I love the musical numbers from Glee.
I used to sing. It was my first identity, my favorite escape. I had an amazing opportunity that I passed up after High School. That train left the station more than a decade ago; I was blessed with my oldest son when I was 19. I don't regret my choice, just that I stopped, let the dream fade out. It is true that you lose what you don't use.
I sing for Jesus. I sing for my babies. In the car. In the shower. In my head... and I tell myself it's enough. Because it has to be. Still, I go there in my dreams, to a dark stage, the cramped green room, the dizzying heights of the catwalks and the sound of the fly system. Downstage to dangle my legs over the edge and stare up at the sound booth, waiting for one light, one mic. To dig down into my soul and pull out the song that makes me... me.
If only I wasn't petrified of being heard. Can you believe it? Horrific stage fright. I've always been back row blessed in choir, and tend to belt the whole time.
Glee stirs up old memories that I can't run from and honestly don't want to. I loved dancing in character shoes until I couldn't stand up. "Run it again!" my director shouted as he banged the drumsticks together. Gladly. Opening night jitters, closing night tears. The memories compete for attention to the point that I can't separate them, but I'm left with the feeling. The need.
To let out what God put in.
The Word says to, "Write the vision..." (Habakkuk 2:2) I'm auditioning for the Praise and Worship team at our new church on Saturday. Church is the one place I let go, because it's not about me, or the faces, it's for His Glory. I miss my choir in Minnesota so much it hurts, but I believe God has a ministry here for me. It's time to stop wasting time.