I wasn't nervous before my feet hit the pitcher's mound. I had sung the song a thousand times growing up. It was one of those songs I don't remember learning, but always remember knowing. I'd performed it with youth choirs at Major League Baseball Games and watched to see who would sing it for major sporting events on TV. Never had I stood on the mound alone, looked into empty stands and tried to recite the words long remembered in my heart while being judged on my ability.
I was there to audition to sing the national anthem for our local baseball team: The Savannah Sand Gnats. Yes, only in the south do you give such an annoying, pesky insect the title of: mascot. (Although, my history of mascots has always been questionable. "We are the Skippers. The mighty, mighty Skippers" was the chant often heard at my High School Alma Mater). Prior to walking onto the baseball field, I sat with a handful of others who were also secretly critiquing how they measured up against each person. I watched as girl after girl decked out in their trendiest of clothes, curled hair and make-up stood before the Sand Gnats version of American Idol. I was going more for "The Voice" in my wet hair, no make up and fleece jacket. (In my defense, I had decided not to audition and then stopped when noticed there were hardly any cars there when I drove by.) Despite our appearance, regardless of where we felt we landed on the measuring stick, there were claps and sometimes cheers given to each person who braved the mound. There, within the bounds of competition, there was also camaraderie.
"Next up: Morgan Paddock" said the girl on the baseball field. I gave myself a pep talk as I walked onto the field. I did what I always do when I'm nervous: become really "happy-go-lucky" and play it off with humor.I tried to appear confident in my ability while trying to mentally stop my hands from shaking and sweating profusely. One of the girls before me forgot the words and had to pull out her phone to recall them. That was my biggest fear: forgetting what I knew, under pressure. I took a deep breathe, smiled and opened my mouth to sing the first note. How do you really know which note to start on without a pitch pipe? I picked one and hoped for the best. Most of the time I singing from a stage where the speakers are pointed out away from me. Standing on that mound, I was hit from every direction with the raw sound of my voice being shot back at me on level 10. I remember saying "sorry" somewhere in the first section for my voice giving out. The judges were writing their thoughts about me and my ability the whole time I was singing.
My least favorite part of the song are the words "Red Glare" the highest point in the song where if you picked the wrong starting note can create disastrous results. The combination of nerves + breathing + cold remains caused this robotic sound to come out on those words that can never be duplicated if I tried. I closed my eyes and put my hand on my diaphragm to calm me as I sang the next few words. There was something about blocking out the overwhelming sights and focusing on what I knew. I heard my voice steady and gain confidence. By the end, I was looking right at the judges doing what I love: singing. I landed the ending in fullness on "The Home....of the......Brave."
Hoping that I they would remember the ending more than the beginning I approached the judges and handed them the microphone. They said, "Great job." I quickly followed with, "sorry, I had to sing with a cough drop in my mouth," as to somehow excuse any of my mistakes and cushion my own judgements. As I approached the table where I had left my purse, a girl said, "I'm sitting here blown away right now." I thanked her but really thought, "um...didn't you hear my voice shaking? Didn't you hear how "red glare" came out of my mouth?" The judges thanked us for our time and said they would call us. I walked back to the car half embarrassed and half proud that I did it and God did what he always does: gave my a life application beyond singing the National Anthem for a baseball game.
How often do I know in my heart what I believe and yet freeze when I'm in the midst of a decision or facing a big trial? How confident am I that my God loves me and has gifted me to serve Him, yet compare myself to others in those gifts? Have I hidden His Word in my heart so deeply that when I open my mouth it overflows? Do I seek approval internally? Or do I put my worth in what others opinions are? When the stands are full of people and I'm given a platform: What does my life preach and where does my peace come from?
Sweet friends, we have to remember that this life is not a competition and our worth is not based on our ability. Any platform we are given is an opportunity to point to Christ and His worth and His ability. We are nothing without Him. Our life is given purpose with Him. We don't have to apologize for who we are.
I may or may not get a phone call to sing at the game, but I'm thankful that God takes every opportunity to give me gentle reminders of His love for me. I'll never look at baseball the same way.
Play ball.
Blessings,
Morgan
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