Sing Your Song

In the little yellow house, in the corner of the kitchen, in my peter pan blouse, my middle-school self unfolds a letter. Stage dad stands to the side, pretending to be downcast, holding back a proud smile.

Opening the crisp whiteness, I read an acceptance. An invitation. An opportunity to sing. I've auditioned for the Charlotte Children's Choir, and now I can don the plaid skirt and matching vest...Sit with the sopranos and make music and friends and memories.

I miss the simplicity of that time. Third row up, sit two seats over, black binder under chair with pieces ready to be practiced. Sit on seat's edge, stifle a giggle, and stand in unison with the rest of the choir. We know the music...every lilting note, every ebb and flow, every silent pause. This is safe and learned and practiced. It's easy to sing when the music is understood.

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Holding close a sweaty head to my chest, I hum a raw and unrehearsed tune. The blessing from the ancient Book rings through my head...a blessing that had been prayed over me each night by my parents.

May the Lord bless you and keep you...

The melody joins with the words, and I continue...

May the Lord make His face shine upon you...

I feel the rawness scratching my throat. The hot tears drip from my face and land on his baby head...

and be gracious onto you...

I can't sing anymore. There are no words. Just heart cries, which I know the Father hears. Yet, my little boy's sleepy voice cuts the silence: "Sing, Momma. Sing".

May the Lord lift up His countenance upon you...

Oh, son, do you hear what I'm saying? Do you know how much you are loved? His little voice stirs my heart again, as the tears flow freely: "Sing? Sing? Momma. Momma, Sing."

And give you peace...

The tune is simple and feels safe. It is uncomplicated and without frills. I begin again and finish, as my eyelids flutter closed and sleep is fought off. The little voice pipes up. How can he still be awake?

"Sing, Momma."

Here in this moment, I find healing. Through his unaware pleas to keep singing, I find an answer.

Why stop singing? Music comes in all varieties...So does life and its hurts and joys and journeys. Sing your song, whatever it may be, through whatever you may face, in spite of that which seems to hold you back.

Let others listen. Listen to others.

The song begins again, and little one sighs contentedly. I will sing, little boy, and you will, too.

Sing your song, whatever it may be.