2020 has been a mind-twisting, friendship-testing, body-morphing, politically-toxic year! No matter where you fall on the spectrum-of-life… you feel like a different person coming out of this year than you were going in.
Or, maybe it’s just me.
Lately, I have been feeling very sorry for myself and for my upside-down-country that used to bring me so much joy and pride. We Americans and our national pride, eh?
Again, doesn’t matter what you believe about the political scene… it’s a fight to the finish. Some folks thrive on it. Others retreat.
I’ve been on the merry-go-round. At turns, so angry I can’t see straight. Other times, so disappointed, sad and embarrassed.
Mostly, I feel like crawling to a sinkhole and jumping in.
Call me when it’s over.
This morning, I was reminded of a hymn I like to share at Christmas because of the story behind it and the pageantry of this particular production, which is STUNNING.
As always, I listened and watched it again before sharing to my Facebook page.
Here’s how it went…
Before the first strains of music or syllables are uttered… I am already sitting in Nana’s living room (in my mind’s eye, of course, since Nana has been gone for 15 years).
The house smells like fresh coffee and Estee´perfume, her signature scent. Everything is clean and bright and though it’s Southern California, mid-December days aren’t always sunny. Today it is gloomy.
We are in her living room. She’s sitting on the wooden bench in front of the fireplace. I am on the couch, next to the picture window, facing her.
We’re talking, visiting, laughing…
In the background, there is a cassette tape I’d given her years before- an anthology of hymns sung by Sandy Patty.
And then, “It is Well with My Soul” comes on… and the world stops.
We stop to listen.
When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll—
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to know
It is well, it is well with my soul.
(Very small excerpt of “It Is Well with My Soul”. Music composed by Philip Paul Bliss, lyrics by Horatio G. Spafford)
“I love that one!” Nana would say.
“What a voice!” I’d respond.
Sometimes, we would tear-up.
Sometimes, we’d sing along.
Mostly, we just sat in awe.
Over and over this scene (in all its incarnations) played out in Nana’s living room.
She was… my very best friend. I sure miss her! My featured photo is of the two of us… at Christmas in… oh, about 1992, I’d say, in her kitchen. 🙂