Singing With the Angels

     Sitting on my little porch in the early mornings, a cup of coffee in my hand, my kitty on my lap, and watching the sun peek through the trees is the best time of the day for me.  It is the time I pray to my Father God, sometimes quietly and other times in a more lively manner. Sometimes I even sing!  Me sing?  Well, yes, sorta.  I notice when I get caught up in singing "Amazing Grace"  or "This World is Not My Home", it causes my Katy Kat to unwind from her sleep, turn and look at me in an annoyed kind of way.  Her tail starts twitching, too.  Why, it almost as though she doesn't like my efforts at singing praise to the Lord!   It really doesn't bother me too much, for alas, I am used to negative reactions when I sing.
     It began when I was a little girl--maybe five or six.  I was singing a made-up song to an adorable kitten that I was playing with.  My mother stood over me and asked, "Who ever told you that you could sing?"   No encouragement there!
     When I was sixteen, I joined the Baptist church.  I also joined the choir because my best friend did.  She sang beautifully but I was put in the back where, being short, no one could see me.  That was fine because I was extremely shy.  Another odd thing was that the choir director told me to keep my voice low.   Okay, I get it--carrying a tune was not among my abilities.  My choir days were short and not-so-sweet.
     When my children were little, at last I had an appreciative audience when I sang to them the lullabies and silly dittys that a loving mother sings to her sweet babies.   As they grew, though, a funny thing happened---they would groan every time I began to sing.  Oh well, I could still sing in the shower. 
      Many years later I had a cockatiel named Koko.   She seemed to like me to sing to her.  I sang "Pretty Baby" while she cooed along with me---she couldn't carry a tune either. 
      Finally came the day my dear friend and neighbor, Patty, were asked to sing.  Actually!  The man was terminally ill with cancer.  We were visiting him and his wife, Emma, like good church ladies should do.  We hoped to at least let him know we cared and Jesus loved him.  He already knew Jesus loved him!  (If he had actually heard us singing, he would have wondered how much we cared, though.)   We gave each other an astonished look and began singing "What a Friend We Have in Jesus."  He lay in his hospital bed in a seemingly blissful state, eyes closed and a smile upon his lips.   To this day I believe he heard an angelic choir that drowned us out completely!     Why do I think that?   It could be because his wife, Emma, and her friend, Betty Jo, were almost in spasms laughing at us.   We could see them but the dear man could not.  He was so close to going home, he was already hearing the angels.   Awesome!  
      I think it was after that I began to only move my lips when they sang in church!   I was glad when my husband got saved and went to church with me, knowing if I accidentally uttered a sound, he would drown me out.
     I hope in heaven I'll actually be able to sing.   Do I dare hope?  If I can sing in heaven or not, I praise the Lord that I am His child, bought with the blood, and heaven is my home someday soon!