An Echo in his Soul

The sun shines like a spotlight on Paul Hill's face, then fades against the tinted backdrop of the Walmart food center's sliding glass doors.

Hill clips his sheet music in the top basket of a shopping cart. He rings his bell on the downbeat, leans his head back, closes his eyes and eases his Georgia drawl into the first few words of "Silent Night."

"I'm in my field," Hill says. "I'm doing my thing."

Hill's voice echoes, smooth and rich, through the store's lobby and floats out over the hum of exhaust pipes and squeaky brakes in Walmart's parking lot.

Customers approach intrigued and surprised by Hill's singing. Some give him a thumbs up or a nod and compliment him on his gospel versions of "Go Tell It On the Mountain," "O Come, All Ye Faithful" and "Angels We Have Heard on High."

In Hill's first day as a Salvation Army bell ringer, he raised $628, which was more than any other bell ringer in Tulsa that day.

Customers say, " 'I usually don't give, but that voice, and you're singing about the Lord, I'm going to donate. This is just for your voice,' " Hill said. "I'm doing a good thing for the 5,000 needy families here in Tulsa alone."

One shopper drops a few bucks in the red kettle, leans in to see the lyrics on Hill's sheet music and does her best to join in.

"It's all that I need for someone to come out and try to harmonize," Hill said.

"Now most of them can't hold a tune in a bucket, but I enjoy singing with them, anyway. They just want to sing with me, and I'm like, 'Let's go for it.'

"I'll be making some joyful noises; they'll be making some joyful noises; and it's all good. Some are more joyful than others," Hill laughed.

Hill is 49 with a round physique, a salt-and-pepper goatee and a quick laugh. His voice, he says, was both a gift from God and a product of years spent singing as a soloist in gospel choirs in his hometown of Atlanta.

"I only sing gospel," Hill says. "I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with 'Jingle Bells' or 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,' but I'm trying to put Christ and the spirit of Christ back into Christmas."

Hill says he owes his life to two things: singing and God.

Since 2005, he has spent time in a handful of nursing homes recuperating from heart surgery due to congestive heart failure and high blood pressure. His health forced him to quit his job assembling stoves for Whirlpool and go on disability.

"When they checked me in, they were telling me that my heart had gotten worse and that I was not going to get better," he said.

Hill spent 24 hours a day on oxygen and confined to a wheelchair. "I couldn't hardly breathe and couldn't walk on my own," he said.

That's when a former member of Hill's church recognized him in the nursing home.

"She said, 'Do you all know who you all got down there? That's brother Hill, and he can sing!'"

The activities director started asking Hill to sing bits and pieces of songs for her.

"As I kept singing day after day, I was getting stronger and stronger," Hill said. Today he doesn't use an oxygen tank and walks without assistance.

"The Lord has restored me. Not 100 percent, but 80 percent, and I can't help but to sing praises," he said.

Hill takes a break from singing during his eight-hour shift on a 50-degree day outside the Walmart at Admiral Boulevard and Memorial Drive. Shirley Richey, a Walmart employee whose name tag touts her 25 years with the company, exits the building and asks him why he's not singing.

"She always gets me," Hill says.

"I will just have stopped, and they'll say, 'You're not singing.' I say, 'I'm trying to rest,' and they say, 'Uh uh, I'm going to put some money in here and you better start singing.' "

"I'll act like the kettle is a jukebox," he said. "They'll put it in, and I'll start back up."

Hill has dreams of recording gospel albums as a soloist, as he did growing up in his hometown church.

"That's the only time I've been in the studio," he said. Friends told him he should try out for "American Idol."

"Once I get my grill fixed, then I'll go," he told them, pointing to the three-tooth gap in his lower bite. "They have image consultants, and I wouldn't make it."

"This is my audition, man," Hill says about the Walmart entrance. "I'm praying for God to send somebody that can show me the ropes of the recording industry."

Hill makes it clear that he's not just singing for donations.

"When I'm at home, this is what I do," he said.

Sometimes he'll play his keyboard and get carried away, and his neighbors will bang on the wall. "Boom, boom, boom, and they say, 'Take it down a notch.' "

"I do it on the bus; I do it in the street; I do it in the grocery store. I do it wherever I can," Hill said.