A Joyful Noise
At a church retreat, a woman once asked me how I knew all of the songs that we were singing since many of them were so new to her. I remarked, "Oh- many of them are new to me too!" She raised her eyebrows and said, "Well you sing them loud enough!"
Sometimes things just smack you right upside the head. Apparently, my singing voice was not melodious. It was just LOUD. I've never claimed to be able to carry a tune in a bucket. I love to sing. I just don't do it well.
My husband did tell me one time that , "You could be good someday if you'd practice." Thank you honey. I practice all of the time. I sing in the kitchen when I drink my morning coffee. The first thing I do is turn on my contemporary Christian station when I wake. I dance doing the dishes. I sing in the shower, and watch out if I'm actually in the car alone with the radio! I'm sure the people sitting next to me at the light wonder if I have some sort of nervous disorder that contorts my face in a rhythmic fashion.
I know my voice does not inspire angels. I'm not sure if I actually lulled my children to sleep when they were babies. I think their slumber came from a desire to escape the reality that they were not mobile and could not get away from me, so sleep was the only other clear option to save themselves.
Fortunately for my family and its pride, the other members are musical. My husband claims to have won some singing awards in his youth and I love to hear him harmonize as he stands next to me in church. My daughter is learning to play the piano. My son is taking guitar lessons at the ripe old age of 6 and my stepdaughter has inherited some musical ability from her mother and plays some instruments.
As I belt out the praise songs in church on Sunday mornings, I do so, NOT with skill, but with joy. When I close my eyes and lift my hands, it is not because I want to be the next American Idol. I want to worship my Lord with all my might. I lose myself in the music.
Over the years, I have thought about seeking the guiding council of a trained musician so I could make my tone and pitch more acceptable to the human ear (and the canines would probably appreciate it too!), but then I realize that Jesus doesn't care. All He requires of me is desire. All He wants is ALL of what I have. He doesn't ask for me to come to Him in perfection. He only asks that I come.
So- when I dance up to the gates of Heaven, belting out the music that is welling up inside of me, I will bring Him the gift of my love, the gift of my heart and I might even sneak Him in a set of earplugs!
Sometimes things just smack you right upside the head. Apparently, my singing voice was not melodious. It was just LOUD. I've never claimed to be able to carry a tune in a bucket. I love to sing. I just don't do it well.
My husband did tell me one time that , "You could be good someday if you'd practice." Thank you honey. I practice all of the time. I sing in the kitchen when I drink my morning coffee. The first thing I do is turn on my contemporary Christian station when I wake. I dance doing the dishes. I sing in the shower, and watch out if I'm actually in the car alone with the radio! I'm sure the people sitting next to me at the light wonder if I have some sort of nervous disorder that contorts my face in a rhythmic fashion.
I know my voice does not inspire angels. I'm not sure if I actually lulled my children to sleep when they were babies. I think their slumber came from a desire to escape the reality that they were not mobile and could not get away from me, so sleep was the only other clear option to save themselves.
Fortunately for my family and its pride, the other members are musical. My husband claims to have won some singing awards in his youth and I love to hear him harmonize as he stands next to me in church. My daughter is learning to play the piano. My son is taking guitar lessons at the ripe old age of 6 and my stepdaughter has inherited some musical ability from her mother and plays some instruments.
As I belt out the praise songs in church on Sunday mornings, I do so, NOT with skill, but with joy. When I close my eyes and lift my hands, it is not because I want to be the next American Idol. I want to worship my Lord with all my might. I lose myself in the music.
Over the years, I have thought about seeking the guiding council of a trained musician so I could make my tone and pitch more acceptable to the human ear (and the canines would probably appreciate it too!), but then I realize that Jesus doesn't care. All He requires of me is desire. All He wants is ALL of what I have. He doesn't ask for me to come to Him in perfection. He only asks that I come.
So- when I dance up to the gates of Heaven, belting out the music that is welling up inside of me, I will bring Him the gift of my love, the gift of my heart and I might even sneak Him in a set of earplugs!
posted by Lori Anne | Tuesday, November 08, 2005
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