It’s a custom at this church, I guess. They close the service with the “Hallelujah Chorus” on Easter Sunday, and anyone in the congregation who feels up to it may join the choir. I’m not sure why I decided to do it, but I just did. Selam wouldn’t sit alone, so I brought her. I thought she might even try singing it–the words do repeat, you know.

I took a spot with the altos. I can sing either part, but I chose the altos because they were in the back, and I thought Selam would feel better there.

Oh my.

So, at first, she thought that maybe she was missing something, so she walked to the front and decided to stand in the front row with the sopranos. Her Sunday School teacher was there on the end, so Selam stood there, and sang for a while.

Then she got tired of that, and moved back with me. This was about the second minute of the piece. She beckoned me to bend down and I did, and she whispered, “after church, can I eat the bunny?”

I nodded.

Then at a fast page turn, a sheaf of my music flew.

I pointed, and she scurried down to get it.


In order to pick up the paper, she chose to hike up her dress.

Yeah, the choir got a show, specifically the sopranos and the altos.

Then, when she ran back to stand by me, she suddenly realized that it was loud. The choir tells us that it’s really loud in the choir loft. It is.

So, Selam looked at me, looked at the front pew, considered her options, and chose to stay with me. She made her peace with it by putting both hands over her head and walking back and forth until the piece was over.

The Hallelujah Chorus runs 4-4 and a half minutes.

Or 10 years as the case may be.

By the end of the piece, I was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down my face.

I was not alone.

I believe I heard the choir director muttering something about a time for all good traditions to end.


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