Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Playing the Good Tar and Singing

I cried in church on Sunday.

It wasn't the first time.

I've been known to become overwhelmed by the music or the message, but this time it was about something different.

My husband was playing in the worship band, playing "good tar," as our son likes to say, and, for one of the first times, I could actually hear him singing.

My mom whispered in my ear something about how I must feel about finally having this life - holding my sweet son in my lap while I listen to my husband play guitar.

That was close to why I was crying, but it's not quite right.

My tears had nothing to do with my own happiness.

Yes, I spent years struggling to find a sense of peace and happiness in my life. I even wrote a whole (often whiny) blog about my path to joy (no link don't need to read it right now, trust me). But this moment wasn't about the end of that struggle.

Here's the point where I'm sure my husband's wonderful mom will start crying, too (don't say I didn't warn you).

I was crying because he finally had this moment of joy that he's been searching for since he moved from Oklahoma, the land of a thousand churches.  Since he first set foot in California, he's sought the right church home, the chance to use his gift to praise God.  And he finally had the chance.

Later in the service, I not only heard my husband singing, but his voice was the dominant one in the band, and the best thing is that he had no idea. He hadn't realized that the sound techs had turned up his mic; so, there he was singing as loud as can be, strumming his guitar, just being entirely in his element. I had to tell everyone around me that it was his voice they were hearing.  My heart swelled, and my eyes overflowed again.

This truly good man is entirely supportive of my endeavors, and running and photography have taken a lot more of his support and time in the past couple of years.  My hobbies are complicated - watch our son while I go run for 13.1 miles or give up the computer for five nights in a row so I can get edit these photos.

His hobbies require little of me, but it's taken the nearly five years of our marriage and eight years in California to pick up a guitar and sing.

And seeing him and hearing him and knowing how much it means to him...that's why I was crying.

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