Good Samaritian

There's something about taking that first step in front of an audience that will send a shiver of doubt up anyone's spine, whether they're a professional musician or just another kid at a local talent show.

Even if the audience is just made up of familiar faces who will be impressed with anything that you do, like your grandparents, all at once they seem like the world's biggest critics.

I wouldn't call myself the perfect singer by any stretch of the imagination, but I would say that I'm experienced, having my share of good and bad auditions and performances. However, it seems like recently, I'm not quite as confident onstage as I was when I was little.

Maybe now that I'm a teenager I'm a little more aware of what other people will think and what they'll say if I fail. The feeling I get before I force myself onstage for an audition is terrible; suddenly the air is coming from me in short little gasps and my legs start shaking.

That was the feeling I got as I sat in church yesterday with my three friends. I had agreed to sing in a quartet at the church they attended, each of us carrying our own part as the piano accompanied us.

I was practicing and had gotten frustrated the day before, a nagging thought in the back of my mind that I would be the "reject" of the group, the one who forgot her part and stood dumbstruck in front of everyone like a deer caught in headlights.

When I'm part of the ensemble of a local theatre group's production it's not nearly as bad because I know I can have fun without being the center of attention. However, when I know that the outcome of the performance rests partially or entirely in my hands, I'm filled with incredible tension.

I couldn't hear, see, or think as the pastor spoke, having too much on my mind to concentrate. What brought me back to life was when he stepped down to the pews and a small group of children came rushing for him. I wasn't part of this religion and wasn't used to seeing the pastor interact with the churchgoers, so I watched in amusement and surprise as he taught them the story of the Good Samaritan.

What I liked was that he didn't lecture them or act superior to these young children, but instead, he played to them. Gentle laughter filled the church as he pretended that there was someone in need underneath a crumpled blanket before them, and would any of them help the poor man?

It was so sweet to see such young children learn a valuable lesson of helping one's neighbor. The lesson wrapped up with the pastor reciting a short prayer and the kids echoing him, their eyes closed and hands together.

As they had been digesting the moral of the story, I had been slowly relaxing. There was something about the pastor's clear, soft voice that soothed me as everything began to fall into perspective.

I wasn't so much older than these children, after all, but I had completely forgotten about being spoken to in that voice, the one reserved for people their age. I'm still just a kid, I suddenly reminded myself.

Why am I pressuring myself like this? What did one performance really matter, anyway, just one song? I slowly looked around at the other people in the pews, still watching with tender smiles as the children learned something very important, something that would save the world if everyone listened.

Their childlike excitement reflected in each of their eyes as they made their way back to their parents. Suddenly my worries and cares fell away as I remembered what really mattered in life: passing on life lessons to the next generation, in hopes that they will make a better attempt to live the message.

Before I knew it our names were being called and I jumped a little before making my way through the pew, now strangely alert and confident. I was in another one of my dazes as the music started and we began to sing, but this time I was not overcome with self-doubt, but the pure joy of singing.

We weren't perfect, and I know that in each of our minds we were thinking of words that we should have sang a little bit stronger, and ending consonants that could have come out a little bit clearer.

But still, I was all smiles as we returned to our seats at the end, because I knew that no matter what might have happened, my confidence would still have been fully restored.

And all thanks to a child's new understanding of the Good Samaritan.

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