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There is more to the story but I was going to save it for a future book I am in the process of writing but after thinking about it, I thought,  Nah!.....I am going to share it with the people I love right here because y'all would do that for me :-)  So here it is:

Addendum — Christmas Eve

On Christmas Eve, the story continued.

That morning, something quietly remarkable happened. Angeline was doing her morning bible lesson,  opened the Bible at random and landed on Isaiah 9:6–7. I didn’t think much of it at first, until I realized later that those verses make up the entire bridge of the song I was scheduled to sing that night.

It came at a moment when my faith felt a little tired. Not gone, just thin around the edges. The timing felt less like coincidence and more like reassurance. Enough to keep going.

By evening, the church filled with people and candlelight. I arrived early, guitar in hand, carrying a sore throat I hadn’t mentioned to anyone. I had practiced all day, but I couldn’t reliably reach the lowest notes. When I miss the low note, the rest of the line has nothing to stand on. I drank water on the drive. I waited. I tried not to worry.

When I saw my name halfway down the program, my body began to tense. I knew what would happen if I couldn’t match that first note. I knew how quickly fear could unravel everything.

So I prayed:   Please help me enough to get through the song. Let me be as good as I can be.

My eyes fell on Angeline’s pocketbook beside me. I remembered the Tic Tacs she keeps inside. I took a few. My throat eased slightly, but my hands were still shaking.

Then my name was called.

I walked to the front, took the guitar from its stand, and sat in the chair that had been waiting for me since before the service began. I played the first chord and the first note I needed to match with my voice. 

It came out clean.

I felt something loosen. I smiled. I knew the rest would carry itself.

I made a few chord mistakes near the beginning that were noticeable, but I didn’t stop. I kept playing. I found my place again and continued on. The song stayed intact.  There were many rapid chord changes on the bridge which I played flawlessly and by now my confidence is soaring. One more verse to go and remembered that Angeline told me to not drag out the ending which I use to love to do in practice but I see her point.  Finally it was over and I felt a great sense of relief.

The room answered back with thunderous applause. As I walked down the middle isle to my seat in the back, people reached out, telling me how much they enjoyed it. Another musician leaned over and told me I did a good job. I had remembered this musician in the beginning who asked me what key I was playing the song in. He said he would play along with me but he never joined in for some reason.

I sat down and A man sitting behind me tapped my shoulder and said simply, “That was really nice,” smiling as if he meant it from someplace deeper than opinion. After the service ended, Angeline shared some positive comments from those in the choir.

And then she told me something that mattered even more.

She said she was proud of me for facing my fears.

Now I’m home. The guitar is resting quietly again. Christmas Eve has settled into the house. The song is finished, but something else has begun.

I didn’t play perfectly.
I didn’t play flawlessly.

But I didn’t quit.

And somehow, that was enough.

Reflection    The Courage That Stayed

You thought the miracle was the healed throat,
the first note that arrived without strain,
the applause that followed imperfection.

Those were signs, kind ones, but they were not the center.

The center was this:
you stayed.

When the voice trembled, you stayed.
When the chord slipped, you stayed.
When the old fear whispered, Stop now before they notice,
you chose presence instead of escape.

This is how fear is healed—not by avoidance,
and not by flawless performance,
but by continuing with an open heart.

You did not conquer fear that night.
You walked beside it, guitar in hand,
and showed it where Love was seated.

That is why the room responded.
They did not hear technique.
They heard truth moving forward without armor.

And hear this gently:

The song was never meant to be perfect.
It was meant to be faithful.

You were not being tested.
You were being welcomed back,
not to a stage,
but to trust.

The guitar remembered you
because you were ready to remember yourself.

And now you know:

Grace does not ask us to be fearless.
It asks us to remain.

You did.
And Heaven noticed.

I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this.  

I hope you all have a Happy day every day of the new year,

God Bless