I didn’t know it the first time I met you

You smiled at me and looked the other way

I didn’t know when you walked into the next room

That one day you would take my breath away

I didn’t know the one day I’d be counting hours

Until I could hear your voice again

I didn’t know that I’d see you walking down the isle

Putting my ring on your hand

I didn’t know that I would love the small things

Like the way I find your hairs on me.

I didn’t know I would be this happy

Just to hear you laugh uncontrollably

I didn’t know that you could spend forever

And still find things you never knew

I didn’t know what true love was

Not until I started down this path with you.

I’m so thankful for the things I didn’t know.

I have a confession to make. I can sing. Yes. I can sing fairly well. No, I won’t sing anything for you to prove it. Well, maybe I might. You pick the song and pay for the karaoke. The truth is I don’t do it much at all anymore. But there was a day…

A long time ago in a world far, far away, there was a time I sang a lot. I mean, all the time. Incessantly. Sometimes the singing was good. Other times it resembled Will Farrell’s character in the movie “Elf” (I am in a store and I am singing…). I enjoyed singing before I got to high school, but I really started to focus in on it in about the 10th grade. I got some funny looks when I gave up most sports for choir, but that is what I wanted to do.

I still remember a comical phone call from an army recruiter my senior year:

“Hello Young Man,” a gruff, but friendly voices said on the other end of the phone. 

“Hello, sir. How can I help you?” I replied respectfully. 

“Son, have you ever considered a career in the armed forces? The Army could just be the place for you.”

“Thank you sir,” I replied politely. No, I hadn’t through of going into the Army. I had no interest in it either, but it is nice to be wanted to so I continued the phone conversation 

“Tell me something boy,” the recruiter said sizing me up. “How big a boy are you?”

“Six foot and 190 pounds.”

“Really?” I could hear that he was pleased. He thought he had a good sized fish on the line. He decided to try to reel it in. “What do you like to do?”

Upon hearing this question, I smiled. “I sing bass in the choir.” 

There was a slight pause. “I am sorry young man. I don’t believe we have a spot for you.” True story.

I sang in the school mixed choir, men’s choir and show choir. I also sang in the church choir and performed solos for services. I just loved to sing. It became my identity. So much so that I became extremely competitive and a tad bit arrogant. Ok. A lot arrogant. I thought I could sing really well. Turns out, I was partly right. I could sing. The quality of the signing from those days is still in question. Some was very good. Some never needs to be heard by human ears ever again.

I tried out for many honor choirs while I was in high school. I was in the All District Choir 3 times. I made the All State Choir twice. I even made a Regional National Honor Choir as well. I went to every summer music camp that I could find. I loved those days. I got to sing and I enjoyed it. 

After high school, I got a full scholarship to go to college to sing. So, my freshman year of college I attended University where I majored in Vocal Music Education. I knew I loved singing and I had no idea how I would make a career out of it, so getting my degree to teach it seemed like the thing to do. I figured that I could also lead music at a church somewhere while teaching music at school. It would be the best of both worlds. While there I was in the choirs, show choir, and even a barbershop quartet. I enjoyed it for a time, but I began to get restless.

I thought the restlessness was just that I needed to get out of the small town where I went to high school. So, I auditioned at a different University and I received a full scholarship to sing. I was on my way again, on an exciting adventure doing something that I loved. While there, I changed my major from Vocal Music Education to Vocal Performance. I can’t say I put a lot of thought into it, but it has been interesting over the years telling people that I majored in ”Opera” at school.

By the end of my sophomore year, I knew that I did not enjoy the choir environment as much as I once had. It may have been the fact that I was singing more than I ever had at that point, but I am not sure that is why my passion was slipping away. I was beginning to understand that I wasn’t as good as I had always thought I was. There were singers around me that were a lot better than me. Some that weren’t as good. But, everyone had their own very strong opinions of what they thought good and bad singing was. I got told more than once by an upperclassmen that I was not matching pitch. I wanted to punch him. He was probably right…

My junior year of college was starting and I knew that I needed to make a change. So, I walked into the counsellor’s office and I asked what the shortest route to victory was. I was almost 80 hours into my college journey and I changed majors. Funny thing was though, six months later I took my first (mostly) full time position at an area church as a…you guessed it…music minister. Maybe I just wanted to use my singing to serve God. In another 2 years I was burned out on that as well. 

I finally realized that I love music, because I love music. I don’t need a degree to love it. I don’t have to sing in a choir. I don’t have to sing professionally. I certainly don’t need to lead a choir. If I choose to write a song, I write a song. If I want to learn a something new on my guitar or piano, I do that. Once when my boy was younger I had my guitar out and I was making up silly songs about my his socks and how I didn’t want him to touch me with his stinky feet. I loved every minute of that. He did too.

Sometimes I wonder if I missed it by not finishing my music degree…nope. For me, music is something I enjoy for me. I’m ok with that.

Is it possible that we get so busy living our lives that we never ask ourselves am I where I want to be? Some may know the answer to this, but many of us are left puzzled. Have we never really paused long enough to think about the question?

For example…the person who weighs 400 pounds. The person who spends every night at the bar. The person who spends every extra penny at the casino. What got them there? What will get them out? What have they been searching for the entire time? The answer is out there, even if it is not where they are lookng. The answer is out there for you and me as well.

This the good news. We don’t have to stay where we are. We can choose to look in the mirror. We can choose to be honest. If you can’t be honest with the person staring back at you, you can’t be honest with anyone. Ask the question….what makes me happy? Where do I find joy? Am I where I want to be? Take a few steps back and look at your situation. Ask a friend you trust for their opinion. Get a good clear picture. If you aren’t there yet, knowing what you want is the first step.

This quote is one of my favorites:

There is a giant asleep within every man. When the giant awakes, miracles happen. — Frederick Faust

I have been actively trying to prod my own giant of late. Having gone through cancer last year my body has not been in the best of shape. While I have been cancer free for 18 months now, my 41 year old body seemed stuck. I was having a hard time shaking the extra weight I had put on. I was heavier than I had been in…almost ever. I wasn’t healing as fast as I needed to. I just felt rough all over. I had to take a look in the mirror and ask myself some hard questions.

Was it the cancer that had me feeling this way? Was I just a victim to chemotherapy and it’s affects on the body? Was I really stuck? The answer that came back to me? No. This was my fault.

My choices had to change. Sure, chemo and other meds did a job on my body, but I wasn’t giving it every opportunity it needed to get better. My choice to eat whatever I wanted and drink more than I should wasn’t helping. My choice to not be consistent in my exercise wasn’t good either. The cancer left it’s mark, but I was the one to blame here.

The solution? I took my power to choose back. In September of this year I committed to following an eating and exercise program. I don’t call it a diet because I am not dieting. I have chosen to be different with my lifestyle. I use a calorie counter now and stick to a reasonable calorie limit. I intermittently fast. I have a workout routine I follow. I have completed 17 weeks now without missing. I have lost 25 pounds in four months. Truth be told, I am mad at myself for not finding the honesty and chutzpah to do all of this sooner.

When we start being honest about where we are, we can begin to take steps in the right direction. With each step we take, we make choices. These choices can lead to the miracle that Faust was describing.

Are your choices taking you toward the life you want? Or further away? Make the choice today to wake up the giant. Make the choice to do something great.

Hope makes the heart tingle. It energizes as it moves in.

It makes its way across the body and it spreads throughout your limbs.

Lungs that were dusty breathe in fresh and deep.

Your brain waves start moving as the giant awakes from its sleep.

Purpose now in view, destiny not far behind.

The eyes of your soul are no longer blind.

So breath in the air and bask in the warmth of the sun.

Your future is calling. Your winter is done.

What started as a spark has fanned into a flame.

Purpose has remade you. You have a new name.

A body once useless has found its glory once again.

Hope has brought life to the future of the man.

I wrote this several years ago. I found it tonight and have no idea where I was going with the story. It seemed fun and worth sharing.

“Time chases us all…and one day catches us,” he said to me as we sat at the bar. “We don’t notice it when we are young because our legs are strong and our steps are light.” The old man paused for a second to take a drink.

“As we age the grasp of time tugs at our ankles. It trips us and we start to stumble. We are not able to move as fast as we once did.” A remorse lay deep in his eyes as he spoke these words. “As we age further we reach the point where time has crawled like a bandit on to our backs. It weighs us down and seeks to steal the life we live.” He paused again, savoring the flavor of his last drink.

“It’s weight becomes so unbearable that we eventually break. We fall to the ground…and our time is gone on this earth.” His eyes were misty. Time was indeed catching up to him. His tired old eyes had seen many hard days I was sure.

Then, he turned and faced me. A wry smile coming across his worn face. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. I wasn’t sure if he was drunk or just depressed.

“But what if we could step outside of the reach of time?” he asked me quite seriously.

“Suspended in space where time could not touch us?” In a flash, his face began to look younger. Vibrancy filled his tired body. “To a place that never grows old, but is new with life every day?” He saw the puzzled look on my face, and I saw the earnest in his eyes.

In a matter of minutes the old man that stood before me was gone. I sat mesmerized at the man now before me. His hands were strong. He was tall in stature. His eyes burned with fire.

“There is such a place,” he said as he took a step closer to me. “I have been there many times.” He offered me his hand as a light started to glow about him. “I would like to take you there if you are willing to go with me.”

With no thought in my mind, but what was before me I took his hand. He pulled me slowly to my feet. And in a moment I will never forget, he took me to a place I have always wanted to be. A place that was designed for me. He took me home.