This morning I am flying off to Canada to be with my own Gypsythugmom as she undergoes a double mastectomy tomorrow. My heart is both heavy and hopeful, if that is even possible.
It has been one year since I launched my blog and to commemorate, I am reposting one of your favorites from 2017. For some reason, you really enjoyed reading about me peeing on television. Ahhhhh, my lovely readers.
As I get my own heart ready to stand beside my mom on this life changing day, I want to bring both me and my lovely readers something to laugh about. I humbly submit, once again…”Peeing On The Bible Network”.
Love,
Michelle
In my years as a vocalist I have had the privilege of singing with some pretty amazing folks. I guess they didn’t fully understand the risk they were taking in hiring me, and I’m sure there will be some closed doors for future singing opportunities with amazing folks when this story is published. However, this debacle is already on television so what is there to hide?
For about five years I led worship with a team based out of Fort Worth, Texas. It was a team of humble, gifted players and singers (and me), and I still revel in how special those five years were for all of us. We led monthly nights of worship and huge yearly conferences during a really cool time in church history. TBN (which ,in our story, will stand for “The Bible Network” for the protection of the parties involved) asked if they could film one of our evening sessions at a conference.
As a vocalist and a worship leader, being filmed is always going to be weird for me. I understand the reasons why we film. I just find it really difficult not to wonder if I have a shiny booger or if my hands waving in the air are looking like a tiger leading worship (I have been confronted/mocked about this by some friends who were really looking out for me). In order to be ok with a camera I have to go to a special “it’s okay, it’s okay, this is all about Jesus” headspace and basically just ignore them. It takes extreme focus and sadly, for me, some acting.
I sang on that team with two of the loveliest ladies, Sally Sledge and Christi Bovee. They didn’t seem to be bothered by the prospect of the cameras at all. When I asked them if they were nervous about it, their response gave me the impression that they were likely waaaayyy more spiritual than I and that I could use a tad less self-focus. They were cool, calm and unaffected while I stood between them twitching and deep breathing as the music began. If I blocked the cameras out and never looked in their direction I seemed to be able to carry on as usual. My worst fear was that I would lock eyes with the camera and not be able to look away and the guys in the control room would be shouting at their screen, “creepy lady, look awaaaayyyyy”. We made it through three songs and I was kind of getting used to it!
Then things ramped up; the congregation started REALLY getting into it. They were singing really loud and “dancing”- which, in a crowd that size, means bobbing up and down and lifting your hands without clocking the guy next to you. Sally and Christi were getting into it too. They started bobbing and even moving away from me on either side so they could get some room to do the one-handed airplane (they needed the other hand for their microphones). The moment I realized they were both doing this, panic struck. What would it look like if the whole dang audience was giving their all, as well as two of the vocalists, while the one in the middle stood still and acted like she didn’t give a rip about Jesus? This was television, people. I had to dance, and I knew it.
Now, let’s talk about me and dancing. Or me and sneezing. Or me and coughing. Or me and puking. Or me and laughing too hard. Or me and driving over a speed bump. Are you getting the picture? I pee. My bladder is shot to heck and I cannot withstand any sudden jolts or shakes. I know, do Kegels. I will when my kids are full grown and I have hours on end to concentrate that hard. Public up and down dancing was, and is, out of the question. And yet here I was, about to have to bob on TV.
I started jumping. My jumps were different than Sally’s and Christi’s. Mine were more stiff with less graceful arms, like a whack-a-mole. I was five bobs in when my bladder stopped jumping with me. I was peeing. On stage. In front of two thousand people. On TV. My previous worst fear about locking eyes with the camera was suddenly trumped. Now my worst fear was the guys in the control room catching sight of a growing darkness on the lower half of my brown businessy suit and saying to each other….”is she…..oh my gosh…..camera 2 are you getting this?” My best hope was that they would think it was “the anointing” (I still don’t know what that actually means). I happened to catch Christi’s eye mid-bob and I mouthed the words, “I’m peeing” to her. She smiled back and kept airplane bobbing because she is a professional.
After what felt like four hours the song ended and it became socially acceptable for me to stand still. I could feel that my tights were soaked through. When we bowed our heads to pray I bowed mine realllllllly low to assess the situation, but could not get a fix on it. After standing stock still for the final song, I walked off the stage backwards and fled to the nearest one seater bathroom.
And in those days of miracles, I had mine. My polyester/cotton blend tights, not even built for this kind of off-roading, had absorbed probably 8 ounces of fluid and wicked it away from my pants. My tights were soggy to my knees but my nineties, wide, linen suit pants were dry as a bone. I was practically giddy as I ripped off the tights and stuffed them in the trash can. It was a TBN worship service miracle.
