Hark the Herald

It’s Christmas 2007 and like every previous holiday season, I am beguiled with an internal desire that stirs within my soul. It manifests itself slowly … innocently creating a craving so intense that I yearn to exclaim my excitement. However, as much as I aspire, I am aware of my shortcomings. Admittedly, my deficiencies are accepted without question, although I hunger to participate in the desires of my heart.

I am forty-five years old and I have a confession to make. Well, it’s not really a “confession” confession … I mean I haven’t stolen anything or killed anyone or coveted thy neighbor’s goods … but there is no pill to fix that which ails me and no doctor can cure my woes, so I must endure another Christmas season with the demons that lie within my weary soul. I am a pathetic elf aspiring to be different. You see dear friends, I cannot sing!

Oh my heart knows the melody and my ears hear the tune but my throat bellows out nothing that resembles the songs of the seasons. I try, like any good choirgirl, to sing the jingles that broadcast across the airwaves, but my harmony lacks the luster that is required of the carol. I am bemused by the fact that I, who hoards the treasure of music within my personal repertoire, cannot carry a tune.

It was not always this way. A few years ago, I was convinced that indeed I could sing. My family thought otherwise and proposed a challenge to me. They asked me to step outside, call the home phone from my cell phone and just “Sing a song, Mom, after the beep”. Without any hesitation I did just that. I quickly ran outside, did a few vocal warm ups and began to sing an old time favorite, “Country Roads” by John Denver. After belting the tune over the phone line with all my might, I could hardly wait to get back inside to hear the results of my own personal rendition of the country melody. I’m thinking Connie Francis, or perhaps Barbara Mandrell?

Well, since the boys were laughing so hard and the dog was putting on his own howling display of disdain, I was a wee bit nervous to hit the ‘play’ button.

“You have one new message”, the polite voice said. And it was then and there that I realized, I was no Loretta Lynn. Imagine my shock?! The perception I had of myself changed in an instant. Forever altered.

Alas, I now seek shelter within the walls that will not deny me for lack of musical prowess.