The Time to Move On

As I walked up the stairs onto the stage towards the organ, I couldn't help but sigh with relief when I realized that this was the last time I would ever have to play. As I slipped off my shoes and put my feet to the pedals, I vowed that I would play the song perfectly and walk away from the Fallon 2nd Ward on a good note, everyone thinking that I was a proficient organist. As nice as it would have been to have it happen that way, it didn't. I was supposed to play an a and an f with my left hand. Do you want to know what I did instead? b and g. Those two notes will forever curse my memory. Even though I only played the notes for a split second, they echoed in my mind for weeks. As if that was not horrific enough, my foot had slipped on the sound pedal when I sat down without me realizing it, making the sound twice as loud as usual. And then some of the weirdest thoughts entered my head. Why do people go to Thrift Stores to get things they don't need for cheaper when they could just stay home and save the money to later use on something of quality? How do people know if your eyes are open during the prayer unless theirs are open too? Why was I ever called to be a ward organist? Perhaps it is just because I haven't been an adult for very long but if someone could enlighten me as to the answer to these questions I would truly be grateful.