Wednesday, April 27, 2011

My Mother Sang to Me

The one thing I regret never having said to my mother was a question: "Who sang to you?"

She sang to me. To us. From her we were given a deep and abiding love for music.

Where He Leads Me I will Follow. She sang that to me and I cried. Reflecting, I suppose, in some deep, subconscious toddler fashion upon the trials and joys of Christian discipleship. At any rate, she thought it was cute.

I taught my sisters to sing harmony. Three part harmony, because there were three of us and three notes make a chord. Of all the things I miss about making music, singing harmony is the thing I miss most.

The rain sings on my roof, each drop sounding a different note. It is as if God is singing me to sleep in the most soothing voice imaginable. A voice as of many waters and I am reminded what exquisite harmonies there will be in heaven. Isaiah tells us that all creation will sing:

For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace:
And the mountains and the hills before you
Shall break forth into singing,
And all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

Harmonious singing and rythmic clapping.

Who sang to you?


  1. RB, both of my parents had beautiful voices. Mom, mostly I remember her singing at church or for the Civic Chorus...don't remember her just singing around the house much. Dad, he sang at church and in the Civic Chorus, and I STILL remember all the verses of "There's a Hole in the Bottom of the Sea," "The Farmer in the Dell," "Froggy Went A'Courtin'," etc. Those were the end-of-the-day songs and the bedtime songs. Dad smoked and drank coffee all day - I still remember being curled up in his lap in his big black leather chair, the comforting smell of stale cigarettes and coffee, safe and snug and laughing at Froggy and Miss Mousie.

    Who sang to this mother when she was a child? Mostly, I guess it was Dad. After a string of late nights rocking and singing babies, I once wished I had someone to rock me and sing me to sleep! Long post, but just scroll to the end...

  2. Camille, great post! In fact you should re-post it.

    If it's any consolation to you, I nuture my wife in sickness by poking fun at her until she laughs, then leave, figuring I've done my job!

  3. Dad sang to us a lot. He would sit with us and rock and sing - "God Is So Good." I can remember lying in my crib mattress on the floor - my brother Reuben and i shared a room - and he would bring his acoustic guitar in, sit on one of those ladderback chairs we still have - and play and sing all his favorite songs and our favorites. "His Eye Is On The Sparrow," "Jesus Loves Me," John Denver tunes. Even now whenever i hear someone playing straightforward songs on an acoustic guitar, it makes me feel peaceful. Maybe even a little sleepy :)