THE LANGUAGE OF SONG

Any time a trip is on the horizon, it makes me think of all of the places I've already been. 

In January 2009, I flew to Frankfurt to attend a conference for women at Jesus World Outreach Center in Heidelberg, Germany. 

In August, it was back to Frankfurt again for revival services at Schweinfurt Christian Center in Sennfeld/Bayern. 

I was invited back to Heidelberg early this year. 

In January, I stayed a week, had a lovely time with the JWOC family, and from there spent a week in Ramstein-Meisenbach and Altenglan visiting with friends, Bishop J. Alan and Wanda Neal, and the gracious congregation at Agape Christian Faith Center.

When I think of the places the Lord has blessed me to go, I can't help but thank Him, and acknowledge that his word is true. He really does know the plans he has for me! It must be His idea, because I personally put the "H" in homebody. God knows my comfort zone . If I don't have to go anywhere, I'm quite content at home. However, the effort, kindness, and relentlessness of others, has enriched my life. Sometimes at a moment's notice, I get to go places I'd only seen in encyclopedias, atlases, and PBS travel programs--and when I get there, someone actually wants to hear me sing. 

I've always liked to sing, and do so appreciate a well written song, but I have to admit that I only began singing publicly because my Mother made me join the youth choir at our church when I was 12. 

The last place my insecure self wanted to be, was in front of people. 

Who knew that the thing I only LIKED to do, and did out of obedience, would become a way of life? 

Lesson? 

Always listen to your mother.

There are times when you really have to thank God for the diligence of someone else, and realize that nothing occurs accidentally. 

In 2008, I was afforded a wonderful opportunity to travel to Spain, to sing with the Madrid Gospel Choir at the World's Fair in Zaragoza. 

When I got the call and heard "Spain", I had to ask the caller to repeat herself. I'd never been there before, and there was not a lot of time to plan, but I didn't waste time thinking about saying "Yes!". 

The Lord had opened yet another door for me to meet brothers and sisters in Christ from another country. I thought about the fact that, when it came to songs of worship and praise to God, there seemed to be no language barriers.

There were wonderful rehearsals in preparation for the concert called "Coro Gospel Agua Viva". 

Traveling to Zaragoza from Madrid was a lovely experience. 

Upon our arrival at the expo site, I learned that media outlets scheduled interviews with Richard. The Aragon Radio interview was to be held outdoors at the concert venue. Richard graciously invited Charrisse and I to participate. I planned to just sit there smile, keep quiet, and just be happy to be in the number. Radio announcer, Joaquin Guzman spoke very little English, and for the first time in my life, I sorely regretted not taking at least one Spanish class in high school. 

Of the two language classes I did take, French and Latin, I emerged unscathed, but only retaining enough to barely get by. Latin helped a great deal with English--especially those words with way too many letters. French just sounded beautiful to the ear. I loved speaking it, but didn't completely understand a thing I said, wrote, or read. I could at least eek out a decent greeting, and order the right food from a menu. 

My Spanish was rusty at best, but thankfully, I am a member of the baby boomer, phonics generation. I can still hear my teachers saying, "Sound it out!" And we "sounded" words out until we were exhausted--but we could pronounce them, spell them, and use them in sentences. We were told that people appreciate it when you at least attempt to communicate with them in their own language--and when it came to YOUR own native language, YOU should be the master of it.

In the days prior to the trip I tried a hopeless, personal crash course. I turned on the television, and would leave it on the Spanish speaking channel as if that would somehow miraculously transform me into Senora Vanessa. What was I thinking? I was suddenly grateful for Sesame Street, but I knew it was useless for me to try and become fluent in a matter of days. Our interpreters, Nancy, Steve, and Terry were wonderful, but I felt so sad that I couldn't communicate for myself the way I wanted to. I sincerely believe, though, if the Lord wants you to say something, He has no trouble making it happen.

In the midst of the interview, Nancy relayed that Joaquin wanted to hear a song. Richard, Charrisse and I looked at each other. I'm my parents' least aggressive child, so I was sure one of them would start singing, or Richard would suggest something. When he looked at me and nodded, I had one of those moments when not one of the hundreds of songs you KNOW that you know would come to mind! Not even one of HIS songs came to mind! Joaquin was smiling and waiting, and an early audience was slowly filling into the seats. Then my brain did something for which I will always be amazed. You can't remember where you put the ink pen you just wrote with. You can't recall your own phone number. You stand at the refrigerator wondering why you opened the door--but you see someone from elementary school in the mall, and you can remember what they wore on picture day, and what their book report was about. That hot day in Spain, my brain kicked in, and I remembered hearing Sandi Patti sing:

Por la Via Dolorosa, triste dia en Jerusalem
Los soldados le abren paso a Jesus
Mas la gente se acercaba
Para ver al que llevaba aquella cruz
Por la Via Dolorosa que es la via del dolor
Como oveja vino Cristo, Rey, Senor
Y fue El quien quiso ir por su amor por ti y por mi
Por la Via Dolorosa al Calvario y a morir

I remembered, and the words just poured out. I sang into Joaquin' microphone what I'd heard Sandi sing. When I finished, he turned to Nancy and spoke. Nancy translated, "Will you be singing that tonight? I smiled and said, "No", and that the song just kinda showed up out of nowhere. Joaquin turned and spoke to Nancy again. She translated, "Beautiful! I should go to Mass more often!"

After it was over, Nancy asked me if I knew what I had done. I was praying that I hadn't butchered the language, and instead of singing about our Lord and Savior, I'd sung about Jesus the happy squirrel running through the streets of Jerusalem in his striped pajamas, or something. I don't know why I thought Aragon was a small Christian radio station. I didn't know it was secular, and nationwide. Nancy told me that I had sung of the love and sacrifice of Jesus on a station that rarely, if ever played Christian music, in a country where there is not nearly the glut of religious broadcasting that we sorely take for granted in America. She even complimented me on my Spanish.

"I didn't know you spoke Spanish!", she said. 

I laughed. "I don't". 

Because Sandi Patti studied, I was able to share. Thanks Sandi. 

Thank You, too, Lord.

My next out of the country stop? Guadeloupe. I'm looking forward to returning. It's been about 10 years since I first traveled there. (I have to brush up on my French, I suppose.)

 
Hallelujah! 

Now that's one word that everyone, everywhere understands.