Last year I intentionally pumped energy into three areas of my life. I took a course by the Gottman Institute to help me understand how to help relationships grow. I participated in a quilt class with a group of sewers, some of whom are more accomplished than myself. Lastly I signed up for a writer's workshop over the summer that infused fresh ideas to that craft. But there was one slender slice of my routine that went overlooked. 

 

Once a month I lead music for the informal church service. My training in this area is practically non existence. In fact I began playing the guitar and composing songs before anyone told me I couldn't. Or could. Those first tunes from back in high school were simple, like the Little Lost Lamb, and Wait on the Lord, and yet people are still belting them out. I recorded them on a cassette tape, one at a time, and sold them for five dollars. Twelve of my most tender creations in exchange for enough money to buy a sandwich. But then it never was about money. Last week I unexpectedly opened a check for the royalties of book sales in 2018. Enough to order a smoothie. 

 

My boss, if you can call him that when it comes to being songleader, invited the whole gang to all work together, as opposed to the division of labor that happens throughout the year. There I was with six other musicians whose experience includes music school and professional gigs. It was a chance to be led, and learn. How novel. I heard him divvy up parts, in a way that I often forget to. Oops. He introduced the idea of scat, which means we all crank up the doowops and have fun. He purposely chose a song we did not know, just for the perspective that offers us, as we sometimes introduce unfamiliar songs to the congregation. 

 

It worked. I feel more like a part of a team who creates a vital component to the worship experience. Funny how an effort to combine our talents seeps into our ability to do it alone.