Singing

It was one of the most beautiful sounds in the world, when Tristan would sing. Usually, he would sing in the car, and I'd quickly turn off the radio that's almost always on when we're in the car, and I'd listen. Someone else might complain, because they liked what was playing on the radio, or perhaps they were just used to having it on. But I wanted to listen to Tristan.

Tristan is in kindergarten now, and already the songs are less frequent. With "professional" music coming at us almost constantly, anyone with a less-than-professional sounding voice quickly learns to keep it to themselves. Once upon a time, people would to sing when they worked, when they walked, when they did all sorts of stuff. Singing --- real, from the heart singing --- has literally brought people through times of despair or oppression. But that's not the kind of singing we hear nowadays. And we certainly don't sing ourselves. Only the "singers" do that.

Except in church. At church, we sing. And we use hymnals, too --- no words flashing on the screen for us. We like to see the notes, even though most can't read them. We're not always in tune, we're not always together, and sometimes, in our little country church, we have to stop and start all over, but the singing is always REAL. It's not done by professionals, it doesn't come from the radio or a CD (usually). It's us. And I know that God is pleased by the sound we make.

I may not have the perfect voice. I may not get all the chords right when I play my guitar. But I'm going to keep singing. Because I don't want to lose the song. And I don't want Tristan to lose it, either.