What I have, I give

So, we’re at the Harlem Gospel Choir concert
The HARLEM GOSPEL CHOIR, I feel like screaming it!
Big, bold, beautiful, black women
Confidant
With bright flowers in their hair bigger than their heads
And amid the sea of waving arms
Some waving like this (big wave), some (me) waving like this (small wave)
Hallelujahs and Praise Jesus
Voices bigger than mountains

I remember being in Gospel Choir
Our director would challenge the whole choir to try
Just try
And sing louder than ONE of the African-American or African students
One of those joyful students had a voice bigger than one hundred of us

Big Voices, Beautiful, Confidant

I turn my head to see the kid in the first row balcony above me
Maybe twelve years old, pasty white
Muted, burnt orange polo shirt and unpressed khakis
Barely containing his energy
Like one of those electricity exhibits at a science musem
His gangly limbs shooting wildly in every direction
Knees bent, back arched, eyes close
Glasses sliding up his face, every particle of his being HOWLS
HALLELUJAH!
There is nothing left- total abandon

I can watch the choir, I can enjoy the show
I am lifted by how they seem to pour themselves out
In volume, in long, soulful praise
I can almost join in
I am convicted (for a moment) at how much I hold back
But I can separate myself from them, we have
A different upbringing, a different culture, a different voice
A different skin color
Surely they are more qualified, more capable
To worship this way- to pour themselves out
I can separate myself from THE HARLEM GOSPEL CHOIR

But this kid… this kid gets to me
We are the same
I imagine that next year, he will have braces
And that when there is a snow day,
He begs his dad –not to take him sledding-
But to take him to a museum
-just like I did-
Gangly and awkward, out of step, out of tune
In an entire auditorium of rhythm,
He claps to his own beat WITH EVERYTHING HE HAS
We are the same
In so many ways, I see myself in this kid
With one difference- I HOLD BACK

It all hits home- What I have, I give
Give all that I have

At the end of the concert, they call for dancers
Not dancers planted in the audience
Dancers- anyone who wants to dance
I look to my roommate and say, “He’s coming! The kid is coming!”
I watch him sprint from the balcony to the stage
He shakes and flails and bends- SHAMELESS
And I AM SO PROUD OF HIM
Everything he has
EVERYTHING
And we pray in the parking lot- that he never loses it
And I pray, I pray that I can find it.