I used to be a pretty good singer; not a trained or educated musician because I don’t really read music. I know enough to follow the notes up and down and I was gifted with an ear to hear harmony. Maybe not the correct harmony, but a pleasing one.
As I’ve become
more mature older, my vocal chords won’t cooperate. They crack and move and produce sounds that are foreign to my voice. And I worry about it. Singing, even if only in the shower or alone in my car, (yes, I get the crazy looks) is such a joy. And I don’t want to lose that.
While I used to belt out the National Anthem at ballgames and praise songs and the beloved-but-in-danger-of-becoming- extinct-old hymns, I now sometimes just move my mouth. Shame on me!
A couple of Sundays ago, I sat in front of a young lady I didn’t know. She sang loudly compared to the rest of us mealy mouths that sit in my area, and she was just a tad bit sharp or flat. I told you I didn’t read music. Anyway, she was off! I stopped even moving my mouth for a few bars or measures or stanzas. Didn’t I tell you I don’t read music? What if people think I’m the one singing those notes? At first I felt sorry for her and wondered how many times the people in front of me had felt the same way for me. Shame on me!
This morning in my quiet time I am reading Psalm 98. “O sing unto the Lord a new song…make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all the earth: make a loud noise, and rejoice, and sing praise.”
That lady was singing joyfully! Next Sunday, if she sits behind me, I may even try to harmonize with her. If not, congregation beware, let the moving and cracking begin. I might be singing a new song. Or at least it may sound like a new song.