The phone call came ten minutes before I left the house for a full choral
concert I was to take part in; an evening that filled me with joy and
anticipation for many weeks.

Yet, with one call and eight words, they made a puncture in my spirit,
threatening to leak the joy and anticipation.
The words were simple. “There are new masses on your remaining
thyroid.”

As I walked to my car, my simple choral uniform of a black skirt and
white blouse billowed around me in the cool fall breeze while my spirit
was rigid with fear.

I opened the door and sat behind the wheel, remembering a similar call
five years ago. “You have a walnut-sized tumor on your thyroid. The
biopsy results make it urgent that I operate now.”
I started the car and traveled down the half-mile driveway; my mind
continuing its journey.

I remembered the surgery and follow-up treatments. The surgeon told
me the remaining part of my thyroid was healthy, but because this
procedure was at the onset of menopause, getting my thyroid counts
regulated took several years.

As I drove down the long road that runs parallel to the Atlantic Ocean
on the coast of Maine, my emotions sang within me a requiem,
predicting what I feared in the immediate future; pain, sickness, and
death.

My prayers were in a minor key that matched my feelings. “Lord,
please don’t make me do this again,” as tears flowed down the scale
on the score I was writing.

Pulling into the parking place behind the historic Congregational
church, I saw fellow singers arriving and moving about. All had
smiles of anticipation on their faces and I wondered if my spirit
could push aside my fear and allow the joy back in.
I immersed myself in the evening’s bustle and for a time, my love
of singing conducted my spirit.

As I sang show tunes, pieces by Mozart, and folk songs, my
thoughts were in perfect harmony with the rest of the group, yet
when we moved into the pleading notes of songs bearing the weight
of the world, my throat tightened.

Singing through the crescendo of emotion, our concert finished with
a standing ovation, yet I felt like a hypocrite, not because of my
singing but because, as a Christian, I was afraid to die.

Hours later, my thoughts and feelings had not slowed down, but I
knew it was necessary to get some rest. I sang the cantata I wrote
five years ago.
Though the music was in minor chords, I sang boldly about my
salvation and the promises of the next life. The notes I penned were
sure and steady and yet, fear resonated.

I moved through the hours of the next day in a fog. Notes were
moving up and down in the song my mind and heart were singing.
These songs contained God’s words, I believe and embrace.
“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” Revelation 21:4a
(NIV)

“What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man
imagined, what God has prepared for those who love Him.” I
Corinthians 2:9
“In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would
have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.” John 14:2 (KJV)
“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his faithful
servants.” Psalm 116:15 (NIV)
Yet, even when listening to these songs, fear still lurked in the
wings offstage. I felt like I was a hypocrite and a terrible example to
others.

Later that day, as I sat quietly, a new
thought came to me. Jesus
responded emotionally to many
things. He poured out His emotions
in the Garden of Gethsemane in
Luke 22.
The Old Testament prophet, Isaiah, predicted that Jesus would be “a
man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” (Isaiah 53:3 -KJV). And
John 11 tells us that Jesus wept in Lazarus’ tomb.
At that moment, notes of peace filled my spirit. Yes, I am a Christian
and yes, my feelings are all over the place and yet, I can still have
faith even when I struggle emotionally.

In my difficulties, I can play the score that holds God’s promises and
my emotions will eventually play on key.

I can be a Christian and experience every emotion. Why? Because
I am a human being, loved and understood by my Creator.
I can play the songs of promise and hope found in God’s word,
allowing my emotions to eventually sing in harmony.
There is a new song in my heart.