Never Keep From Singing

In my two mile trek from the train station to the office today, I sang as I walked.  Usually I sing rather subdued, under my breath, so as not to bother any one, but today I sang loudly.  I found myself hushing a bit as I neared other people, until I thought to myself “Why?!”  It may look a bit strange, I admit, but the sight of someone singing to themselves almost always yields a smile, and moreover…I felt like singing loudly.

So I did. 

This small wave of determination brought to mind a memory that I hadn’t thought about for years.  It was similar to the above story, only instead of a city backdrop during the day, I was on the beach in Namibia and it was night.  My friends and I had gone to the beach with our guitars to sing loudly.  Taking advantage of the Ocean’s white noise, the open air granted us both shelter from the noise from which we came, and accompaniment to the noise we were about to create.  We were also far enough away from town, so as not to bother anyone.  Smiling at each other, satisfied with the perfect niche we had found, we pointed our faces to the sea and sang loudly.

Our jubilation lasted for roughly an hour or three, increasing in intensity as our guards gave way to rising confidence and the urge to sing, until we were suddenly interrupted.  Approaching us in the dark was a timid and beautiful young couple, smiling as they greeted us.  The woman held on shyly, with excited eyes, to her husband, while he shared with us that they had been listening to our music from further down the beach. 

“Oops!,” I thought to myself, “I guess we didn’t move far enough down the beach…” but he quickly negated my worry.  “It was beautiful,” he said, with that simple directness that is so delightfully Namibian.  He went on to explain that they had just gotten married, and that they would love for us to play a song for them.  After a few glances of disbelief, honor, and excitement, my friends and I happily conceded.

As I started strumming, I remember watching their faces.  I expected them to sit, or get comfortable, or –I don’t know- but I remember being struck by how they just stood their holding each other, standing tall and smiling so brightly.  They were poised as if they were about to receive some sort of honor, which, in turn, made me feel honored.  I was no longer timid about singing too loudly, so with pleasure, I sang with all my might.  They were so very grateful.

And, so was I. 

That whole story came back to me this morning, Finding-Nemo-Style, as I passed by the landscapers, singing contently to myself.  Recalling that story warmed my heart and it unfurled a wonderful lesson within me, which I now share with you:

Never keep from singing;

You never know what celebration might be awaiting your voice.