Step out.

This weekend I did something I didn’t think I could ever do – sing in front of people.  In fact, I actually sang in front of a whole lot of people. Granted, I didn’t have a solo, or sing a song in the spotlight, but being part of a great choir was a huge step forward.

You see, for a very long time I have had this irrational, uncomfortable fear of raising my voice in song when anyone else was around.

When I was young – I don’t remember the exact age… maybe 5 or 6 – I was singing along in my room to my “It’s a Small World” record on my little cardboard record player.  For those born in the 90s, a record is this little black vinyl thing much like a CD, but with grooves on the surface, which when spun against a very sharp little needle, it made a wonderful sound.  And, instead of having 10,000 songs in your pocket, we had about 10 songs per disc – and they weren’t conveniently portable.  Archaic, I know, but it was awesome at the time.

And my record player was this great cardboard box kind of thing that folded up into a little briefcase, complete with latches and handles for “portability”.  But I digress.

So there I am in my little room, probably in some footy pajamas, singing my little heart out.  When I emerge from my room, my parents told me that they were listening in and wanted me to sing it again in front of them… to do a mini concert for them.  I know that they didn’t mean anything by it other than to enjoy my performance and probably give me a standing ovation, but for whatever child-like reason, I got so embarrassed and mortified that I crawled into a shell and stayed there for the greater part of 30 years.

I was forced to be in choir when I was in the sixth grade, and again in the ninth, but other than a few whispery notes and a whole lot of  pantomime of the mouth, I didn’t really sing at all.  And, I had this consuming panic that ensued when we actually had to perform in front of parents, classmates and teachers.  I remember having an uncontrollably violent heartbeat, sweating in places I had never sweat before, and mostly feeling as though I was going to projectile vomit on the poor kids singing in front of me.  Thankfully for her (or him – I don’t rightly remember), I held back as I mouthed the words to Mr. Roboto and Wham’s Careless Whisper. [Side note: what sixth grader should be singing Careless Whisper?  “I’m never gonna dance again… guilty feet have got no rhythm…”  ??? I’m 11 years old – I don’t even know what half of the lyrics were referring to.]

Anyway, so it went for many years.  Oh, I was a rock star in my head.  I put on little concerts for myself while driving here or there.  Strangely though, I didn’t really mind being “that guy” who was seen in the car next to you, rocking it out.  That didn’t phase me much at all.  But if you got into my car, the concert came down to a whisper and the rocking slid away into a reserved tap of the fingers.

Oh, and the shower is the very best venue in which to put on a show – aurally, not physically (I can assure you of that one).  When I knew nobody was home except for me and the dog, I would rock out there too – careful not slip and crash through the door while doing my smooth dance moves.

My wife has been encouraging however, saying that she has heard me sing before and that I was good.  That really meant a lot to me and was a seed that was reaped this weekend. I didn’t think she ever really heard me other than my fake Elvis, Frank Sinatra and goofy dork voices (of which there are many – mostly in my head).  But having her encourage me in that really gave me joy.  It helped me get comfortable in the idea of stepping outside of myself to really do something I enjoy instead of hiding behind tight lips.

A few years ago, my church (Crossroads) started performing with a full choir, which I really enjoyed.  You could feel the energy and passion as everyone let go, joining their voices together and just bringing it all.  It just looked like everyone was having fun and you could tell that they were so into the music and loved sharing it with everyone else.

Having not had a choir for a while, I decided to send a note to our awesome music leader, Jessica, and ask if she planned on ever having a choir again.  Thankfully, she was very receptive and enthusiastic to organize and form a new group.  After a few bumps in the road, including her father (John, our lead pastor) returning from a trip with a very serious case of e-coli and Jessica’s own bout with appendicitis, we were finally able to get together and get out there.  John and Jessica are doing much better, by the way.

I thought I would so much more nervous about this weekend.  I anticipated the heavy pounding heart.  I considered the feeling of the floor as I planted my forehead into it as a result of lost blood to my head.  I even was worried about barfing on my choir mates.  But there was nothing – no fear, no nervousness… nothing.  Instead, I felt excitement and eagerness.  I was looking forward to stepping out in front of everyone and just seeing what would happen.  This was my opportunity to open a door that I had long ago bolted shut.  And it was awesome.  I had a great time.  The music was incredible, the band even more so, and even though we only had a very short time to rehearse, we pulled it all together.  We sang three songs over four different services and I didn’t fail once.  In fact, by the last service I was standing not with stiff arms and tight legs, but instead with a bounce in my step, head held high and voice just letting go.

The lesson is to just step out of yourself.  I had thought for years that I could never, ever do something like this.  Even thought it was something I had often thought of and imagined doing, I didn’t think this weekend would ever come.  So if there is something in your life that you want but are afraid to do, open the door.  Take down the wooden planks you have nailed to the frame.  Step outside (of yourself), and just do it.  It is so empowering and great to let go and be who you want to be.  Yes, it to me 30 years to get there, but the worst part is the regret of not doing it sooner.  It’s nice outside.  Start by opening a window, looking about and setting your mind on what lies ahead.

P.S.  Mom and Dad, if you are reading this, I know that you didn’t mean anything by calling me to center stage.  You probably don’t even remember it happening.  But I only blame myself for being a shy kid and for allowing that one experience to define me.  You have always been awesome, encouraging parents whom I could not ask more of and I love you both very much.  I wish you could have been here to sing with me – I think you would have been proud.  Plenty more choir concerts in my future, so perhaps you can make it down and rock out with us.  xoxo