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"Now, we're gonna have a solo by Sis. Morgan Taylor," said Sunny D, the emcee of the Young People's Program at Lifeway Church.
Morgan got up at the sound of her name and walked to the front.
Sunny D handed her the mic.
"Praise the Lord saints," said Morgan in a low, raspy voice.
It was a very cold December night in 2008. So cold, you wanted to stay in an establishment with working heat, until the seasons changed and the weather got warmer.
"Giving honor to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, to Bishop Jergens, Mother Jergens, all the elders, deacons, missionaries, saints and friends," Morgan began. "I'm going to try to sing an old song. Please pray for me in Jesus' name."
Morgan never liked singing in front of people, because she knew it was different than singing in private. Whenever she sang in public, an invisible claw of fear would clamp itself onto her face, which spread to her chest and arms.
"I've been down in the water," she started to sing.
{Oh God. It's already started.} Italics
"And I've been baptized." Morgan looked past the people in the small church, to the back wall, so that she wouldn't see anyone's eyes.
"Now my soul is clean, with God I'm satisfied." She went right into the second verse for she didn't know the words to the first. The sheet of paper the words were written on, laid around the house somewhere; some thirty minutes away.
Suddenly, fear tightened its grip on her face, and like a massive growth, spread inside to her throat, causing her to breathe shorter breaths.
"All my friends," she sang weakly. "They laughed at me when I told them from sin oooh I've been set free. But every time they tried to knock me down, God put another star in my crown."
Her voice completely collapsed. How bad she wanted to sing like Teddy Cross from the group Willie Neal and The Gospel Keynotes. How bad she wanted to get it together and overcome. How bad she wanted to sit down, or better yet, place the mic on the piano and leave church.
The embarrassment was just too great for her to fight the claw. It leaped in her chest, causing her not to feel the beat of her heart. Yet, she was standing. And bound with invisible chains.
In spite of the million thoughts that told her to go, end the song, leave, sit down, Morgan knew she'd have to sing again, since the song was about two minutes long.
She took a deep breath and sang, but quieter this time. Once she got through the second verse, she looked at her dad, who's been the church's devotional leader for decades. Bro. Taylor got up from sitting in the back and walked to the front, but didn't help Morgan out.
When he was offered a mic, he declined it. He sat on the second pew, however, looked at his duaghter and gave an encouraging smile.
It didn't help.
{Dad, get up here.} Italics.
She wanted to beckon, but her hands were stiff. She wanted to fight the claw, but was too cowardly. She wanted some help, but she figured maybe she and her father were the only ones there who knew the song that night.
She sang the chorus once more, because Mom said, before service started, "don't end the song too quick."
"I've been down in the water..." The congregation started to sing along with her, just as she was about to sit down.
{Fine timing.} Italics.
"Now my soul is clean, with God I'm satisfied." Never did Morgan feel so ready to give the mic up and sit down.
{Where's the emcee?} Italics.
After looking around for Sunny D, who seemed to have disappeared without a trace, Morgan placed the cordless mic on the piano, where the minister of music, Elder Jergins, picked up on the hymn. He looked at her from the piano and grinned.
"Why you stop?" he asked.
She couldn't believe he asked her that. {Are you kiddin? That was bad. I'm done brother.} Italics.
This was what she wanted to say, but smiled, embarrassed instead.
"You did good," her mom said. Morgan knew she wasn't telling the truth. She knew that parents are obligated to be supportive whether their children are disastrous or not.
The Young People's program continued with a few saints putting on a skit. Elder Jergens, one of the pastor's sons, was a judge, one of the younger church members played a bailiff, two older saints were attorneys and the rest were prisoners.
Morgan didn't care, she just wanted to leave service.
Her dad walked over to where she and her mother were sitting. Morgan turned around to face him.
"Are we leaving early?"
Her father initially told the family he would leave early because he had to pay a bill before Sears closed at 10, and it was already after 9.
Since she and her parents drove to church in separate cars, Morgan reasoned --- despite her anger and humiliation --- that they should leave church together, after a 10 minute wait, so it wouldn't look like she only came to church to sing, rather than coming to sit in on the entire program.
But the claw, which released its grip after her performance, did it for her.
Morgan followed her parents, who were already in the Ford F-150 waiting for her to safely get to her car and pull out. She unlocked her ride, started up the ignition and parted from her parents, who would meet her at home in the next 30 minutes or so.
All she knew, once she was out of their sight and past the church, was that she would drive all the way home like a mad woman. All because she was mad. And angry.
Why did it always happen to her? Why did she have severe stage fright? Why does it come in waves? (The first time, low, the second time, mild, the third time severe.) Why could she sing freely in private, but sing bound in public? Why was she unable to hold the mic without gripping it, like it would jump from her hands?
People told her she had a nice voice and she's always been humble about it. She was thankful if she got a compliment. She wasn't conceited. But that doesn't explain the claw reappearing every time she's called to sing in public. Why doesn't it leave her alone? Is she reaping for an action sewed in the past?
Her mind was in overdrive, just like her car.
"I'm never gonna sing, or speak in public again," she said, flying by cars and billboards on I-64. "That was it. That is it. I am not singing or speaking in public again." "I hate it."
When Morgan arrived home, she went in the house, wept and ate cookies in cream, wondering if she'll ever have a change of heart in the future about not singing or speaking in public again.
If she did, suppose the saints refused her request to do what she wanted, so that she couldn't tackle her fear. Her way. Using her methods. No matter how crazy or insane. "What works for some, may not work for all," she sniffed, holding her old, worn Teddy tight.
Morgan knew that life wasn't always gonna be peachy, especially during the lemon moments (the sour moments). She knew that those moments would become past moments and knows that she will undoubtedly experience future moments like her past moments, but learned that problems are never solved through constant snot, tears and spit.
Through determination, optimism and thankfulness, even in a funk, she knows these are among the keys to being the bigger adult. It takes a mature individual to be carefree, regardless; to grow in wisdom, knowledge and understanding; to bury the past and accept the scripture that reads: To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven...
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