My sister,
G.J., is my polar opposite, and that is a good thing. Opposites cannot exist without each
other. We work as background for each
other. And we are better because of it. Throughout my life, G.J. has had my
back, even when we were asked to sing in church.
I love
singing. I love performing. I love being the center of attention. I love being
indoors. G.J. does not love singing, she’s rather be gardening. G.J. does not
love performing, she’d rather be behind the scenes. G.J. loves the outdoors.
As children,
G.J. and I often were asked to sing in sacrament meeting. One year, in July, my
sister and I were asked to sing for Pioneer Day. Grandma T. made us beautiful
purple and white dresses with bonnets for the occasion. I gracefully climbed
the stairs to the front of the chapel to sing. G.J. nearly ran to the podium.
We sang “Pioneer Children Sang as They Walked, and Walked, and Walked, and
Walked.” The congregation smiled up at us, and I knew we were the stars of the
“show!” After the last ‘walked,’ I
elegantly began the retreat back to sit with my parents. G.J. took one look at
the walk around the short wall dividing us from the congregation and leaped
over the divider with all the agility of a gazelle. No one remembered our
beautiful singing. No one remembered our precious outfits. Everyone laughed at
G.J.’s audacity to high jump in the middle of sacrament meeting.
Apparently,
our friends and family did not learn their lesson from that experience, because
10 years later, we were asked to sing for our best friend’s mission farewell. I
chose a beautiful song called, “Oh, That I Were an Angel.” The message was
perfect for a future missionary. G.J. trusted my judgement, because I was a
musician. We practiced. We were ready. We smiled at Damon as we went to the
podium to sing. The first part of the song was perfect. I felt that angels were
singing with us, as we declared that we wanted to share the gospel. BUT then
G.J. started laughing. Apparently, she freaked out over the high D in the song.
(Which wasn’t really that high.) She continued to laugh, and her laugh was
contagious. I began to laugh too. We tried to pull it together. We couldn’t. We
didn’t finish. I slunk off the stage completely humiliated. G.J. continued to
guffaw when we got to our seats. It was after the meeting that I learned how
different we were. Everyone came up to G.J. sympathetically and expressed how proud
they were of her bravery in singing. Then they would turn to me. “How could you
not hold it together?” they would ask. “You’re a musician,” they accused. I was
so embarrassed.
Yes, G.J.
and I are opposites. And often that is a good thing. I still sing and love the
spotlight. G.J. still plays sports and loves being an introvert. I believe that
opposites are not contradictory, but complimentary… except when singing in
public.
At least
that’s the way I remember it.
