In God We Trust

A million years ago..or it seems that long,  I was a voice major in college. I sang Puccini, Bizet and Broadway.  I could hit a high C and hold it.  I could sing the chorus of the Nightingale, in Barber of Seville, which has an F sharp above high C in it.  I was my voice.

More than 12 years ago, I had a surgery that left me unable to sing.  Or at least, I believed it had.
I could not hit high notes and for a long while I could not carry the tune.
I no longer ordered season tickets to the opera because I would weep through the production, remembering when I sang those arias.   I honestly did not know who I was,  if I could not sing.

And so, the Lord opened a window in my heart.  I began to teach Bible Study.
All the passion I had put into singing turned to Christ and His Word.
I was blessed immeasurably as the Bible Study grew.
Deep, rich relationships developed between the members. And most importantly, our relationships with our Lord deepened.
                                And one day, I listened to an familiar aria and I did not cry.

And that brings me to today...
A dear friend of mine called me yesterday to ask me to recommend a soloist to sing at her mother's funeral.  I gave her the name of a woman in the church choir who had a lovely voice.
She asked if I would mind taking charge of those arrangements for her.  Of course, I said I would.

I called the vocalist,  but had to leave a message for her.  I worried about having to wait to hear from her, as time ticked by. Finally she called;  and regretfully said she was unable to do it.
And she had no other referrals to offer me.
I called the pianist for other possible singers.  He and I had performed many times together in different venues in the past.
                               His first question to me was, "Why aren't you singing?"

Now, he knew about my surgery.  And, I reminded him.
His reply was "Gayle, these two songs are simple. You can do them on a bad day. You don't need another singer!"

I gave my normal round of explanations as to why it was impossible, but he said, "Be here at noon.
                                 You are going to have to prove to me you cannot sing!"

So, with no other choices,  I went.

On the way, I had a call with another suggestion of someone who might be able to sing.
Once again, I began to tell God all the reasons I could not sing at this funeral.
                     The friend whose mother had died was a perfectionist.
                     She had taken great care with every detail of the service.
                     I was afraid that my unused, unpracticed voice would detract from her perfect planning.

And He answered every my every argument with one simple, yet profound question.
                     "Can you not trust me this little bit?  You who teach others to trust?"

Still I hesitated. "Well, I will call this one other person and if she, too, cannot do it, then I will."
And as if there were a soft chuckle, I heard Him say,"Go on. Call her but she can't do it!"

I looked up, and out loud I said, "I will sing, my Lord. And I will trust you...with the whole thing."
                                               And I did. I sang. I sang.
There was no mike when I sang;  and when your voice is weak, a microphone always helps.
                                                   I whispered, "I will trust."

I discovered a former pastor was conducting the funeral service, a pastor who had witnessed a disastrous performance one Sunday morning years before, when my accompanist had gotten the pages of my song mixed up.  Rather than gracefully stop singing until she realized her mistake, I had kept singing louder!
Of course, on the wrong page!

Oh! How I began to fear another humiliation! And still he commanded me, "Trust me!"

When the funeral was over, and every note had been sung perfectly, I left the church with a new song in my heart, and a new sense of the trustworthiness of the Lord I serve.

Tonight, my former pastor called me.  He told me he had heard a lot of songs in his lifetime, but these were two of the best songs he had ever heard. He said my voice was clear and beautiful, but that what made it stand out was the Spirit behind it. 
               His words I will never forget,"Gayle, you sang in the Spirit.
                      And I want you to know it was a ministry to me."

I had come home by that piano, in that chapel.
I knew that the Lord Himself had led me to this moment of joy.
I knew that I "can do all things through Him".
                                           
                     I kept waiting to hear the Lord say, "Told you so!"

Being Beautiful

Like most women, if I use my time to examine my body, my hair, my face, AND THEN, look around and compare myself to other women, I come out feeling lousy. I wish my breasts were larger. I wish my hair was thick. I wish it weren't so gray. My face, well, it could certainly use a tuck here and there...actually, everywhere!

My mirror is NOT telling me I am the fairest of them all. And the more I look at others to compare myself, the harsher a critic the mirror becomes.

Why do we women do these things to ourselves? Compare and compete. Is it just part of the American way? Or could it be plain old sin?

Sin has always made the beautiful ugly.  What God created good, sin distorted. Sin is the result of our trying to be what we were never meant to be.
                              God created us to depend on Him to tell us who we are.
                                       Instead, we demanded to define ourselves.
                              God created us to live in relationship with Him.
                                       Instead, we demanded to be independent, to do things our way.
                              We rebelled, and God let us.
So, we wander through a maze of doubt, distortion, and delusion toward a destiny of despair.
     (Indulge me!  I love alliteration!!  And double exclamation marks!)

Afraid to face the harsh reality that the mirror may not lie, afraid that indeed, we are not the fairest of them all, we pretend that we can make ourselves beautiful.  We buy the big boobs. We tuck the tummy.
We lift the brow and inject the Botox.  We spend hours in the gym.  We sweat.  We eat grass.
But we are no younger;  and still, we are not beautiful enough.

Exhausted and miserable,  we raise the mirror once more. We cannot deny what we see.
In the mirror is revealed the truth of our condition.  It is not our body.  It is not our face.
Open and visible to us, is our heart. It is ugly. There is selfishness.  There is pride.  There is envy.
                                                              There is...sin.
The poison on the inside of us has contaminated everything on the outside of us. We are compelled to admit:  There is no beauty to be found.

Scripture says that Christ will give us a brand new heart and make us into a brand new person.
We can lay down our sin, our brokenness, and our selfishness.  We can give up our independence and throw ourselves on the One we can trust to do what He says.
                                A new person!! (Sorry.  But it deserves the double !!)
 Isn't that really what we want?  To be made over into someone we are not, someone who is beautiful?

2 Corinthians 3:18 says that with unveiled faces we can reflect His glory.   Every day we will be TRANSFORMED more and more into His image!  (No expensive surgeries, no high priced wrinkle cream, no gym membership and hormones!)  He asks only that I trust Him.  And He gives me His glory.    Talk about a beauty secret that needs to be shared!

VIEW FROM MY KITCHEN WINDOW

There is a common thought that because a woman stays home, raises kids and doesn't work outside the home, she either has no mind to begin with, or stores it away until she wises up and gets a job.

For awhile, when I was a young mother, I could be a bit intimidated by other women who chose to work rather than have babies.  It seemed to me that they were always talking about grown-up, important things and I was still trying to figure out how to get the spit up smell out of a favorite blouse.

My childless friends took trips to romantic islands during the summer.
   I made trips to the pediatrician.
They planned stock portfolios.
   I planned play dates.
They shopped Neiman-Marcus.
   I shopped Babies R Us.
And there were days when I looked in the mirror and believed what the world said about stay at home moms.
                                  I remember.
With a three year old whose face is smeared with peanut butter and who wears grape jelly like gloves,
a five year old crying because her older brother thinks he is "the Hulk" as he chases her around the kitchen, I wondered, honestly, if there were a chance in You Know Where, that these kids would ever be the "Citizens of Tomorrow!" America's future could well be in trouble!
                                   I remember.
I  paused just a moment to look out my kitchen window and wonder if Life truly could "pass you by." Then, the seven year old, almost eight, "Hulk" twirled around several times, sunk to the floor and raised himself up with a big smile, reached out to his little sister and said,  "I meant you no harm.
I'm Dr. David Banner. I only look scary but I am really very nice."
                                 
                                 The moment seemed to hang in quiet space.
Cries turned to laughter as his 5 year old little sister ran up to Dr. Banner and hugged him.
And before any one saw her coming and could take cover, the three year old ran to both of them and became part of a very sticky love fest!

America's future suddenly did not look so bleak. In one small moment of grace, I imagined there was nothing too great these kids could one day do. I saw Leaders of the Free World.
I saw international negotiators.  I saw Nobel Peace Prize winners.  (Well, maybe that's overstating it!)

Taking them all to the bathroom to wash, I began to feel sorry for those women who spent their days making zillion dollar deals,  going on "power lunches" and selling high priced whatevers.
That day in my kitchen I discovered that Life doesn't pass you by if you are keeping up with it.

The problem is, you can't keep up with Life if you don't know where real life is!!!
                       Well, that day I knew.  And I remember.  Even today.
"Thank You," I whispered to Heaven, as I licked a bit of jelly off my fingers.