Problem was, no one, and I mean no one, loved to listen. In fact, no one even liked to listen. Because, and it took me years to accept this, I was terrible.
Not just American Idol reject terrible. Not just, "she doesn't sing well"--more in the line of She. Can't. Sing.
In second grade, as the school prepared it's winter program, I sang with enthusiasm, and gusto. They asked me to "be a little quieter." So I dampened my enthusiasm.
On the day of the program, the teacher gave me the "special assignment" of ushering and handing out programs.
But I never gave up. I truly believed in that "duckling into swan" tale, or "if at first you don't succeed, try try again."
But I was never in the chorus. Finally, in eighth grade, when it was becoming apparent that once again, I would not be part of the singing crowd, it overwhelmed me. I cried as the teacher tried to work with me. "I just want to sing" I said, and, being a kind and generous soul, as well as an excellent music teacher, he let me join.
That was a mistake. First, it led my eleven year old self to believe that maybe I could sing, after all. That emboldened me to join the junior choir at church.
The result: I then was a member of two choruses that told me "just mouth the words, Shelby".
And I did. I still wanted to be part of the eighth grade chorus, even though when I tried to sing, my fellow choir members would give me pained glances, as I threw them off key .
But the church choir director had no qualms. He spoke with the voice of God. And he gave me an assessment of my ability that has stayed with me all my life. "Shelby," he said, "has three notes--but she favors one of them".
I realized that was pretty accurate. And this year, for the first time, I know that my note is "F".
The iphone has an app that if you sing into it, it displays the notes for you. So I sang it several songs.
And every note I sang came back as an "F". With an occasional "C". But mostly "F's".
I loved it. After all these years, after all the times I've been told that I'm a monotone, tone deaf, or that I favor one note, I now know that note is. "F" . I now have a relationship with songs. True, it's a limited one. And true, I can't trot it out in public, because me and my constant "F" would certainly annoying to anyone with ears.
So its a fairly solitary relationship.
Would I like to have more notes? Of course I would. I'd love to open my mouth, and have a whole range of notes, a couple of octaves worth, come pouring out. But that's not what I have.
I have "F"
God gave me a love of music.
He also gave me "F"
We were never promised that we could have everything we loved or wanted. We certainly were not promised that refusing to acknowledge our limitations would somehow magically negate them. In fact, I've come to realize that not just acknowledging our limits, but embracing them, frees us to stop worrying about them, and to use our other gifts effectively.
Hello, "F" I love you!
