For eighteen years I have prayed to be able to sing on key. For those of you who can sing, this might not seem like an important request, but you see, I love to sing. I have yet to find anyone who loves to hear me. In church, I have had people turn around from two rows away, with pained looks on their faces, querying who was making the awful racket. I have had kids, with their noses all scrunched up, turn around and just stare at me till I stopped.
Itīs worse than that. This one time my husband and I went on a long drive with our friends, Fred and Carm. We were having such a glorious time, that on the way home I started to sing, "Praise God, Praise God, Praise God, Praise God." Well that night Fred ended up in the hospital in intensive care. The doctor said it was digestive problems but we all suspect it was my singing.
Another time, my pastorīs little girl, whom I adopted as my grandchild-by-love, was about two and a half years old when I took her for a walk down by the intracoastal waterway. Naomi and I were walking hand in hand when my heart started to swell with appreciation for the beauty of the palm trees around us and the magnificence of the day. I was grateful to be in Florida and blessed to be loved by this darling child. Like a geyser, that cannot be held back, I threw back my head and gushed, "Praise God, Praise God, Praise God, Praise God." Naomi dropped my hand. She put both her hands in the air like she was pushing back an invisible wall and said, "Donna I love you, but just donīt sing. O. K.? Just donīt sing!"
When a two and a half year old begs you to stop singing, thatīs bad. More than bad, actually. Only divine intervention could rectify my dilemma and grant my heartīs desire. And wouldnīt you know, God did just that.
One Sunday night in church, I was standing next to Judy who was a gifted and strong vocalist and whose voice I knew would overshadow mine, so instead of just mouthing the words to my favorite song, I let loose and sang for real. I immediately noticed that something was very different. My voice had changed. I was not making a horrid noise. It sounded like I was singing on key. I leaned over and asked Judy, "Can you hear me singing?" "Yes", she replied. "Am I singing on key?" "Yes, you are" was her astonishing reply.
I could not wait for the service to end so that I could report to Carolyn that God had just answered my prayer. She used to say, in that Southern drawl, "Honey, you just keep right on asking God, and one day Heīll do it!" Of course, she immediately wanted to hear me. Not wanting to make a fool of myself, in case I was mistaken and possibly still sounded like a barnyard animal, I decided I would validate this miracle outside in the driveway. "Praise God, Praise God, Praise God, Praise God"
Carolyn gazed at me like a raccoon stares at headlights and then exclaimed, "Girl, youīve got it!" She actually stopped people as they were coming out of the church, pulled them by their sleeve and declared, "Youīve just gotta hear this!" Those that had previously heard me, and knew the impossibility of any musical sound emanating from my lips, were astounded. Oh the Glory of being able to sing at the top of my lungs and know it is actually pleasurable to the listener.
As you can well imagine, I have almost become obnoxious. I sing everywhere, to everyone. I have no inhibitions. God has given me a most wondrous and marvelous gift and I am going to make certain that anyone within earshot knows about it. I am also a walking, talking, singing billboard, advertising the fact that God answers prayer, as long as we donīt give up and stop asking.
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