Soloist

It was almost hard to bear. Watching him walk across the stage. She knew how shy he was; knew what he thought before every show.

"I can't believe I'm doing this to myself." He told her in a shaky whisper. He was gripping her arms to hold himself steady.

"Just focus on what you're doing. Focus on the songs!" She tried to reassure him, and he seemed to look a little better until a huge roar from the crowd echoed through the side stage. He paled significantly, his eyes widening like a deer staring into headlights.

He began to mutter nonsense to himself, shaking and pacing. She watched him with attentive eyes in case he should bold. But she knew he was stronger than that. "I can't believe this." He turned on the spot, staring at her. "How am I even here!"

"Because you," she walked up to him, reaching forward with her hand and holding the side of his strong face. "You have walked through so many trials. Aspergers, insomnia. Hey. Look at me." She whispered softly, and his eyes slowly slid up to hers. "Through those things and more, look at where you are. Look at the things you've accomplished."

The crowd echoed again, and she smiled. "Listen to that. And you sell me you haven't done anything to deserve this. They are here for you, because of you. I've seen the sites and what people post. You have changed their lives with your music and love for God." A single tear slid down his face, and he was biting his cheek.

"I don't understand . . . I'm just a normal guy!" He spluttered feebly. But she gazed at him with such compassion.

"Yes, you are. But in that, you are also extraordinary." She passed her thumb over his cheek, wiping away his tear, and moved to embrace him. They stood like that for many moments.

"Oi! Five minutes!" A man called, and they broke apart. He was still shaking, but she could tell he looked better.

"You can do this." He gave a small nod, and she drew close, kissing him softly on his cheek. She turned and walked off to the seating in the crowd as he turned a lovely shade of red.

He cleared his throat and with shaking hands, straightened his tie and adjusted his vest. He thought one of his sneakers felt loose, so he bent down to tighten it. But as he knelt, he bowed his head quietly. Oh Father. I know I have absolutely no strength to do this on my own. Please, take hold of me as I walk on stage. I've never done this before. This is such a huge leap . . . Just . . . help me to glorify You in all of this.

He heaved a sigh and straightened. "You ready?" The same man who told him five minutes asked him.

He raised an eyebrow at the man and let out a short sarcastic laugh. "I'm never ready. But I'm gonna do this." He was facing the stage now, The other few members of his small band were already on stage, and the people in the crowd were shouting and yelling.

It took everything he had to not turn and run as the lights went completely out, and the sound of chirping crickets resounded through the theatre. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a step, then another, and another. He peeked open his eyes, but it was still dark.

The microphone was only a little bit away, and his trusty electric guitar was on a stand right next to it. The crowd literally roared as they saw him despite the darkness. He could feel her gaze on him, and his heart steadied a few beats. A smile even found its way onto his face.

He strapped on his guitar quickly, and gripped the microphone, tapping his foot to the beat of the drum. This was it. He would see them. The crowd. This would be his first time performing as a soloist. Yeah, he had others to take care of the acoustics. But this really was all him.

He picked his guitar with the first few notes, and the lights behind him sprang to life. He raised his head and met her eyes. He could do this.

Opening his mouth, he began to sing as best he could.

"You would not believe your eyes

If ten million fireflies

Lit up the world as I fell asleep . . ."

And the soloist sang on.

Normal.

But extraordinary.