The other day, I and my choir had to sit tight for about 20 minutes while a late-running novena to Our Lady of Guadalupe, run by the Hispanic Catholics in the city, was going on.
I grumbled. Someone needed to tell me this beforehand, I groused to myself. (The pastor apologized for later for the scheduling conflict, though, to be fair, they were running late, so it wasn’t really his fault.) But this is why I like the choir: They took it all in good spirit. Most sat quietly in the choir loft (which wasn’t being used, as the music was being played on the downstairs piano). A couple folks stayed downstairs to participate in the Mass, even though they didn’t understand Spanish.
Anyway, we heard stuff like this (minus the mariachi band):
I have to admit, ’twas a pretty song. And I softened my irritation. The choir had taken the right tone, and I had not. After all, things sometimes happen. It’s always better to take a cheerful tone and roll with the punches than, well, not to.