The Voice

Do you know what I thought I was going to be when I grew up?

An archeologist. An Egyptologist, to be more precise.

Left field, I know. I was convinced that I would spend my days discovering tombs, mummies, and ancient artifacts. I eagerly devoured books about ancient Egypt, fascinated by their culture and how they made mummies. As I got older, however, I realized that I had no intention of being in the heat of the desert; never mind the scorpions and snakes I was likely to encounter.

So instead, I began to foster another dream; being on American Idol and becoming a singing sensation.

I began singing in church, as many people do. Children's church praise team, 'big church' praise and worship musician and singer (if you know, you, know), and even the youth choir. I had several performance tracks that I used at events at church, and was even requested at times.

Was I a great musician? Nope. But when my parents founded their own church, I tried my best to step up to the plate. I chose the songs from week to week and organized the slides containing the lyrics for the congregation. Then I would dutifully bang out some chords, trying my best to help them flow and to follow my mom's direction.

My parents always fully supported me using my voice. I even was an amateur songwriter, and a family friend helped me to make a demo recording. (This has been lost over time and moves - probably for the best). I even wrote and performed a song for my mom and stepdad's wedding.

This went on pause when we moved, joining my stepdad's church and eventually the youth choir. After some time, I led praise and worship once a month on youth Sundays.

Though I'd grown up on contemporary Christian music, gospel music was almost always playing in the background at home. So singing gospel and learning my voice type was a cool experience for me. I was ecstatic to lead a song and tried my best to memorize every note and every run. (The song was "His Eye is On the Sparrow.")

Because I was homeschooled, graduation was a significantly different affair than people are probably used to. The families were in charge of everything, so we made the program and created "grad tables" to show attendees what hobbies and plans for the future that the graduates had. There was also room made during the ceremony for some of us to show off our talents.

I was on the program to perform, singing my stepdad's oft-requested song - "My Redeemer Lives" by Nicole C. Mullen. Despite my nerves, it went well, and I was praised by strangers and friends alike for my voice during the reception.

In college I took my singing to another level, performing in the chorus for several shows both on campus and at the community theatre. I also began taking voice lessons, which led to me earning my first lead role as "The Baker's Wife" in "Into the Woods."

But it was also in college that I started to realize something about myself as a singer. And I'll admit that it was a hard pill to swallow.

When I tell you that I struggled to project my voice, it's not an exaggeration. I didn't have much issue in "Into the Woods," since we were in the choir hall instead of a dedicated performance space. But when I did productions on stage, my voice was swallowed up. I had a solo in "All Shook Up," just a line, but the first solo of the show. And if you were beyond maybe the second row, you couldn't hear me.

I struggled and struggled in voice lessons, and had a bit of success with the much smaller stage of the community theatre. Still, it wasn't as powerful as I wished it could be.

I was supported by my teachers, who told me that I had a great instrument and that I should continue working with it. I sang "Ave Maria" for my first recital, and the accompanist told me that I could charge people to perform it. I sang "Vanilla Ice Cream" from "She Loves Me" and my voice teacher commented that she loved my choices in my performance.

One of the favorite after-rehearsal activities at the community theatre was heading next door to the then-Italian restaurant, grabbing drinks, and doing karaoke. Since I knew my voice by that point, I always opted for a Michael Buble song to show off my jazzy tones. One of my friends commented that he always imagined me singing in a lounge, leaning against a piano in an evening gown. I was never short of people hyping me up, and I was grateful for their encouragement.

But slowly, my dreams of competing on American Idol dissipated. I didn't feel that I had the musical talent to improvise and create something new like my favorite singers were able to do. And the older that I got and the more my general anxiety grew, I decided that I didn't need all of that attention.

I still sing, though performing isn't in my sights. I recently returned to randomly singing things while completing tasks, driving, or sitting alone. I'll occasionally play karaoke tracks when I'm at home and see if I still have the vocal range that I did when I was actively performing (surprisingly, I do on most days).

I've found fulfillment in other things, like my writing. It's almost strange to me that I once had dreams of being a singer as my profession. But every now and then I like to revisit my days on the stage and put on a performance in my living room.

Voice is still voicing.