I know when I’m being inspired to do something. I know when the Lord is pushing me to be better. I know, because I’m scared.
I felt Him give me courage while lying on a cement floor, in an Indian Hostel, singing to a group of young girls who don’t go home to their Mothers at night. They snuggled around me on the cool floor with nothing but a thin mat to sleep on saying “Sing to us, Auntie!”
I am NOT a singer. I rarely sing to my own kids. This was not a natural thing for me to do, but I knew I couldn’t say no. Trying to conceal my dread I began singing the only song I could think of: “I am a child of God.”
No one made a sound. Instead, I felt a few of them move closer to me. I was their Mother in this moment. My voice wasn’t beautiful, but something beautiful happened in that humble room. As I sang of being a Child of God I realized I was bearing testimony to some of them who may not know of a Heavenly Father.
When the song was over a sleepy voice said: “I’ve heard that one before. Sing it again, Auntie?”
So, I sang it again and again and the Spirit filled the room as I lost them to sleep, one by one.
Five years later I got a letter from one of the girls in that room. “I remember that night you sang to us,” she wrote. “I will always remember that night.”
I’m positive it wasn’t my singing that made an impression. It was the Spirit of Christ that filled the empty room and perhaps some hollow spots in her heart.
I’m so glad I had the courage to serve others when I feared to do so. For I realize now that being uncomfortable then meant being a tool in the hands of a Savior who both loves the orphan and also allows us to feel His love for them too.
