The rotation for leading music at church puts me on deck about every five weeks. In the days before, I invite a drummer, bass player, pianist, and a few vocalists to join me. Sometimes I ask a cellist, or a violinist. That is beyond fun. John and the twins are a blessing because they know every song we have composed in the past forty years, plus can
harmonize nicely. No predicting what cool tenor line John will add.
Over the sixteen years I have been participating there have been occasions when my voice was sub par. Sometimes it was a cold, or allergies that rendered me raspy. But I could still announce the page numbers and play guitar, so I did that. The job title is after all song leader, not song singer. Most times though I enjoy belting the words as if I mean them. Which I
do.
This week Benjamin woke up the household early Sunday morning with yelling. It was rough. Having felt like we had turned a corner with a new medication I felt especially despondent. I arrived an hour before the service to set up, but was still fragile. By the time the mikes were in place, and the music stands erected, the other musicians had warmed up and we began to practice. Except that the lump in my throat left me as quiet as a
librarian.
The sound engineer tried to make adjustments when there was nothing coming out of my monitor. But the words kept knocking me back to tears.
"He has sent me to heal the broken hearted, to give freedom to the captive and sight to the blind."
By the time John and the twins arrived with Ben I had shoved the lump far enough to be able to emit sound. Ben sat
quietly.
The service was healing for me, and I tentatively believed the prayers and promises woven into the story. Looking out at the people in the seats my awareness expanded past my own myopic vision. They had lives, and sorrows too. In the arm wrestle of hope and despair, hope won.
I realized that if the schedule had not already been in place, and someone had called at 7:30 asking if I would sing, I would have declined. There was no way
I could rise to the task. But because the commitment was there, I showed up.
Most of our relationships have days when all we can do is the bare minimum. If we wait until it is convenient, or appealing, or advantageous to be kind, most of us would never make it past the rehearsal.
