Fill My Life With Life: Singing

I vacillate on whether to call myself a singer. Don't get me wrong, as far as I can remember, I've always loved singing. One of my fondest memories as a child is me, at 7 years old, during the Easter service at my Baptist church - and I had the opportunity to sing a solo with the adult choir. I thought I had made the big leagues. Picture me, frilly white dress, with matching scalloped laced socks, black patent shoes, and the pièce de résistance, white gloves! You couldn't tell me nothin'.

The main reason I was able to do this is because there wasn't enough children to create a children's choir, but I didn't care - 7 year old Jenna knew this was her moment and she rose to the occasion. The song? I Got Peace Like a River.... a song that often comes to me now, without any promptings, and immediately brings me back to that old Baptist church - the smell of Old English wood finish and peppermint, the creaking of the pews and the floor, the light beaming in from the stained glass window center and at the back of the room to illuminate the pulpit. I remember as I took the mic, small hands trembling but determined, I growled out the first lines of the song... "I got peace like a river, I got peace like a river, I got peace like a river... in my soul..." and looking over the congregation, nodding in approval and over at the choir, in their long, shiny blue robes adding accompanying harmonies. It was a slice of heaven.

Growing up, I was in what I would call a musical house. It wasn't because there were musical instruments (although I was in orchestra for a number of years... lol), it was moreso that there was always some sort of song or melody reverberating through the walls - and the sounds were eclectic. ABBA while eating breakfast and waiting for the bus, Earth Wind & Fire at dinnertime. I learned all the words to MJ's Thriller, but also getting introductions to Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, Parliament, the Beach Boys, Chaka Khan, the Bee Gees, and Babyface - I carried melodies wherever I went.

My family was musical - my grandmother sang soprano, my aunt soprano and alto, my mom a strong tenor. I always loved the deep richness of my mom's voice, echoing off the bathroom walls as she would sing in the shower... "I shall wear a crown, I shall wear a crown..." or "soon and very soon, we are going to see the King..." song from the more recent ancestors, songs that sang of hope, even in the midst of sorrow. My mother, pulling joy from her memories and through her diaphragm.

It wasn't until college that I really tried to sing... like, put thought into it. Before then, even though I loved to sing, I was insecure about my voice. Now you have to understand, I'm not like Jennifer Hudson, Fantasia, Tasha Cobbs Leonard just open your mouth and the heavens depart sort of singing. No one has told me I should try out for American Idol or the Voice. I thought or hoped that I could at least carry a note, sans bucket, and that somewhere in the world that would be enough and there would be a place for me.

My first test of this was in college, sophomore year, when I auditioned for the university's gospel choir. I remember standing in front of the choir director and pianist, holding out my hands, closing my eyes and singing out Amazing Grace. The director simply said, "you a strong alto... yup strong." And I was elated, my voice being enough for joining in with my peers to make a joyful noise unto the Lord. However, the joy didn't last that long. If anyone has been in a choir (in any sort of setting) you know that it's not just about the music. Eventually the relationships, dynamics, politics, and cliques proved a bit too much for me and stopped going by my junior year. I left and no one seemed to notice or care. I still found random places to sing - a Christian retreat here, a karaoke night there, but nothing fully substantial. It made me think that maybe singing wasn't my forte, that somehow I hadn't been graced or gifted with a voice, that all that music around me was just that, around me, not in me.

First moment of proving these fears true? When I had the opportunity to sing for a worship team at a local church in NYC. I auditioned and they said I had a beautiful voice and wanted me on the team immediately. One would think - this is the confirmation! This is the open door! I can sing! Well, maybe, but let's just say the flags started before I even sang my first note. Picture it, first practice - I'm excitedly nervous. Excited to get back to this part of my life that I used to love so much, nervous because I'm new and (admittedly can see now) that I was still harboring old scars and fears with how I would fit into this new group. We jumped in and started singing, songs I was somewhat familiar with, but didn't fully know. There was no introductions, no here's the playlist, no anything really. I wanted to fight back against the fear, give myself some reassurance of community and support, so I asked, "what happens if we're live and someone sings the wrong note?" The worship leader said, "we just cut off your mic..." that was it. No follow-up, no we would work it out in practice afterwards, not even maybe telling me that my note was off? Just cut off your mic and move on. This didn't sit well with me, but, I pushed my feelings to the side because, I had a chance to do one of the things that I love, which is to sing - so I put the pressure on myself to never sing a wrong note.

I was in that worship team for less than 3 months. What I didn't expect was because this was a church plant in it's infancy, there was lots of work and not enough hands to carry it, which meant the hands that were there had to cover and carry double if not triple the load. I was singing all the time (even if they said at the start it would only be once, maybe twice a month) and I didn't feel connected at all to the group. It was more of I was a body in a place that just simply wanted and needed bodies. I wanted to speak to the Worship Director, but they were never available. I thought to maybe speak with a Pastor, but was this a Pastor-level issue? I was feeling overwhelmed and burnt out. What was the last straw? Me crying right before I was going out to sing and minister - something that had never happened before. And no, this wasn't a "move of the Holy Spirit, I'm so overwhelmed with God's presence" sort of cry, it was a "please don't make me do this, I'll do anything if I never have to do this again," sort of cry and it alarmed me. In all the times I'd sang up until that point, I had never felt sad that I had to sing - definite red flag. Before getting on the stage, I pulled the worship leader to the side to try to explain that I was feeling sad about singing, even though I couldn't even understand why I was feeling sad about singing. Their response? They said they weren't really good at handling emotional stuff. Excuse me what?? If you're not good with emotions, HOW are you a worship leader!? That was my last time singing on that stage, soon after I left that church altogether.

Second moment of proving these fears true? When I auditioned and didn't make the cut of a known church choir. I recognize now that auditioning for choirs or groups, church or not, means that you may get rejected, that they may say "no" to you. But at the time, I was sure that I would get in. Why? Cause I didn't want to audition for it in the first place (lol).

Let me explain.... I was in a new church, in a better place, minding my own black business when I felt like the Lord was prompting me to audition for this choir. I had never had a thought to audition for this choir before (in fact, felt very much the opposite), so I knew this wasn't coming from me. Also, I didn't think the devil would tell me to audition for a choir - cause why? #superchurchylogic Anyway, at first I ignored it, for a while even, but the feeling wouldn't go away, so with much fear and trembling, some confusion, but with a tiny ray of hope, I signed up for auditions. I told my friend about this new development... she was excited as she was already a part of this choir and as she's heard me sing before - in the tiny moments of singing around the house, she felt like this could be a great opportunity. And, how fun would it be if we were in the same choir and ministry together?! We both started dreaming and thinking of the possibilities the closer the audition date came.

The day of the audition, I was nervous as hell. My friend came with, just like I came with her years before when she had her first audition with this same choir (she passed with flying colors btw - #singer). I got sat with a small group, went through the paces, like sing "Amazing Grace', hit this note (for pitch), do a couple of vocal runs. I thought I sounded okay, and I really did try my best. There were two other ladies in there that were incredible, I definitely knew they were getting in before we even finished the first exercise, but I thought maybe I could still find a way to make it in... Lord give me favor! We finished and they separated us into two groups - the sheep and the goats if you will. They brought me, along with two other ladies who were in the audition into a separate room, away from the two ladies that I knew sounded wonderful. It didn't fully hit me until I sat down with the leader and she simply said, "so, it's a no..." I was devastated. It wasn't just that they said "no," it was them saying "no" after I had to work so hard to do it because I didn't want to do it in the first place. I was mad, at God who I felt pushed me into doing something, knowing I would fail, and mad at myself for believing that I could actually be good enough to sing. The leader said, "you can always audition again, most people don't make it on the first try, I had to audition five times before I made it." My first thought was, "lady, that sounds like you're a glutton for punishment, who wants to be rejected that many times?!" I smiled and nodded, but knew I wouldn't audition for them again - the pain too raw and fresh.

From then, I didn't sing for a really long time - not karaoke, not around the house, nowhere. It was like that experience was the final confirmation of the fear that I'd carried around since I was in college - that I actually couldn't sing, everyone was just being nice allowing me to sing in places as long as I blended in. If I tried to actually sing, by myself, tried to prove that I had a voice, I would become the Emperor - exposed and naked. This revelation came around 2018.

We all know what happened in 2020. And although it was a season of tremendous loss, one of the blessings of the pandemic was... I started singing again. It was gradual, unexpected, and funny because it was during a time that I thought I was very much done with life and completely done with God. Remember that time? All stuck in our homes, quarantined together, learning new hobbies like quilting and bread making? As it was, my roommate and I started listening to Sunday services together online. And what do services usually start with? Worship! At the beginning, I think neither one of us would really sing that loudly... even though this is the friend with the wonderful voice :D. We would mostly hum or listen to the music, each in our own space, even while we're in the same living room. To be honest, even though I can't speak for her, I think we also were both scared at how we would sound to each other, each carrying our own insecurities, wanting to stay hidden, not expose, wrapping ourselves in our fig leaves. Because singing is a vulnerable act and at the time I think we were more concerned about how "off" our notes would be - too inside our own heads, instead of sharing the little that we had and believing it was enough. But, over time, I would hear her sing and I would remember how I would sing with such emotion, clarity, and hope. So, I started to sing a little more as well. And so she would sing a little more - and so I would... and before either of us knew it, we were having full worship concerts in our living room. Two voices, one sound, God's glory. It was healing.

Fast forward - post-pandemic, I started going back to church in-person, a miracle in itself that maybe deserves it's own post (lol) and it was such a strange feeling, to be amongst people again. And to hear the worship, not through a screen, but up close and personal in surround sound. It reminded me of little 7 year old Jenna - who was so excited to hear the choir in her old Baptist church, the voices bringing her so much joy. Even during the first few times of coming, I would do more listening - silently humming to myself, trying to catch a cord or melody in my throat, push it past my lips. It took a while, but I started to sing, out loud, again. I still get self-conscious about singing, especially when I'm around the folks that can like sing sing (i.e. the worship team... lol!). Right now I'm working on not hitting every note perfectly, afraid someone is going to cut me off, but singing out loud with confidence. In the moments that I've allowed myself to "go there," people have told me that I can sing... I just need to believe it for myself. I know my voice isn't the "open up my mouth and the heavens depart" but I'm realizing that it doesn't have to be. Like an athlete - whether it's one born with natural abilities and blessed with talent or one who had to get up and work twice as hard to just make the team - it doesn't matter once game day comes. When they're on the field, either one could score the game winner. 😃

My hope is that I would do and practice it -whether it's at church, karaoke, or even walking down the street (which I've done a couple times now! #whoamI??) knowing that I can get better, knowing that I don't have to be J-Hud or Fantasia, knowing, believing, and trusting that I do have a voice and it's worthy to be heard. ❤️ ♥️ 🎶 🎵