A Song Within Them

In the weeks prior to our scheduled get together, he asked me several times if that day and time were still good for me. I quickly realized that it was very important for him to see me that night. I assured and reassured him that I'd be there.

I liked him a lot. He was a joy to be with. I always felt comfortable with him; conversations with him were easy and fun. He was my friend. I was looking forward to our evening together. And, I was definitely curious about what he might want to talk about. 

Within moments of sitting down and ordering drinks in the hotel lounge where he suggested we meet, the reason for the conversation became clear:

I’m trying to figure out how to tell my parents that I am gay.

There it was. He was not only asking me how to tell his parents this vital news, but he was also, in that declaration, telling me the news, as well. 

I was the first person he would come out to. 

It was a sacred moment for me. I hope it was for him.  Being invited into another’s deepest and most private secret. Being able to feel safe to tell someone your deepest and most private secret. 

I felt an immediate and profound feeling of honor to be trusted enough to hold this intimate news for and with him. I also felt an immediate sadness that it was news he feared to tell his parents. I felt frustrated that it was news that he and so many others kept bottled within them because of cultural, religious, and historic prejudices and homophobic beliefs that have kept so many people from being fully themselves in this life. I felt an immediate respect and a deeper connection with him for the courage it took to tell me his innate truth. I wanted him to know that, and I thanked him for trusting me with such personal news. 

In the nearly 20 years since that night, he no longer needs to hide this news. His parents embraced his news when he told them. So many others did too. I will always remember the privilege I felt, to be trusted by him to be a safe person to first hear his story. 

His story and being that trusted person was a forerunner to the creation of Someone To Tell it To. 

Hearing others’ stories, especially the ones they are often fearful of telling, is a foundational value of ours. That others approach us because they believe that we will respect their stories, that we will not shy away from their stories, that we will not condemn them for their stories, that we will not break confidence with their stories, and that we will not use their stories against them, is what allows people to tell us their stories and to know that we hold those stories as sacred for them.

Fear of judgment and condemnation, fear of alienation and rejection, fear of not being accepted and loved too often keeps us from telling our stories. Too often, it keeps us from being who we truly have been created to be.

I heard recently a quote from an unnamed person who has said that:

Too many people die with a song still within them.

Songs that have never been sung. Things that have never been told. Truths that have never been shared. Gifts that have never been given. Insights that have never been revealed. Goodness that has never been accepted. Love that has never been expressed. 

There is nothing worse than someone dying after living an unfulfilled life, a lonely life, an incomplete life, a rejected life, an unappreciated and undervalued life. 

We all have songs within us. The world needs all of our songs. We all deserve to sing those songs for the delight of those who need to hear them.

There is a richness to the beautiful melodies and harmonies, the powerful arias and hymns, and the evocative lyrics of wonder and love that we all have within us to sing. 

Too often we fear to sing the songs that lie deeply within us. Judgment looms too large. 

To enable us to know the grace and gift that is this life we share.

To inspire in us to be our better angels that we have been created to be.

To touch our spirits and our souls with the overwhelming power of love that can set this world free to be what it is meant to be.

What songs have you yet to sing? What songs are deep within you that you wish you had the courage to sing and the safety to genuinely and confidently sing them? Who do you trust who could listen to your songs and hold them and respect them for you? 

Your songs of joy? Your songs of hope? Your songs of love?

Your songs that make this world and the life we all share in together a more beautiful, embracing, and peaceful place?