Christmas carol about a boy riding his bike

When I was in middle school, I sang a solo at a Christmas concert. My song was "Silent Night," but in Portuguese rather than English. I was on stage by myself, singing the song, when suddenly in the second or third verse, I forgot the lyrics. I had very little time to figure out what to do, but I have always known that you have to keep doing something. Audiences want a show; they don't want to see you fall apart, and they never seem to mind when you go off script. 

"Just keep singing." "Just keep smiling." 

No matter how badly you messed up—you can pull it into something that functions.

This motto has worked very well for me during my moments on stages. 

(Save the tears for your friends backstage and your family at home.)

So in the split second or two that I had after realizing I forgot the next line of lyrics and before I had to start singing again, I made the decision to keep singing. And so, to the melody of "Silent Night," I sang about a boy riding his bicycle. (Still in Portuguese, of course.) (I spoke Portuguese, because in elementary school I lived in Brazil.)

The song ended, everyone applauded, and I left the stage.

I have no idea how many people in that small audience of Muncie, Indiana, spoke Portuguese and wondered why instead of singing about Baby Jesus, I was singing about a boy riding his bicycle. 

I'll never know.

Soren Kierkegaard wrote, "Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards."

At the time of the musical memory loss, I was nervous about messing up and determined to keep going. I didn't think much else about it.

Now looking back, I view the experience differently.

I see myself in a difficult situation where I didn't know everything I had hoped to know, and I did not let that stop me. I used what I did know (even with the lyrics forgotten, I still knew the melody, and I still knew Portuguese!). I kept going until I found myself in the familiar footing of the chorus where I could once again sing the actual lyrics. 

So many times these days, I feel like I don't have enough information. How worried should I be about covid? How strict should I be with my children? How lenient should I be with my children? Will my child grow up to be a confident, positive person, because I let him play with friends before doing his homework? Will my child grow up to be someone who never sets goals or strives to be better, because I forced him to do his homework before playing with friends? How much time should I give to my hobbies? How much time should I give to my family? What is "right"? What is "wrong"? How much ice cream should an active six year old eat???

My brain has so much to think about. All the time. 

And sometimes I get stuck in these holes of everything that I don't know. And I stop "singing the song" just because of a few "lyrics" that I don't know.  I forget to have confidence in the fact that I know the melody and I know the language. What are a few mislaid lyrics compared to that foundation of knowledge?

Even if I am not sure whether lights out at 8:00 or 8:30 makes me a terrible mother, I can still just make a decision based on what I do know: sleep is important, I am their mother and I get to make these decisions, I can talk to them about how tired or energetic they feel depending on how much sleep they get, I can even choose one way and then change my mind if it wasn't working, etc. 

As long as I remember that what I don't know doesn't have to be more powerful than what I do know, I can just keep singing, making mistakes here and there, but still performing my own beautiful song.