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A Voice Like Momma

March 22, 2016

My home church in Arkansas has always had the classic “come all” style choir, specials every service, and a quartet to boot. I grew up surrounded by talented and anointed voices in a church setting. Music, for me, is a vital part of how I communicate to my Father and as a kid, I would sing along with each song loud and proud without shame or restraint.

 

The only problem was as a kid I was tone deaf. Seriously, I know some of you may have your doubts, but I am not lying. I, Meagan, was a tone deaf kid. Ask my mom. Ask my Dad. Ask my Nanna and Pap (my childhood pastors). Each of them will tell you the same thing.  I COULD NOT SING. If their words don’t convince you, I know there is some audio proof in the sound bite vaults of Bearden First Assembly of God.

 

Not only was I surrounded by amazing vocals at church, but my entire family could sing (or so it seemed then). My mom, my uncles, my aunts, my cousins…..  Everyone around me could sing the phone book and cause ticket sales to skyrocket. Unfortunately, I was not blessed with the same gift as they were and I wanted to be.

 

Even then, as a youngster, I was a music junkie. I was at practically every “local” concert The Martins had in south Arkansas, to the point they knew me by name and face. I had every Carmanalbum. Candy Christmas and Janet Paschal held private concerts in my room (whether they knew it or not). Anytime I had the opportunity to turn the radio or tv to the local pop or country station I would. I can vividly remember rollerblading around my parent’s drive with my hot pink walkman attempting back sits and hitting a high C. I had big dreams of becoming the first Olympic Ice Skater to hold multiple Grammy Awards and gold medals.

 

You do remember I keep telling you I had a warped view of childhood, right? Don’t judge me.

 

Nothing could stop me from achieving my dream except that I was a tone deaf kid with the nearest ice over an hour away.

 

I can remember laying on my bedroom floor on Saturday afternoons listening to Mom practice with soundtracks in her room and asking God to give me a voice like Momma. I spent many car rides home from those concerts with The Martins in tears because I wanted to sing like them. I wanted a voice….a voice like my momma. I tried and tried. I prayed and prayed, but I still couldn’t sing.

 

At the age of nine, I gave up on my dream of becoming the first Olympian-Grammy winning singer on the planet. I vowed to never sing another note of  In The Presence Of Jehovah or put another pair of roller blades through the paces of attempting another Oksana Baiul routine.

 

Everything changed when Mom and I went to a Christian bookstore in Little Rock on one of our many girls only trips. While shopping, I found one of my favorite hymns in the soundtrack area. Without thinking twice I did what I always did and took the track into the booth for a listen. I didn’t know it, but the booths were not soundproof and I began to sing. Mom came from across the store and insisted that I get that soundtrack and sing it at the upcoming school talent show so I did because, let’s face it, Momma knows best.

 

I spent my childhood praying for a voice like Momma and when I gave my voice to God and stopped singing for others, I began singing in tune with the voice God gave me. Now, you can’t get me to stop singing. Wherever I go I have a song in my heart that I can’t help but hum along or even belt a few bars of here and there.

 

I am not an Olympic Gold Medalist these days and I haven’t won multiple Grammy Awards, but what I have won is the attention of my Father and that is far greater than anything I ever imagined. I may not ever sing on the same level as my childhood idols, but I sing with the same passion and zeal to see lost souls come to know the same saving Grace I have encountered.

 

If you have a desire to do something, anything, seek the Lord. He is faithful and he will give you the desires of your heart. He may not do it how or when you think he should because he knows best, but he will always come through.

 

In Christ,

Megs

 

 

 

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