I’ve enjoyed singing, both the listening and participation thereof, for the better part of my life.

Well, there was a time there when I didn’t quite so much.

People got a little quiet when they sang with me and then when the truth was out, they said I was a little ‘off tune.’

Which seemed weird to me, because I thought I sounded okay.  At least to myself.

So, I asked them which way I was off, and they told me I was down just a little bit.

I worked with myself and couldn’t seem to fix the problem.

Until one day I decided I’d try singing a half step up from what sounded right.

And then they were all smiles.

Me, not so much.

Because it was hard singing a half step off, but if that’s what they wanted, I could do it for them I figured.

And eventually, I didn’t notice so much when I was singing a half step up from where I thought it should be.

And, just as eventually, they stopped saying I was off.  Whether they stopped out of kindness or despair, I guess I’ll never know.

I started really enjoying singing, learning new songs, and trying, in a redneck sort of way, to improve on what the author had done originally. 

Which was stupid.  The improving part of it, that is.

Anyway, I’ve done enough singing both to myself and with groups through the years, that I began to think I had finally mastered the art, at least somewhat.

I was fairly confident when asked to sing in a group, rarely suffering from nerves.

I new my limits. 

Absolutely no duets of any kind. 

Those didn’t work. 

I could hear myself too much I guess, and it became a vicious cycle where I toggled between okay, not okay, nerves, no nerves.

I enjoyed leading congregational singing, and I enjoyed quartets.  I probably enjoyed singing with my children the most.

So, not to appear self-righteous or anything, it did seem like it was working for me.

Until one day.  My nephew from down south called me up and asked if I could lead one of the congregational songs on his wedding. It’s true, I hadn’t done this one yet, but it didn’t seem like it would be so very different from the hundred or so other congregational songs I had led.

Except it was different.

I really don’t know what was so different, but I had a near meltdown because of nerves during that song. 

I couldn’t figure it out.  Not at all.

I decided to wait, and if I was asked to lead another congregational song at a wedding again, I’d see if I could pinpoint what was going on. 

The only thing I pinpointed was that I had the same reaction again.

I had pretty much decided to decline all future wedding engagements when a close family friend called to say she was getting married, and, could I lead the opening song at her wedding?

Of course, my pride got in the way, and I told her I’d be honored to lead that song for her.

I had a special seat near the front. 

I practically knew the song I was to lead by heart.

I had a case of nerves.

And that

And even more so when I sat down and realized I had failed to pick up a card telling me after what part I was to lead this song.

But there was a card on the bench beside me that the guy sitting by me had grabbed and I quickly memorized where I was at before he picked it up and put it in the songbook rack.

My turn soon came, and I got myself up and over to the pulpit.

Of course I shook.

Of course my vision blurred.

Of course, of course.

Karma was alive and well that morning, reminding me of my shortsighted vision when I accepted this position.

But I got through the song okay, and as I sat back down, I thought maybe I was gaining on this thing and might soon have it in the bag, nerves and all.

None of us noticed much for a little, until the preacher got up and welcomed everyone and made a few announcements.

And then we all noticed something. 

And it got really quiet as we noticed it.

Because right then was where I was supposed to lead that opening song.

The preachers looked at me, and I looked at them.

We looked down a little and then looked back at each other.

We smiled uneasily at one another, but the smiles did nothing to mitigate the silence.

I seriously considered getting back up and leading another song.  One flashed in my mind that I could lead, but I seemed paralyzed and couldn’t for the life of me get myself up there.

Eventually the preacher figured he would need to have his opening, despite the fact that he didn’t have his usual time to finalize the details of it during the opening song.

The temperature went soaring up in the area I sat, and I couldn’t seem to make myself comfortable for the rest of the service, neither did I know where to rest my eyes. 

Even the benches seemed to smirk at me, and the floor heaved with laughter, so much so that I didn’t know if I was levitating or not.

The bride to be looked over at me and offered a sweet smile, which seemed way more than I deserved.

Not sure how many years ago that’s been, but that was the last opening song at a wedding I have led, and I intend to make sure it stays that way.

I sure wouldn’t want to inconvenience the preachers again.

Written at The Bake Shoppe