I can still hear his melodic voice and smell the scent of smoke and sweat, intermingled, in the thick, hot air. He had an amazing musical talent. He could sing and play guitar wooing most crowds. People danced, clapped, and sometimes stumbled outside to light one up at the end of "You Look Wonderful Tonight." He exercised his gift in a variety of places. In his small beginnings, he performed in darker places like bars and nightclubs...places not suitable for a little girl. He played wherever he was asked to play, because he loved music. Sometimes, he loved it too much.
But when my brother and I started growing up, he wanted to play in places where we could go, too. Like all parents, he had the realization that time was precious and limited. And I'm pretty sure my Momma had something to do with his decision to take it down a notch. So he started playing at community centers, fire halls, and schools. He tried to keep his gigs more family friendly. Occasionally, he still played music in a place not appropriate for kids, but those places became less frequent events on his calendar.
I remember dancing until my feet hurt. I remember being a ball of nerves as he called me on stage to sing a solo. I remember stretching out and falling asleep across a couple of metal fold out chairs. The steady beat of the drums would lull me into a restless slumber.
I remember when he was asked to lead worship in church on many occasions. He was encouraged to use his gift "for the Lord." But he never felt comfortable doing so, and I never understood why until I got a little older and wiser. I remember always wanting to see him on the platform picking the old hymns we would sing. But he wouldn't agree to do it.
I still don't know exactly why he didn't ever officially make the switch to sing gospel over old country and rock and roll, but I have my guesses. You see, my Daddy wasn't a hypocrite. He knew he had struggles, like we all do, and he didn't want to stand in front of a congregation pretending to be something or someone he was not. At that point in his life, he had not completely surrendered to God. He believed a lie of the enemy in thinking he had to be perfect to be good. When I was kid, I remember feeling like he was being selfish for not singing in church. Looking back, the level of self-righteousness I clung to is embarrassing. And the level of unseen integrity he had for making the decision to stay behind the scenes until he could be true to the Lord is inspirational.
Fast forward many years later, and you'll see that my Daddy gave his whole heart to His Father, the one who gave him his gift. He traded in a smoky bar for a heavenly realm. And I know with all my heart that he is finally singing in "church" in the sweet by and by. And one day, I'll sing with him again, too.
