“We are happier in many ways when we are old than when we were young. The young sow wild oats. The old grow sage.” –Winston Churchill
I know an old lady who sings in church. She sings at the appropriate times with everyone else. She sings at inappropriate times when everyone else is silent.
I know an old lady who sings in church. She’s deaf but can still sing. She’s sees the words before her and sees the mouths moving on the people around her. She often doesn’t see those mouths stop moving and, since the words are still before her, she keeps singing into the silence.
I know an old lady who sings in church. She sings into the silence. Her voice is faint from where I sit. She sings with a quiet strength in a weak voice. She doesn’t enunciate well. I can’t understand the words she sings but then I remember that the words were before me also although I had lost sight of them. I had turned the page.
I know an old lady who sings in church. She sometimes sings while the preacher is preaching. She sometimes sings while the readers are reading. She sometimes sings while the prayers are being prayed. I think this distracts people who are easily distracted. I have a suspicion that it’s comforting to people who need church to feel more real.
I know an old lady who sings in church. I think she can’t help but sing. I think God makes her do it. I think she must sing because it’s the only sound in her head. Somewhat because she is deaf. More because Jesus is in there. She’s not deaf to Jesus.
I know an old lady who sings in church. In her deafness. In inappropriate times. Into the silence. Over the preaching, reading, and praying. To Jesus.
I’d like to learn to sing.