CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter… ©
I find that singing is more important to me as I age. I have always enjoyed singing, but now I have so many memories that go with the songs.
A snatch of song comes up from somewhere, and with it a host or memories.
Even simple little songs, like “Jesus Loves Me.” I used to sing that to tiny grandson Joe when he was in the hospital with cancer.
One problem is that when you hear a song in public, and the memories come, people look at your strangely when you are crying during a happy song or laughing during a sad one.
My hippo-campus is sort of like a random-play iPod. This morning “Balm in Gilead” came up. It always makes me think of Catherine and Scott Smith, with appreciation for their friendship. We were already friends when their 20-year-old son, Bob, committed suicide, in the same university building where his father taught Physics, but we became very close through that experience. We sang “Balm in Gilead” at his funeral. Scott and Catherine often spoke of how much that song meant to them.
Old-age singing is a balm, “to heal the sin-sick soul.”
John Robert McFarland
The “place of winter” mentioned in the title line is Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where life is defined by winter even in the summer! [This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.]
I tweet as yooper1721.