Music has always been a huge part of my life. My mother said I sang before I talked. In the middle of the night when most babies woke up crying to be fed, changed, or held, I’d wake up singing. She joked that only me and God knew what the lyrics were because to the human ear it sounded like baby babble – just put to a musical melody. She often woke up to find me smiling and singing to a picture on the wall near my crib. The picture was of Jesus. She asked me once, if I knew who was on the picture and if I sang for Him in Heaven. She said I responded to her with a coo and smile before returning my focus and my music back to Jesus. She knew then that music was going to be important to me.
As I grew up, this proved to be true. As a toddler I’d make up songs about whatever I saw or whatever was happening. I do not remember this, but I once sang about a tree in our yard. My mother said the song was 30 minutes long and she thought the song would never end. I wish we had recordings of my early years because I would love to see these moments. I do remember always listening to music and singing along to records, tapes (CDs came along in my late teens) or the radio. While most of my friends spent their free time watching TV, I spent mine absorbing music (from various genres).
As time went on life became hard, very hard. I endured some extremely emotional challenges as a result of trauma. Unfortunately, at one point I disconnected from music. Life was too painful, and music represented happier times. I saw no reason to enjoy music like I had for so many years. The music faded from my life and my voice was silenced. During those years, my mom would ask me why I no longer sang. I told her that music once made me smile and that I no longer had a reason to smile. Depression touches everyone – including children.
My dance with depression began in early childhood and it lasted until 2019. There were moments of remission, but depression was always there watching and waiting. 2019 was the darkest year of my life and there were moments that I did not think I was going to survive. I was tired, drained and losing my will to continue on. December 2019 was especially difficult – it was the darkest moments of my life. I checked out of life. I called it quits and threw in the towel.
However, towards the end of that December something lifted. I sensed a calming and shifting of the winds that had been battering my life for decades. I cannot tell you what happened or what caused the shift because I really have no clue. I am grateful for that shift because it gave me the strength I needed to check back into life. The very next month I went into therapy to deal with my lifelong dance with trauma. Through prayer, coaching and therapy I was able to begin healing from sexual, physical, mental, and emotional abuse. I was able to reawaken my love of music.
Although I had silenced the music within me, I was still singing. I sang on my church’s praise team. However, I was struggling. I was struggling to connect to the music and connect my voice to the music.
Our church’s doors were closed to in person worship in March of 2020 because of the pandemic. We shifted to virtual worship. During that time, our building began renovation. Due to equipment shortages and shipping delays, renovations took longer than expected. We are preparing to return to in person worship in two weeks.
To prepare, the worship team began rehearsing again. I spent the entire shut down immersing myself in music. I wanted to be prepared when we did return. I did not want to return to in person worship still struggling. Our first rehearsal was this past week. I just knew I would be fine. I had prepared well. I knew our new music and I knew my part. When I got to the church, I was devastated to learn that the part I learned was completely wrong. It was official the music within me had died and I had starved it to death. All of the preparation was wasted because nothing had changed or so I thought.
I had changed. I was no longer singing the tunes of my past. I had been singing alto when I was really a contralto. I had been struggling to find my voice because I had been looking in the wrong places. My voice was telling me all along where I belonged. As I listened to the music and sang along, my voice was right there. My voice was revealing to me where I belonged. I did not hear it because my focus was on hearing and executing the alto notes. During rehearsal, I stopped trying to sing the alto notes and just sang what I had at home. It was noticed by our worship leader. She decided to move me to the tenor section. Well, it worked. I started picking up my notes easily and she mentioned that my tone was so much richer singing tenor notes.
The music within had not died but it was singing a new tune. There was part of me that wanted to resist this new tune, a female tenor. I did not want to be a female tenor. It did not feel feminine at all. However, there are a few accomplished female tenors, so I am in good company. Toni Braxton and Anita Baker are two of my favorite female tenors. They are beautiful and feminine.
I am now embracing this new tune and I am learning to love the sound of my voice. I am Michelle and I sing tenor.
Conversations From the Heart 