When the "band" is over, its website mysteriously disappears one day, and you find that you're satisfied with the archived pages in case you ever get around to putting them up somewhere.

When it's over, and your Bishop and his wife come to sit in one evening for the band's leadership of worship, you are so relaxed that you throw your wackiest material their way, let it rip, and give them blues names they brag about the next day.

When it's over, and they're looking for a band just like yours to lead a big event at a time and place that will be a major pain in the ass technically, you volunteer instead to do an unaccompanied workshop-- and let some other band have the "bigger" opportunity. When that other band fails to show up, you shrug later when people wish it had been YOUR band booked, and acknowledge that yes, you do have a band, but it wasn't available that day. But you know that if they had given you five minutes notice to cover for the MIA band, you could have done it with only your voices and experience, and you know it would have been better than a leaderless a capella attempt where no one really knew how the pre-printed songs were supposed to go.

When it's over, you start a new songbook full of the founding member's personal tastes, because you know that it's not too often he'll be able to come sit in anymore and play.

When it's over, you pare down prep, more and more, to the REAL essentials for the weekly church gig, and let others help more with the setup and teardown.


... Because when it's over, you just don't worry about the small stuff anymore, and it's all small stuff.

~Susan