Risktaker

I’d always played things safe. Until I hit my fifties

- Dennis McNicholas

Three hundred pairs of eyes watched me expectantly. I stood in the sanctuary next to the piano, trying not to hyperventilate. I was about to lead the congregation in singing a Psalm.

No one was forcing me to do this. And was it really such a big deal, singing in front of people I’d gone to church with for years?

For me it was. I’d been terrified of singing in public for as long as I could remember. I was fine mumbling hymns in the anonymity of the pews or hiding in the adult choir. But singing solo in front of a large group seemed like asking for humiliation.

So why had I volunteered to lead the Psalm this Sunday morning? Why had I spent months working with a voice coach to prepare for just this moment?

Well, I’d done a lot of things recently that once intimidated me. Like learning to swim when I was 58 and completing multiple triathlons. I was also writing my first book.

There was a reason I kept facing this fear. His name was Jack. As I stood before the congregation, he was at home with his mom and dad. He was almost two years old. My grandson. And he’d inspired a big change in my life.

I was not raised to be a risk-taker. I grew up in a traditional family. Church every Sunday. Best behavior at the dinner table. Don’t step out of line. Don’t be different.

That was my dad’s approach to life. He was just six years old when his own father died. The loss deprived him of the confidence a father can help instill in his children. After high school, he attended seminary for several years. Then he got a job selling appliances on commission at a Sears store. He kept that job for 22 years.