The Stage

Years ago, I had dreams of singing on a stage for thousands of people. I would sing in my room and close my eyes and envision myself before a sold-out crowd, singing from my soul. I sang my first solo in church when I was five or six and I've sung most of my life. I've sung in concert with Vince Gill, Amy Grant, Michael W. Smith, Kathy Troccoli, Sandi Patty, Chicago, and Van Halen. Of course, I was in the middle of the audience and just singing along, but that's got to count for something!

Before I enrolled in college, I auditioned for a vocal scholarship and received it. I sang in Italian, French, German, Latin, and even Russian. I loved it. When I sang on the stage for my vocal juries (your final exam as a vocal student), I always received high marks and even had several of the professors single me out and say that I had a unique voice that would take me as far as I was willing to follow it.

Sometime during my sophomore year, I realized that I was majoring in a field in which I would have a really hard time finding a job. After talking to my parents for a very long time, I decided to switch my major from Music Education to Elementary Education. I fully intended to continue to enroll in vocal classes and keep singing - maybe even minor in vocal performance. But that didn't happen. I got to the point that I just wanted to graduate and music classes weren't helping me do that quickly enough. So I stopped taking music classes and started concentrating on my major subjects.

I still sang in church with Michael and as a soloist. I knew that I would never really stop singing. During my college years and for a few years afterward, I sort of became "the wedding singer" in my hometown. By the time I was 25, I had stood on many stages and sung in over 80 weddings! When Michael and I moved, I joined the choir in our new church and after a few weeks, the director asked me to come by and audition to be a soloist. Over the next few years, I sang many solos from the stage. One of the most memorable ones was when I stood at the top of the balcony steps at the beginning of a Christmas program and sang a capella. What a rush! A few years later, when our services began to change to suit our congregations, I auditioned for a coveted spot on one of our church's praise teams. I LOVED singing on the praise team. It was incredible to stand on the stage and use a talent to serve and worship God.

When I became pregnant with my second child, it became obvious that I couldn't continue with the grueling rehearsal schedule required by the praise team. I was constantly exhausted during the pregnancy - and from taking care of Christopher who was going through his "terrible threes." So I resigned from my spot, praying that the opportunity would arise again when the kids were older and I had fewer outside commitments.

That was three years ago and I haven't sung in public since. I'm not sure I could do it today if I was asked to. Being onstage and singing used to be one of the things I loved doing best. It's really not a part of my life anymore. I do miss it often.

But now I have a different stage. It's made of wood like all the others, but this stage is a beautiful, dark wood rocking chair given to me by my brother when I was expecting my son. Even though this stage is different, it is still very similar to all the other ones I've sung from. I still have a captive audience, but now, it's an audience of one. One little girl who whispers her requests in my ear and then lays her head on my shoulder and listens as I sing for her. Her favorite song is - and has been since birth - "The Way You Look Tonight." She knows every word and sometimes sings along softly. She calls it "Someday." My repertoire has expanded and now is a blended medley of praise songs, old hymns, standards, Disney movie theme songs, and, yes, the occasional Italian classic. The rocking of the chair is a perfect metronome to keep the music flowing as it should. The acoustics of the nursery may not rival those of any music hall, but the songs still echo in the sweet ears and heart of my daughter.


This stage is very different, but I'm a much bigger star in her eyes than I ever was before. To her, my voice is a soothing lullaby of love. When I hold her in my arms and sing, I see her long lashes flutter down onto her cheeks in sleep like the gentlest butterfly wings. I hear the soft sigh of her even breathing and feel her heart beating next to mine. I brush the red curls away from her face and see her soft lips parted in sleep and I know...

This is the sweetest ovation I could ever receive.

I have a confession...

I live in Louisiana - the deep South - the land of football and gumbo. My daddy played high school football. He was, by far, not the biggest player on the team, but he was fierce and strong enough that he once broke an opposing player's leg during a game. My older brother played football in junior high, although he chose not to play in high school. I grew up knowing that every Sunday afternoon, as soon as we got home from church, we would eat lunch and then my family would park themselves in front of the television and watch football games for the rest of the day.

I chose to play the saxophone and was in the marching band in high school. That means that, for four years, I went to every single football game that the Jonesboro-Hodge Tigers played in. I loved Fridays, the pep rally in the afternoon, the anticipation of the coming game, the road trip to away games, and for home games, the march from the band hall down to the football stadium. To this day, the sound of a marching band's drum cadence makes my heart race. One of the big high school's in the town where I now live is only a quarter-mile from our house and on clear, cold Friday nights, it sounds like the band is playing in our backyard.

My husband never got to play football because he went to a high school that didn't have a team. But he is a die-hard football fan. He loves to watch football and gets so excited that he often jumps from his seat, yelling in victory or anguish. Since we're from Louisiana, he is a lifelong New Orleans Saints fan. He says he can remember getting harrassed in school for wearing a Saints jacket, but he never minded. The Saints, until this season, had a long history of...let's just say, not being the best team in the league. But Michael was a Saints fan when being a Saints fan wasn't cool. Football games are sacred in this house.

So what's my confession?

I hate football.

I mean, I really don't like it.

While the rest of my family watched football games on Sundays, I was usually in my room with a book or my Barbie dolls.

I never went to any of my brother's junior high games.

Yes, I went to every game in high school, but I never watched a single game. I just sat in the bleachers and talked to my bandmates, and stood up with everybody else whenever our band director would announce, "Get up 'Eye of the Tiger!'" I loved the road trips because my friend Craig and I would laugh and play his jam box all the way to the game and back. I loved the march down the stadium because...well, it was cool.

Football is sacred in our house now - which means that I keep the kids quiet and in another part of the house while Michael watches the games.

We had a Super Bowl party here once. It was even my idea. I stayed in the kitchen and cooked and kept the food coming for everyone else. I went to an LSU game once with a group of friends from Sunday School and I cannot for the life of me, remember a single thing about that game except the uphill trek to our nosebleed-section seats.

I have one friend who is a total football freak. She and her husband go to every home football game of our alma mater. They go to every home game of the university from which her husband and I graduated and where he now works. They watch football on t.v. and have crawfish boils and parties. She knows everything there is to know about the game of football.

I know nothing.

I recently decided that I need to learn about the game because it is very likely that our son will play football. I try to ask my husband questions, but I have learned pretty quickly that during a game is not the time to ask such questions.

It's really fine with me. I'll go to my son's games, watch every minute...and cheer when my husband does!

He's in Control

I have a framed print on my desk at school that says, "Felicia - trust me. I have everything under control. Jesus"

I don't know why I can't remember that more often. I don't know why I get so worried about things and think that I have to control everything to make it work right.

He has everything under control.

When my days are spinning dizzily from misbehaving students, overly-demanding parents, too many stacks of ungraded papers, uncoming evaluations, and worries about my own family, I just need to remember to let go.

Let go and remember that God was here long before I arrived and He'll be here long after I'm gone. He created this entire world, and although we have corrupted it and misused and abused it, He's still there and everything is still under His control.

This God who created the world and who watches over everyone and everything in it, still loves and cares for me. When my world becomes too big for me to rise above, He reminds me that nothing is too big for Him.

And I'm not so insignificant that He doesn't care about me.

He has everything under control.

Whew! What a relief!