When I was a little girl, our step-father took all us kids to a Christmas Party sponsored by the American Legion. At some point in the program, the host called all the children at the party up to the stage to sing “Frosty the Snowman.” Once up there, everyone developed stage fright and the only person who actually sang was me. I remember standing there while a photographer took my picture for the next day’s paper and thinking how neat that was.
Other than that instance as a child, I would say I have sung in public maybe a total of two or three times. You see, I have this problem—I cannot sing. At least, I don’t sing well. My range is very limited and rather low, so the soprano notes tend to come out of my mouth in a squeak or a broken line. Not pretty.
So while singing in public isn’t something I choose to do, when I am alone I sing. And I sing loudly, because one morning on my way to work, as I despaired about my lousy voice, my loving, encouraging Daddy guided my thoughts to promises learned from His Word about worship. I was reminded that when I sing or do anything from my heart for Him, I am worshiping Him. He doesn’t need perfection; He needs devotion.
I wish I could share a clear, lovely voice with the world, but I can’t; so I will just sing to an audience of One. I’ll worship God with the other gifts He has given me, because I love Him, and I cannot be silent. There are many forms of worship, after all, and they rise as a beautiful aroma to our Father.
You write beautifully! Love reading your memories ♥️
Thank you! Love you, sis!