This morning, I fumbled some lines and forgot some cues on the way to what would be an exceptionally normal comeback.
After being absent in the scene for more than a year, I once again donned the long-sleeved barong for this morning's mass. I arrived early to practice reciting the readings only to find out that I was supposed to be the commentator. It was the 31st National Disability Rehabilitation and Prevention week and two blind lectors where chosen to read the Scriptures.
I initially freaked out at this change of plans. That's because, on the one hand, being a mass reader was no sweat. All I had to do was memorize the cues when to go to the lectern and, after the readings, participate as part of the laity for the rest of the mass. But on the other hand, being a commentator was a different thing. It meant I had to consciously familiarize myself again with the flow of the mass and jot down a few things to remember by. In the end, there was no turning back. I was the commentator and, with sweaty palms and shaking hands, I did my job.
Fortunately, everything ended quite pleasantly. I did what I had to do and forgave myself for some nasty errors on my part, all of which will be forgotten by parishioners as the days trod on. The good thing about this exercise was it helped calmed down my nerves and reassured me that I still have it (whatever that is).
...which reminds me that I have another assignment on Tuesday. Hope I would be less of a nervous wreck by then. And sometimes, I do wonder where my self-confidence goes for vacation.
Oo nga naman, Lord?
After being absent in the scene for more than a year, I once again donned the long-sleeved barong for this morning's mass. I arrived early to practice reciting the readings only to find out that I was supposed to be the commentator. It was the 31st National Disability Rehabilitation and Prevention week and two blind lectors where chosen to read the Scriptures.
I initially freaked out at this change of plans. That's because, on the one hand, being a mass reader was no sweat. All I had to do was memorize the cues when to go to the lectern and, after the readings, participate as part of the laity for the rest of the mass. But on the other hand, being a commentator was a different thing. It meant I had to consciously familiarize myself again with the flow of the mass and jot down a few things to remember by. In the end, there was no turning back. I was the commentator and, with sweaty palms and shaking hands, I did my job.
Fortunately, everything ended quite pleasantly. I did what I had to do and forgave myself for some nasty errors on my part, all of which will be forgotten by parishioners as the days trod on. The good thing about this exercise was it helped calmed down my nerves and reassured me that I still have it (whatever that is).
...which reminds me that I have another assignment on Tuesday. Hope I would be less of a nervous wreck by then. And sometimes, I do wonder where my self-confidence goes for vacation.
Oo nga naman, Lord?
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