I sang in church yesterday with a few of my friends. I was actually nervous! Thankfully we prayed for help and the Spirit was present. We somehow pulled it off. (Good idea on the praying for help, Holly!)
I quit voice lessons last September, and I have felt rusty ever since. Hmm... no. I think I felt rusty even then.
Yesterday people kept telling me, "I had no idea you could sing!"
My response: "I used to be pretty good."
It made me think a bit about where I've been and where I'm going. And where I am.
I started singing as a wee pup. I dreamed of Broadway and probably would have made it if I'd given myself the chance. I was on a roll. But I made other choices and now... I hum melodiously as I walk down Broadway. Does that count?
Goodness knows, I miss singing so much. Living in New York doesn't offer much in the department of "sorta singers." These people are pretty "profesh", and I have no intentions on setting my sights so high anymore. So I settle for Sunday's hymns and the Messiah Sing-along at Christmastime. For today, it's enough. (MOTAB will have to wait!)
Last night I was with some friends and we all voiced some dreams for 20 years from now. I spoke of a blissfully boring life: raising a family of smart and grounded kids, volunteering with the school and in the community, helping the women and girls of the world, and being married to a man who still took me out on dates and held my hand. From the viewpoint of a hard-nosed career girl who has somehow accomplished most every goal she can get her hands on -- that life seems pretty dang rad!
We each then dreamed of what life would be like in just three years, which some people were scared to talk about! My dreams were once again simple. They involved a family, scaling back my career, and a few personal challenges: publishing my first book, teaching a class at a university, run another big race, and I'd really like to have taken a sailing class by then. Maybe more Spanish too.
But more than anything, I dream of continuing a happy life filled with the twists and turns that we each are thrown on a regular basis. I keep learning the lesson that I actually have very little control over what happens next. But I dare to dream! And I learn more and more about allowing miracles into my daily life. It's pretty great.
The other night I was walking home from work and conversing with the Lord. It's a time I feel meditative and reflective and has become something I look forward to most every night. (Watson has also started taking me on longer walks in the morning, which just adds to the bliss! Thank you for being you New York City!)
Anyway, along my walk I thought of what it would feel like if I could feel all the emotions of my mortal life in an instant. From past to present to future... embracing my entire lifespan of hopes, miracles, accomplishments, loss, disappointments, monotony, heartache. What does it all feel like in the end? Does it all add up to pain? Happiness? What?
As I looked up to the sky I spotted the glorious full moon watching over me, reflecting its timelessness from above. I was overcome with a deep feeling of love. Joy. Excitement!
Isn't that what this is all about? Walking through the mysteries and miracles of life, and somehow finding the light of joy within it?
I know. I've been in reflective writing mode lately. It's good for me. Helps the healing. I've been writing in my journal every day too. It's been phenomenal. I highly recommend it.
For me, writing is a great way of exploring my thoughts and remembering who I am.
Sometimes I forget.
I forget that there is this booming voice residing within me awaiting its own resonance.
I forget that there is a mother and a wife patiently waiting for her time to arrive.
I forget that I am a daughter of God, made with purpose.
And I forget that all of my blessings are already here... even if I haven't experienced them yet.
So thank you for muddling your way through my thoughts with me. I've been finding the joy in my journey. I have no idea what awaits me next, and I relinquish that control.
I can't wait to see what happens.