Somewhere in my closet is a box. In that box is “stuff” from my childhood that my mother or I thought was important enough, or meaningful enough, to keep. Medals, ribbons, artwork (I use that term loosely, because I have no discernible artistic talent), school papers and the like, occupy that box. There’s also a caricature of me.
I remember sitting for this cartoon at Astroworld. The sketch artist scrutinized my 7-year-old face carefully and started to draw. As he reconstructed my forehead, hidden by loooooooong hair and my somewhat prominent nose, he asked me questions.
What do you like to do? What do you want to be when you grow up? What’s your favorite song? Do you like broccoli?
At that time in my life, I wanted nothing more than to sing onstage. I wanted to be a country singer, like Crystal Gayle. Two years later, I cut my hair short, reminded myself I had neither brown, nor blue eyes, but green ones, decided I couldn’t really sing and gave up the dream; but in that moment, my cartoon me was a country singer with cowboy hat, boots, fringed skirt and microphone.
Recently, I overcame my extreme fear of singing in public to join Sacred Edge, our house worship band. Everyone has been really encouraging, and I love worshiping through song. I haven’t sung OUT, though. If no one heard me, that was fine by me. In fact, I am pretty sure I turned my microphone off that first Sunday, because I was so scared.
Hear this, you kings! Listen, you rulers! I will sing to the LORD, I will sing; I will make music to the LORD, the God of Israel. – Judges 5:3
Today, I sang. Today, I was asked if I was interested in singing a solo. Today, I remembered what it was like to be a 7-year-old who didn’t fear the sound of her own voice. Today, I thought that if I am to sing a solo, I’m not going to choose something easy. I’m going to go big like a kid having her dream drawn out before her. Today, I stopped listening to my music en-e-my, that part of myself that says “you can’t sing” and I showed it who was boss, not me, but my God who asked me to praise him with everything he’d given me.
What instrument do you play? If you sat for a cartoonist, what would your cartoon drawing look like?