Speaking of Bravery...

Sometimes I'm not sure whether the things I do are inspired or just impulsive.  

Yesterday, as I was basking in my first real moments of uninterrupted quiet since June, my head wandered to a song I had heard on Sunday morning.  Craig almost always gets up on Sunday mornings and turns on some kind of churchy, inspiring music.  I love how it fills the whole house.  I love the combination of beautiful music and the sun streaming through the downstairs windows.  It's a nice way to start the morning.

This is the song I heard...

That's a familiar song because I sang it a couple of years ago with that first little group that later launched me into looking for more musical opportunities in my life.  I loved it then, and I loved it when I heard it again Sunday morning for the first time in forever.  

Read the lyrics...they're amazing.

They heard His voice, a voice so mild.

It pierced them through and made their souls to quake.

They saw Him come, a man in white,

The Savior, who had suffered for their sake.

They felt the wounds in hands and side,

And each could testify:

This is the Christ.

This is the Christ, the holy Son of God,

Our Savior, Lord, Redeemer of mankind.

This is the Christ

The healer of our souls

Who ransomed us with love divine.

I read His words, the words He prayed

While bearing sorrow in Gethsemane.

I feel His love, the price He paid.

How many drops of blood were spilled for me?

With Saints of old in joyful cry

I too can testify

This is the Christ.

(Words by James E. Faust)

I found the song on Spotify yesterday morning and listened to it again.  And again.  Maybe four or five times.  And then part of the song stood out for me, "the words He prayed while bearing sorrow in Gethsamane," so I looked them up in Matthew and read them.  And that led to a really huge, immensely humbling experience that I won't even write about here because it's just way too much...even for me.    

After that, I remembered a woman stopping me on Sunday to ask if I would help her think of a musical number for a missionary homecoming/farewell that's coming up in our ward in a few weeks.  I checked to see if I still had the sheet music for this song.  I did not.  But the miracle of technology makes nearly everything instant these days, so within a few minutes I had printed out the accompaniment to This is the Christ.  (Success!)  Except what I had printed was actually the solo version...the low voice solo version.  (Eek!)  And that's when the "20 seconds of insane courage" took over.  I texted Donna and told her I had an arrangement of This is the Christ that might work for the program.  She asked if it was all women or mixed, and I said, "It's a solo arrangement."  And she said "For Craig? Or for you?"  And I did it...I said "for me" and I hit SEND.  (If I could add that emoji with the shocked face that's mostly eyes, I would do that here.)  

Donna was shocked,  I was shocked.  Craig was shocked when I texted him later and told him what I did.  Because I don't sing solos.  I'm a choir voice.  I'm support.  

There's still a possibility that divine intervention will do it's thing and...well, intervene...to save me from my recklessness.  The family may not love this song, or the Bishop may not love it, or there might miraculously be some better option that will slip in at the last minute.  I'm kinda hoping for one of those things.  In which case, I'll know for sure that it was impulse and insanity, not inspiration that made me do such a crazy thing yesterday. 

Or...

Maybe the water slide experience has gone to my head a little?  

Maybe this bravery isn't a fluke; maybe it's a trend?  

Maybe I'm braver than I thought and it's time to take on the next scary thing?

I'm leaving it alone for now and just letting the Powers That Be decide.  I'll let you know what happens.  

"Always do what you are afraid to do." - Ralph Waldo Emerson