RECENTLY, I had a singing gig in another city. Not long before the performance, my accompanist called to tell me that he'd prefer it if I chose a different piece of music. The accompaniment was difficult, and he said there hadn't been enough time set aside to practice.
My initial response to his call was to feel the hairs bristling on my neck. Nevertheless, I'd been endeavoring for a while to replace "reaction" with "action"—to respond with Christly love, not anger or annoyance, even when a situation or person rubbed me the wrong way. So I realized very quickly that I had a clear-cut choice: I could either be angry, self-righteous, and basically unhappy, or I could love this person and respond compassionately. I sensed my accompanist felt burdened by too much work, and I genuinely wanted to help lift this weight from his shoulders.
Impelled by this desire, I immediately sat down to write an e-mail. In it, I told him how much I loved and respected his abilities as a musician. In the past, I'd been greatly moved by the music we'd made together, and I told him how grateful I was for the wonderful friendship that had developed during our collaborations.
I could either be angry and self-righteous or I could love this person.
Writing that e-mail—and expressing those feelings—brought me great comfort. I'd been suffering from a severe cold, and it looked as if I might have to cancel a concert I had scheduled for the next day, as I had no voice, and my throat and chest were inflamed. But as I poured out my appreciation for this individual, I became unaware of anything else. My focus was simply on loving. I felt confident that the accompaniment situation would be resolved in a way that was right for both of us.
The minute I sent the e-mail, I found myself completely well. Not only was my annoyance gone, but the cold symptoms had simply vanished. It was as though someone had turned a gas burner off on the stove—it was that instantaneous. I was able to sing the concert the next day in complete freedom.
And my other gig—for which I ended up choosing a different and simpler piece of music—went well, too, both for my accompanist and for me.
Glenmont, New York
