Cutting the Chords

I underwent a rather large surgery this summer to remove my thyroid (and the cancer camping out there), and then followed it up with some radiation treatment just for good measure. Since then, singing just plain hurts. The thyroid pretty much sits cozied up to your vocal chords like 12 year old BFF girls at a scary movie. And to get to it, all the muscles in the way get a good slicing. I miss singing. I’m a car singer, a shower singer, a church singer, a kitchen sink singer… you name the place, I’ll sing there. Or I’ll at least be rocking out in my head.  All that to say, to go melodically silent for 3 months has been less than good times.

The hardest part about it though has been in church. I love worship. It’s what makes church enjoyable most Sundays. I can sing to God and feel His presence. Thank Him for things He’s done in my life. Remind myself that He’s there. But suddenly I lost my big connector.

And then today I realized that I’ve been a bit selfish in what I’m looking for in worship. I want it to feel good. I like that it comforts the doubting Thomas in me. What I’m not remembering though, is that I’d like to actually just be worshipping… You know, bowing down to honor. Idolizing (Yes, idolizing. It’s a great thing in the right context). Loving. Selflessly showing my adoration without regard to how it makes me feel.

Someone once wrote a song about me, and quite possibly, it was the kindest gesture I’ve ever received. To write a card is lovely. To call a friend and tell them you care is wonderful. But to put pen to paper and create a song, design music around it, and then gather the courage to sing did more to make me feel cared for than I can really explain.

Today I sang a song to someone else. I did it knowing it comes out scratchy and hurts if I get too loud. I did it expecting no response, just wanting to make someone else feel good. Because that someone made me (and you, and the world, and, and, and). Because He deserves to have a concert for one.

And you know what, it still didn’t feel so warm and fuzzy. And it still hurt. But I know that for the first time in a while, I sang and I worshipped just to show God that I love him. And that feels pretty dang good.