Clara was gifted with a beautiful, clear, strong soprano voice. Two months following our mother's death—as a sad and incomplete family—we commemorated Christmas one day early. Clara had to return to Montreal to continue her studies in French, preparatory to going to Africa as a missionary. So it was, that on Christmas day she and a few other nostalgic passengers found themselves travelling across Canada by train on that one day of the year that families like to be together. Though strangers to each other, and diversified in interests, they found a strange oneness as they joined their voices in singing Christmas carols, while the weary miles clicked away beneath them. Soon the voices softened, and then silenced, all but one. The singers had stopped to listen to the clear, sweet soprano voice. Clara found herself soloing on "0 Holy Night."
One man in particular, recognizing the talent, urged her to consider a career in singing. But Clara had already committed herself and her talent to the Lord. He had prior claim. She knew that this was not God's leading. She rejected the suggestion in favour of pursuing her missionary calling. That Clara's and my speaking voices were very similar had long been recognized. I knew that I could sing quite well when in a choir or in the congregation; yet, if I tried singing alone or wherever my voice might be singled out, my throat would tighten up. Stage fright would cause me to go off key, or just to produce a thin, strained note. At Prairie Bible Institute Miss K. Anderson, the voice teacher, had been the first to bring Clara to the fore when she recognized the potential in her voice. Urged to do so by Clara, and desirous myself of doing something well, I decided to take voice class lessons from Miss Anderson. The training did help, but sufficient confidence had not yet been built for me to venture to sing alone. One day, not long before Clara was to leave home to go East for further training, she encouraged me by saying, "Ev, if our speaking voices are so much alike, then our singing voices must be similar in quality as well. If I can sing, so should you be able to do so. Why do you not just go ahead and do it?" Years passed. After success in some other things eclipsed a little of my fear of failure, I began to sing. It was after I had returned home from having spent a term in mission work in India, that an old friend of Clara's encouraged me to sing a solo in church. She was the pastor's wife and pianist. That first time I relied heavily upon her strong piano accompaniment. Gradually, spurred on by her encouragement, the crippling fear was replaced by a desire to sing for the glory of God. A few years later, when I was in Guyana, South America, I was frequently asked to sing in the open-air services. I learned to do so without fear, and without accompaniment. In Guyana I was once asked to sing at a convention. I sang, "So Send I You." A local pastor was greatly moved, and recorded the song. Afterward he revealed the fact that he intended to go to the States soon for meetings. He wished to use this recording in missionary services there, wherever he would go. He replayed the tape for me to hear. Blushing with self-consciousness at first, I listened to the sound of my own voice. Was that really me? The song had been sung with great anointing. To my amazement it sounded exactly like Clara's singing. What a thrill to realize that Clara's statement of many years prior had actually been fulfilled. I did sing like my talented sister.
. . . . . .
Go to: Chapter 4
|