Fright Night

Last night my heart was pounding, I was out of breath and I was shaking hard enough to rattle my necklace. Why? I was practicing the song I was singing for church. My boys were goofing off on stage around me, I couldn't concentrate and it my full attention was not on the task at hand. As I shuttled the boys off to their respective classes, I wished I had never been put on the list to sing a special, even if I landed on the least coveted spot of Wednesday night, the least attended service.

I blame my mother for being on the special music schedule, she thinks my sister and I sing like angels. She really wants us to sing for her in public. In my high school days, singing in front of people was no big deal. I even sang at a few large talent shows in front of several hundred people, sure I was kind of nervous, but nothing like last night. Back then I do recall her pushing things too far in my opinion, asking us to sing everywhere we went, even family functions, I always felt like a show off, often refusing.

Down the road in life after high school, although I kept singing in choirs, I quit singing solos after a embarrassing botched audition in front of a large group of professional singers. In the last ten years, the only times I have sung in public was my grandparents funerals. Nightmares of singing plagued me the night before my grandfathers funeral and vowed to never ever do it again. However I couldn't refuse when nanny joined him earlier this year. As bad luck or fate would have it, it was open mic night at church a few nights later and we repeated the performance for my mom's benefit at church. Then again for my other grandmothers benefit at her church. That is how I ended up on stage last night, someone sweetly added me to the special schedule after that.

I know singing at church isn't really about me, it is about praising God. Technically if I am tone deaf and off beat but my heart is really in it, aren't I pleasing him? My internal Simon Cowell plays back all the bad comments I have ever heard. Why does she think she is so special? Who told her she could sing? Boring, didn't like it, get yourself a real job! Comments not made about me, but I cam imagine in them in a heartless british accent. I ask myself, who do I think I am? I am not Godly and good, I yelled at my kids yesterday, am behind on bills and in general a terrible sinner.

It is very hard to let go and experience the joy I find in singing at home or in choir, when I am by myself on stage. Whether happy or sad, I sing songs and feel uplifted, overjoyed and can lose myself and come out a better person. One of my favorite lines in a song ever is Some midnight hour, when you find yourself in a prison in your mind, SING OUT IN PRAISE and Bless his name. (I Bless Your Name, Elizabeth Goodine.) Which is a reference to Acts 16:22-40. I love that line because it embodies how I feel after I sing, even when my world is crumbling around me, I can release all that negative energy and feel renewed at the end. But that is at home, in my kitchen, usually when I am by myself.

I am afraid I will get so scared of being on stage that I will forget the song I am singing despite the words being on the podium in front of me. I tried to find a few minutes after that heart pounding rehearsal to sit down, relax and pray, not for me that increased my anxiety, for other people, so God could put his hand on my back and tell me it is okay, and for me to believe it.

By the time I went up to grab the mic, my heartbeat was calmer, I had my breath back. When I started to sing I looked around and my nerves ramped up, I heard the quiver in my voice. I saw the beads on my necklace shake violently as I drew a breath. I closed my eyes and shut out the room and just sang. As I got to the last verse, I almost forgot where I was and I was just singing, and I meant it.

Oh Cleanser of the mess I made,
With everything at your feet laid,
I watch as all my cares erode,
And from my soul these words explode

How wonderful your mercy is,
How awesome are your ways,
I come, I come,
To worship you
For all you've done

(For All You've Done, Clint Lagerburg)