Several Sundays ago, one of our pastors asked if she could sit with us during church. She had just returned from a trip to the Holy Land the day before, so she didn't have a part in the day's service. Now, don't get me wrong, I love Pastor Carly-she's from Rock Thrill, so you know she's awesome-plus, I'd love anybody who loves my kids as much as she does. But still, my first thought when she asked to join us was to tell her, "Seat's taken. You can't sit here."
My response had absolutely nothing to do with her. It's just that every Sunday from 11:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m., my sweet, angelic four year old turns into a rabid spider monkey, and the only way we can tame him is with a steady supply of gummy bears and candy canes. (If you think it's strange my child is still eating candy canes in April, just read last week's post. It will make perfect sense.) Anyway, I try not to advertise the fact I'm running Willy Wonka's candy shop in my pew for fear of my questionable parenting skills being judged. Then it occurred to me that it might actually be good for a member of the clergy to have a front row seat to see what happens to said spider monkey when the sermon runs long and the candy runs out.
The other reason I didn't want Carly sitting with us was that I was a bit intimidated. See, there were three great hymns listed in the bulletin, and I was ready to rock them out. There was only one problem:
I can't sing.
Actually, there was a second problem:
Carly can.
I mean, I can carry a tune, but Carly sings on a whole different level.
My college roommate, who was quite the Furman singer herself, once told me what I lack in singing talent, I make up for in passion. Looking back, that may have been a back-handed compliment, but it's a pretty good life lesson as well. So what if I'm not ready for The Voice? If belting out Pour Some Sugar On Me after a long day at school makes me happy, I'm gonna do it . . . with passion. So what if I'm the only person reading my blog? If writing these posts fulfills a childhood dream, I'm gonna do it . . . with passion.
Is there something you already love to do or something new you want to try? Find your passion and go for it with gusto. If you're waiting for the "right time" to chase after your passion, you may end up waiting forever. Who cares if you're not really good at it? Who cares if it will never make you rich and famous? Embrace your passion anyway.
After the service, a very nice lady sitting a few pews in front of us turned around, looked me dead in the eye, and said, "You have a beautiful voice." For one delusional second, I felt like Adele at the Grammy's. Then I came crashing back to reality and realized she had really heard Carly's voice, and since I have a thing about trying not to lie in church when the preacher is standing beside me, I gave credit where credit was due and went on about my day.
If you're ever in Columbia on a Sunday morning and need a soprano to back up your alto, come join me. We can sing our hearts out. Even better . . . I'll have candy.
Labels: church, family, mom, passion