Jesus Take the wheel

    I wiggled and pulled to get the dress to fit. But as I looked at myself in the mirror I was proud and scared. The black and white floral dress with the halter top that tied behind my neck finally fit. I hoped the postpartum tummy I tried to slim with four months of rigorous exercise was camouflaged by the ruffles.

"Perfect," I said trying to convince myself that I was ready.

     A few months earlier I had auditioned for the Cedar Valley's American Idol, a fundraiser a local charity was putting on. I had been nervous. I was 28 years-old and self conscious about my age, was I too old? I hadn't sung solo for a few years and I had just had my third child, besides I didn't know any normal songs. I had been singing strictly for the worship team at our small church in Elk Run Heights, Iowa.

    I decided to work on Jesus Take the Wheel, by Carrie Underwood. For two months I sang to my reflection in the purple sun room at every nap time and in the evenings when I had all three little ones in bed. It was in the mirror as I failed to hit the highest note, for the tenth time, that I heard it again. You're not good enough. Whether it was the devil or my inner critic or a combination of them both I will never know. But this Postpartum mommy had something to prove to herself.

     It had been five years since I graduated from college. My only source of income was a handful of voice lessons I reluctantly gave. I was full of doubt in those days. I questioned if I was worthy of teaching anyone how to sing. I wondered if I had been wrong about my own voice. At church I sang back up and I struggled to read music. The old self doubt rumbled through my soul whispering, Is that all you got? None the less, when I heard about the contest I signed up to audition.

      The auditions were held at the same Holiday Inn we had our wedding reception at some 8 years before. I couldn't breathe or think as I waited in the lobby with other hopefuls.

      "Dianne Singleton," a young lady in black jeans and too much eyeliner called out.

     I followed her to a conference room, there three judges sat in padded chairs with note books open and the video camera rolling. Taking a deep breath I introduced myself and the song I would be singing.  His Eye is on the Sparrow reverberated off the walls. This was the one song I was confident I wouldn't mess up even under pressure.

     A few days later I was notified that I was accepted as one of the 10 finalists.  Over the next month I met with a voice coach. I hadn't met with a coach for years and I felt vulnerable. I could understand why my voice students were so shy for the first few sessions, I felt their pain. But she was kind as she encouraged me not to hold back.

   Its hard to sing out, to be seen, when you don't like the girl you see in the mirror. So I practiced more, and I talked back to the accuser in my head. "Dianne you can do this!"

    Finally the night came, I had my song rehearsed and I was ready to go. I remember waiting back stage with the rest of the competitors. One singer dressed in a white suit performed while playing piano. He was so smooth he even worked in some dance steps.  Another contestant had a strong bluesy voice that would have reviled Aretha Franklin. Intimidated butterflies filled my stomach as I questioned why I was doing this at all. There was really only one older gal dressed in blue jeans with big hair, who sang country that I knew that I could beat.

    But then my name was called. I stood behind the curtain in the darkness with the microphone. I could see the country singer just finishing her number cascaded in the pink and purple lights. I could hear the roar of the audience after her last note. As I waited, I felt the surge of raw nerves and the cool sensation of perspiration.

     It is in that moment that something in me becomes brave. It might be that I was the third child of four and I rarely got the center of attention. But somehow under the spot light I grow stronger. I whispered to my soul, "Come on Dianne, you've done the practice now sing it with all your heart."

      The music track started and I walked out. The lights hid the faces from me as I began to sing. My right knee was shaking but I tried to keep my mouth from quivering. "Jesus Take the wheel..." I sang and got through all the high parts. I moved carefully locked up with fear. I tried to open my heart as I sang and drowned out the ugly accuser as even under the hot lights he tried to whisper, Unworthy.

    In the struggle of nerves I felt the kindness of God helping me out of my fear. Jesus take the wheel cause I can't make it on my own. The lyric became my prayer as I looked out into the shadowy auditorium. "God I give you my voice and may it be used to heal, to help, and to bring hope." Emotion burned from my heart up through my throat and glistened in my eyes as I finished the song. The crowd clapped and cheered, but it was the applause of heaven that made me feel like I had won.

    I didn't win the contest, the Country singer beat all of us. I felt frustrated that I had wasted my time, but God has a way of getting his message to us. The following Sunday I was at church when a friend came up to me. She waited as I shook several peoples hands before telling me her little story.

"Dianne, I was shopping in the Cedar Falls HyVee grocery store, a few days ago. I am not sure why I was even there. Anyway, I was walking down the baking aisle when I heard two ladies talking.

One said,  "I can't believe she didn't win."

The others said, "I know, when I heard her sing Jesus Take the Wheel I felt moved, like there was some kind of power coming off the stage."

The other chimed in, "I had goosebumps."

      I looked at my friend. She was excited to share what she over heard, but what she didn't know is that I had prayed, Lord, please move through my voice to people's hearts. I don't care if I win. And what I didn't realize is that I forgot that little prayer, but God did not and in his kindness decided to remind me about my true victory.

    It turned out that I did care if I won, but when my friend told me the grocery store story I felt pleased. God had answered my prayer. He had taken the wheel.

     That contest had helped me to take my voice seriously again. I learned that God wasn't finished with me yet. That little over heard story encouraged me when the ugly doubts tried to steal my triumph. To this day, I hold onto that lesson every time I open my mouth to sing.
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Jesus, please take the Wheel.