back, perky ponytail. More like "Lean to the left; lean to the right.  Stand up, sit down, fight, fight, fight!" But I ran my fingers through it a lot on the way, hoping to help it.

We made it the church with about a minute to spare, drove up to the back where the entrance to the choir room was, and Josh jumped out to unload his bass. "I'll park," I told him, "and then I'll go sit up in the balcony and after you play, when they're praying you can catch my eye and we'll leave. You can't stay for the whole thing on a school night."

I know. I probably should have waited in the car, but it was getting cold and I wanted to hear him play, and I had not been to this church since they built their new building, and I really wanted to see inside. Besides, the church was huge and I was sure the balcony would be about empty and probably kind of dark.

I found a parking place nearby, for which I was glad, because have you ever had to lug a bass violin any distance? The door Josh had gone in seemed the best bet so I went in that one. I could hear people singing and there was a stairway going up right there. That was great; I wouldn't have to ask for directions to the balcony.

I opened the door at the top of the stairs. There were a lot of empty chairs just as I expected. I went down and sat in the third row from the back on the aisle. I looked around to see the beautiful new sanctuary they had built.....and realized I was on the platform. In the empty choir loft. And Dr. Bob Agee, president of Oklahoma Baptist University was at the pulpit on the stage in front of me, preaching. He didn't see me, but, maybe 1,000 people in the congregation couldn't miss. And it was being televised.

At first I just stayed there. It seemed it might make more of a scene to get up and leave, but the longer I sat there the more I thought, "The choir Josh is playing for will come in soon. They may notice if there aren't enough seats for them."  Baptists usually don't wear choir robes for an evening service, but you never know. I didn't think my outfit would blend in. There was nothing to do but gather my Monkey-Vomit Green jacket around me, go back up the stairs and leave.

Six years later, when Oklahoma Baptist University gave Josh a full-ride scholarship, besides paying all academic expenses, they also paid for meals, books, parking, and all fees.  I'm sure it was because he was an excellent student.  If anybody thought he needed all of that extra stuff because his mother was a Bag Lady, no one said.