4084
Pt. 1
It was May of 2018, and my wife and I were vacationing in Ireland, Northern Ireland, and Scotland.
Strangely enough, our two week tour happened to include so many of the locations where my own immigrate ancestors once lived. Of course, I was thrilled to walk where they once walked, and see the mountains, rivers and forests which they once saw and enjoyed. While we were there, I kept a daily journal which I titled, "Returning in their Place." (Of course, the impetus for the title was the realization that few if any of my "great great's" ever found a way to return to the countries they left behind.
Not long after our arrival in Dublin, we visited an old Irish farmhouse in Killarney where we enjoyed a nice meal, and where my wife suggested I "sing a song for my supper;" as it were. And since so much like my ancestors, I doubted I would ever return again, I proceeded to sing an acapella version of "Amazing Grace." (And I think I did a tolerably good job of it).
Afterwards, one of the guys in our tour group told me my song was the biggest surprise he'd experienced thus far in the tour; perhaps because I am, by nature, somewhat of an introvert. (It was such a joy to sing The Hymn of the Christian Church that close to where it was written).
Having completed our tour of Ireland and Northern Ireland, we boarded a ferry and sailed across the Irish Sea to Scotland. And while I loved Ireland and Northern Ireland, my heart has always been in Scotland since I have such a human heritage there; more so than in the countries we had previously visited on our trip.
It was wonderful to experience eerily beautiful Glencoe, site of the massacre of the MacDonald's, and Edinburgh, from whence one of my ancient grandfathers was forcibly removed by the British, (and made his new home in Connecticut). And I will never forget the Isle of Skye where my 3x great Grandmother was born, and resided, 'til she moved to this great country, and settled in Georgia.
Pt. 2
I can tell you it felt like "Old Home Week." So much so that I asked our tour guide if I could sing a tribute in memory of my dearly departed ancestors. (As it fell together, I should have "left well enough alone"). Well, Deanne put me off a couple of times, as she wasn't keen on me standing in the aisle of the bus while it was moving. However, after we rolled across the bridge which separates the Isle of Skye from the Scottish mainland, she gave me the go ahead.
"Listen everyone, Bill wants to sing another song for us. Do your stuff, Bill."
And while we were in Scotland by this time, I had chosen to sing "Danny Boy." (There is some disagreement about where it was written, but it is generally thought the author was an Englishman). At any rate, the song commemorates the love of an Irish mother for her military son who has gone off to war, and her expectation that she will pass from this life before he returns.
I thanked Deanne, I rose to sing, and took my place in the middle of the aisle. And just as she had done in Killarney, my wife aimed her smart phone at me and began videoing.
I began to sing, and I was moderately happy with the way things were proceeding.
"Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side.
The summer's gone, and all the roses falling,
It's you, it's you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow,
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow..."
And now I felt "it" coming, and "it" wasn't a good "it." There was no way I would be able to hit the highest note in the song.
"It's I'll be... there" (screech)
I had failed to begin my song on a key in which I could compensate for the "there" word. It was awful. I had little or no choice but to finish the song. I sang the last two lines of the first verse, and skipped the second verse entirely.
"in sunshine or in shadow
Oh, Danny boy, Oh Danny boy, I love you so!"
And while five years have come and gone, I have never had the heart to watch the video of my debacle of a song. But I have little doubt my face was beet red, as I made my way back to my seat, and sat down. (Funny how people are prone to remember one mistake, and how it negates everything good which preceded it).
Afterward
I think God rejoices when His children exercise the talents which He has instilled within them; even when they make a few mistakes and experience a few mishaps along the way. And I think He probably laughs with us when we make the kind of mistakes I have recounted here; just doing what we were designed to do.
But, dear readers, I can tell you, if He laughed that day, He laughed first, and probably last; since I am yet to find any humor in the experience which I have shared with you.
by Bill McDonald, PhD
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