I couldn’t sing on Sunday.
I had laryngitis.
So frustrating for one who loves to sing.
As a child, I stood on a salt lick stage in the woods and serenaded whatever critters would listen. I pretended to be Patti Page.
I stood outside under the stars and sang “Johnny Angel” as loud as I could. Only I changed “Johnny” to “Gary,” a neighbor who was too old for me.
When I sang “Where the Boys Are,” my sister declared I sounded just like Connie Francis. She has a much better ear now.
Yeah, I’m that old.
And truth? Still, when I’m all alone, I turn up the music and sing like a real singer.
Shhh. That’s our secret.
Oh, I’ve had some singing “gigs” over the years. I sang a medley from Sound of Music when I ran for National Cherry Queen. I’ve sung in church choirs. Even sang solos and duets. Sometimes well. Sometimes disastrously.
People used to say they liked to watch me sing because I was so “animated.” I still remember how I glowed for days for “really sticking that high A.”
But I’m no Susan Boyle or Sandi Patty.
Not even close.
I wonder if David had a good voice.
I’ve thought about taking lessons. But these days I’m finding it easier to fade into the background. And at this point, it’s not a dream I feel led to follow hard after.
So how come God gave me this great desire but not the great talent?
Maybe because He wants me to sing for an audience of One?
On whatever stage and in whatever stage I find myself?
With or without a voice?
I can do that.
I will sing!
“I will sing to the Lord as long as I live; I sing praise to my God while I have my being.” Psalm 104:33 (NIV)
Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King