Anyone who knows my husband, likely knows he has a beautiful voice. I think it may have been while he was singing a Billy Joel song accompanied by his best friend, Bill Kelly that I knew that I was in love with him. He has sung in divers places from professionally in clubs, to the jail band as well as the choir there. He can sing an Elvis song like nobody’s business and I feel like my voice is prettier when we sing hymns together in church. As accomplished as he is, he once told me that he can have a crowd full of admirers and still have just one person mention a perceived missed note to ruin an entire performance.
Today I had news of a personal detractor spreading what I can only believe were untruths about me. I say it in this way because I don’t know exactly what was said, only that “That woman” meaning me, “is not welcome in my home.” This is surprisingly disturbing to me, since I’ve never actually been invited to her home to begin with. But still.
In my perfect land, I would call both the spreader of ugliness as well as the receiver and we would talk, there would be a few tense moments, I would see where I could have done some things better, and explain what I felt the misunderstanding was. Perhaps we would tear up. If it were all in person, at the end of the discussion, we would all hug and leave the situation richer people, if not friends.
This can never be. It has been my sad experience that in situations with certain people at certain times, attempts for greater understanding easily slip into name calling and arrow shooting. As my astute brother-in-law says “Crazy is never defeated.”
I have many people in my life who are loving and supportive. I feel blessed, and humbled to be surrounded by mentors and nurturing people. My life is rich and full. My family is a great support to me and every morning I wake up feeling like the luckiest woman in the world. But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t get under my skin when someone goes about telling people my notes are flat.
If only there had been a sign.