Singing with my Feet

I have been singing with the same group of people for ten years now. There has been a recurring joke over these last ten years that I sing with my feet.

I rather like this expression, because as a youngster, while I enjoyed very much doing musical theater, I was not terribly talented in the dance department. Sure, I could learn one single tap step to get me through playing Kathy Selden, or one little softshoe for Eliza Doolittle. I could fake it because I sang well enough to pull the wool over Mr. Sillers’ eyes.

Long story longer. Our church has a genuinely top-notch group of musicians, among whom I am proud to numbered. After the first time I got up to sing with them ten years ago, our lead pastor made the joke, to all 2500 parishoners and 8000 people across the world who watch our service online and said, “Well, now we know what it looks like for someone to sing with their feet.”

I apparently sing with my hair as well.

I hear the same joke from someone almost every week. Now, let’s be honest. Many church songs talk about dancing but most people just stand there. I don’t just stand there. I stomp my feet. I direct the band with all kinds of understandable gestures, but my feet are what set the tone.

Enter yesterday, when I was wearing those beauties up top, my El Naturalista boots. My recycled rubber soled, handcrafted in Spain. Oh, how I love those shoes.

Well, guess what. The heel of my El Naturalista handcrafted, recycled rubber soled boot flew off of my shoe and across the stage and I still had an hour to go.

Needless to say, when I go pick up the Elf Boots, I will be exchanging them for my other favorite shoes. For all the money I was supposed to be saving by not buying any clothes this year, I do seem to be spending a fortune at the shoe repair shop…

Published by Lily Fields

I am passionate about contentment. This is a challenge, because I am equally passionate about progress. I get up at 4:00AM to chip away at a solution to this monolithic problem: how to make progress on my contentment. Born and raised in the USA, I married a French philosophy teacher in 1999. We have lived in France since 2007. We stayed young and carefree until life threw us two curveballs in the form of little humans one after another in 2015 and 2017 respectively. Now I am a slightly older, slightly more exhausted version of myself, but with mystery stains on my walls and a never-ending pile of laundry.

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