This is my story, this is my song

By Kathleen Thomas Gaspar

Unlike, say, global warming or the height of the fiscal cliff, my singing has never been the subject of debate.

OK. Maybe there were a few times when I warbled to someone’s approval. I remember that my father liked my early childhood renditions of “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” and “This Old Man,” the latter with its catchy refrain of “knick knack paddy-whack, give the dog a bone.” And there was one moment of aural glory in fifth grade when Mrs. Goldsberry had me sing the first verse of “Kookaburra” a cappella in front of the entire music class and then surprised the daylights out of everyone by saying, “Very nice.”

But pretty much from that time on it’s been a steady down-octave journey. In fact, as we grooved to the Seekers in 1968, my college friend Barbara was moved to say, “You have the worst voice I’ve ever heard.”

Sadly, I’ve gone on to inflict pain on those I love. In their innocent infancy, my two sons were captive to “You Are My Sunshine.” And my grands likewise endured it until they were big enough to squirm down off my lap.

Our old blue heeler Mack howled mournfully as I bucksawed my way through “Your Cheatin’ Heart.” Then, and I only wish I were inventing this, he threw up.

So I admit it. Much as I love music and give it my best shot to harmonize with whoever’s on the radio or CD player, I am sorely aware one of us is messing up the song. Generally it’s not the recording artist. Generally.

Now, all of this only proves that God, Who in His wisdom and grace and mercy has charged me to “go thee,” has a magnificent sense of humor. Maybe He laughs as I minister to my beloved friends at Bruce McCandless State Veterans Home and the wonderful ladies at the care center in Florence, where I am not only in the position to sing but also to lead the singing.

But more than laugh, God surely rejoices.

Recently at the veterans home I found myself without recorded music and a roomful of eager vocalists. We lifted our praise with “Amazing Grace” and “The Old Rugged Cross” and “How Great Thou Art” with a shared spirit, a like heart for the Lord.

We revisited “Silent Night,” even though we were nudging up against New Year’s Eve. And then three times we sang “God Bless America.”

If you’ve ever doubted the conviction of a veteran who’s laid his or her life on the line for this country, I want you to stop it right now. Do not doubt these people. They’d do it again in less time than it takes a whiny naysayer to say, “There’s no such thing as American exceptionalism.” But I digress.

That day my world’s-worst voice cracked on “foam” each time we hit the highest note, and the last rousing chorus I laughed and said, “I don’t sing very well.” The beautiful veteran closest to me said, “No! Don’t say that. You say that you have a good voice and a strong voice.” And when my heart finally moved out of my throat, I thanked him.

Not 30 minutes later at another service, as the sweet Kay and I sang one of her favorite hymns with no iPad accompaniment, another lovely lady came into the room, singing as though someone’s eternal life depended on it. When I thanked her for joining us, she said, and I quote, “Well, you were so off-key I thought I’d better come and help.”

Thank you, God, for the dose of humility and the slapstick of Your humor. And the lovely lady? She was back this week with a smile and a couple of friends.

The Bible tells us throughout to sing our praises to God. Unless I’ve missed something very important to that message, it does not tell us that a great singing voice is necessary to do so.

In Ephesians 5:18-19 the Apostle Paul told the church to steer clear of debauchery, instead “speaking to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit. Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord.”

Well, amen to that. And, as a multitude of hymns were written to proclaim, “Hallelujah!”