Music filled the rooms where I grew up, Mama’s fingers on the keys, Hymns and choirs and family singing— Melodies came easily. Somewhere in those childhood years I found a voice both strong and free; I never knew how much it mattered— Singing was just part of me. Through the years I sang with power, Held the notes and let them soar; Music gave me room to breathe in ways That nothing else could quite restore. When people said my voice was beautiful, I’d smile, but couldn’t say it too; I never learned to own the compliment— But somewhere deep, I knew. I have lived a life worth singing, Every laughter, every tear, Every road that brought me somewhere, Every soul that brought me here. There were verses I would treasure, There were ones I’d never choose, But every note became a story, And not one of them I’d lose. Then there was a little boy Who loved to sing with all his heart; Couldn’t always find the melody, But he loved to add his part. “Don’t you tell him he can’t sing— Let him love it, let him try.” And somewhere in a quiet prayer I made an offering inside: “If I could give the voice You gave me, If somehow it could become his song, I’d gladly place it in Your hands And let his voice grow strong.” Years went by—his voice grew stronger, Soon his notes began to soar; While somewhere in those very years Mine wasn’t what it was before. My breath grew shorter, notes grew harder, My range began to slip away— Then I found that long-forgotten prayer I’d written years before that day. I can’t say how Heaven answered, Or why our voices changed that way; I only know I made the offer— And I’d make it still today. And if part of what I once could sing Is singing now through someone new, Then maybe nothing has been taken— Maybe love just carried through. Still, sometimes in Sunday hymns I reach for notes that used to come; I miss the power, miss the freedom, Miss the voice I used to know. But lately I’ve discovered There’s another way a song can grow. I started telling little stories— Childhood fields and family names, People loved and lessons learned, Joy and heartache, loss and grace. And as I heard my words in music, Heard my memories given sound, Something I thought I’d lost forever Started finding me again. I have lived a life worth singing, And now my life itself can sing— Every person, every season, Every ordinary, sacred thing. The voice may not be what it once was, But the music isn’t gone; It’s in the words, it’s in the stories, It’s in every living song. I have lived a life worth singing— There are chapters still to bring. Maybe I never lost my voice at all... Maybe it just found Another way to sing. So gather up the years behind me, Let my memories take wing. This is my life. This is my story. This is a life worth singing.
