Hear the Angel Voices
I’ve been waiting on myself to begin. I knew it was time to get back to this and I knew it was time for a shift. I shut down the old blog, bought a new name, and created a new site. A new chapter.
But how to begin, Becca, how to start. The pressure.
Y’all are like, uhhhhh, you start typing, you finish typing, you hit publish. What exactly are you talking about here. It’s a blog 12 people might read, not a national syndicate.
I don’t know, guys. All I can tell you is that I see ideas like that Sixth Sense kid saw dead people. Each idea is better than the last, more perfect than the last. I settle on one thing, then a better idea comes along, and then I see something on Instagram that is even cooler, and then hey! that website template is pretty, I’m going to download it, but hang on, it’s not quite right so let me google-learn how to code…
… and now I’m just worn out. I am over-detailed, frustrated with myself, and I don’t want to write anymore. Goodbye. My motivation and I have left the building.
“Perfection is the enemy of progress.” Preach.
So I put this blog project on indefinite hold. Perfection – 1, Becca – 0. But I needed to get on with my December life. I have a 9-foot ornament-tinsel-light doorway arch to make, people. It’s Christmas. I need to focus on some festive.
Last night was Xia’s Christmas Talent Show. Xia attends Capernaum, which is the Young Life club for teens and young adults with intellectual disabilities. Last night was the year-end show put on for families and friends.
This is not your typical Christmas pageant. There are no matching costumes or choreographed dance moves or mandatory practices. These club leaders know their members and this show promised light saber dance-fights, toilet paper people-wrapping, sweet ninja moves, and a kid who was going to stand on stage and lecture the audience about SpaceX rockets. Oh right, that’s my kid.
We showed up at the church venue and the kids, dressed in their various interpretations of Christmas cheer, went inside first for a last-minute run-through while the families mingled outside with hot cocoa and cookies. The doors opened, we filtered in and took our seats. Tap, tap, tap on the microphone. Introductions made, people thanked, emcees dressed as insta-famous celebs took the stage.
The show began with two young men. They took the stage, one with a guitar, and stood next to each other behind their own mics - coffeehouse style. The singer with the guitar was small with a child-like face and a never-faltering smile. The other singer towered over him, a sincere and gentle giant in a Santa hat.
It was not perfect by traditional Christmas show standards. I know some of you have kids who sing and dance and perform like little pros. Your kids can one, two, three leap with perfect timing and tempo, nutcrackering themselves to perfection.
This was not that.
The chords being strummed were not the chords of the song. Sometimes their voices were not loud enough for the mic to pick up, and the words being sung weren’t always the right ones or sung at the right times.
But the presence of these two filled the sanctuary. It was powerful, it was beautiful. It was a moment.
This wasn’t about the strumming or the singing. It was the eyes-closed, I am singing my heart out for you, giving you everything in me that is holy sincerity of this performance that caught my breath. These two took the stage, let their lights shine bright, and offered up their gifts. Their imperfect gift that I didn’t know I needed but very, very much did.
Fall on your knees, oh hear the angel voices.
I sat there listening with stinging eyes and thought, this is how you begin. This is how you start.
You show up. You come as you are. You bear your gifts.
And with that, she hit publish.