Livin On Love

When I was a kid, my dad forced us to listen to Country and Western music on the car radio. You remember the days when the car radio was all there was in the car? No DVD player? When there was an AM but no FM? Maybe that's too far back. That was his favorite and he was driving - and there ya are.

I remember some of those songs. I remember when we got old enough to understand some of the lyrics. "I can tell you've never been this far before" or "Take the ribbon from your hair" or maybe "And when we get behind closed doors" One or two became family jokes and we all sang along.

The singing is the important part. I grew up in the church of Christ where it was acapella - all the time. My daddy was a song leader and our whole family sang (my mom's part is also or so she's always said.) So we all sang along in the car with the Country music - I would say that "Daddy sang bass, Mama sang tenor" but my dad sang lead most of the time. Us kids were the harmony when we got old enough.

I was thinking about all this when we were driving back from Ft. Worth last week. Jim and I found a "Country Gold" station and we were just singing along! I loved it. (It's always a treat for me to hear my hubby sing or to sing along with him.) You should have heard us singing "She's a broken lady waiting to be mended." It reminded me of riding with my family and, even though I didn't know it, I was perfecting my harmony. Those country songs are full of harmony and I've been hearing it for years.

There's lots of talk about getting too far away from our acapella heritage. About our kids growing up without being able to sing the hymns or harmonies like we can. Perhaps we should switch it over to the country station every once in awhile?

Don't forget that tomorrow we start the Spring Reading Thing! Have your list ready to post in the comments!

That's Why We Sing

I went back to St. Andrew about once a month. No one tried to con me into sitting down or staying. I always left before the sermon. I loved singing, even about Jesus, but I just didn’t want to be preached at about him. To me, Jesus made about as much sense as Scientology or dowsing. But the church smelled wonderful, like the air had nourishment in it, or like it was composed of these people’s exhalations of warmth and faith and peace.

There were always children running around or being embraced, and a gorgeous
stick-thin deaf black girl signing to her mother, hearing the songs and the
Scriptures through her mother’s flashing fingers. ….And every other week they
brought huge tubs of great food for the homeless families living at the shelter
near the canal to the north. I loved this. But it was the singing that pulled me
in a split me wide open.

I could sing better here than I ever had before. As part of these
people, even though I stayed in the doorway, I did not recognize my voice or
know where it was coming from, but sometimes I felt like I could sing forever.

Eventually, a few months after I started coming, I took a seat in one
of the folding chairs, off by myself. Then the singing enveloped me. It was
furry and resonant, coming from everyone’s very heart. There was no sense of
performance or judgment, only that the music was breath and food. Something
inside me that was stiff and rotting would feel soft and tender. Somehow the
singing wore down all the boundaries and distinctions that kept me so isolated.
Sitting there, standing with them to sing, sometimes so shaky and sick that I
felt like I might tip over, I felt bigger than myself, like I was being taken
care of, tricked into coming back to life. But I had to leave before the
sermon.

Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamont

This is why I sing on the Praise Team - for the person who hears it in their heart.