Thursday, May 23

A BASKIN ROBBINS SUMMER (continued. Part XV of ? If you are new to this story, you can read from the beginning,

here)

The next few days proved to be just as exciting. Church culture was much different in Korea. These guys congregated at church every day, to meet, talk, and plan the adventures for the day. In the following days, we played table tennis, volleyball, visited bookstores, parks, and generally traveled all over Seoul. Every day was another day with Lydia.

Once, we just gathered at church to hang out, and talk. One of the guys busted out a guitar, and began to sing some praise songs. Everyone joined in, and someone handed me a praise folder.

I was hesitant to sing. My brothers and I had grown up making fun of each other whenever we sang, whatever we sang. As a result, none of us sang very much, and never developed proper singing voices. Only when the chorus of a congregation covered my squawks, would I really let go and sing to my heart’s content. My brothers always gave me a strange look or a frown when I did this.

I decided to mouth the words, and hopefully go unnoticed. I would not have been able to sing anyway, because I was caught under the spell of a muse. Lydia was singing, and her voice was...just…heavenly. Oh my! I thought. She sings like an angel too? Her voice was of a quality beyond the sweetest voices I’ve ever heard. It was oh-so-accurate in pitch, clear, light, unadulterated by the tricks singers use to cover their flaws, and above all, her voice was happy. And the vibrato! Not the shrill irritating vibrato which takes away from the quality of the note, not the slow, elaborate vibrato which strays too far from the pitch, but a wonderful, true vibrato that cradled each note and gave it value. (Heaven, I’m in heaven…)

It took me a while before I could worship with these guys. Sadly enough, at that time, I was all too conscious of people around me when I worshipped God. Especially Lydia. It should have been just about God, but it wasn’t so then, at least, not at the beginning.

Over the next few days, I grew more comfortable with the group, and with my voice. I wish I could say that my voice miraculously changed, and that I was able to sing well. My voice didn’t change. I wasn’t able to sing well. But it didn’t matter, because this awesome group of people always encouraged me by smiling at me when we sang. They never made fun of my voice, not once. No sarcastic shots at the nasally sound. No smirks and comments about me trying to bellow like a operatic tenor. Just smiles and encouragement. I came to love praising, and praising with this group. In time, Lydia ceased to be my focus during those worship times. It slowly became about God, not my voice, not my fears, not any girl, but just God.


yakob at 12:44 AM

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