After leading a phenomenal worship service at church yesterday (Thank you, Jesus for gracing Your church with a glimpse of Your glory and a touch from heaven. I'm forever grateful), I returned home with a sore throat and a morphing-to-Darth-Vader-like voice.
This morning, the sore and pain are still around, but I wouldn't have had it any other way.
I have learned a long time ago that I am no good at doing things in a half-baked manner. It's either I give everything or I don't give at all. If that means that I have to be more disciplined in doing vocal warm-ups, then so be it; but I made a choice to never stop declaring His praises at the top of my voice till my very last breath and I intend to keep to it.
So today, while I was letting my mug of lemon tea (with a generous dollop of honey) steep, I'm embracing my hurting throat proudly, as if it was a badge of honour…
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