Five of us from my family went to the Prayer for Schools half-time event at Westwood Elementary in Fairview today.
It was moving. Thank you, Jim, Robbie and Angela and anyone else involved.
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Driving a narrow, winding country road, I heard screams punctuate the dark night. Baby Destiny did not like her car seat. She was tired, she was hungry, she wanted her mommy. And she was letting us know! She knows a few words at 14 months old. "Momomomomom," "baba," "uh-oh," and "dada." But the only way she could express her discomfort was to wail. Maybe mommy (my granddaughter who was in the car, too) or daddy would give in and hold her if she screamed loud enough. Quiet voices saying, "Now Destiny, we'll be home soon and we'll get you out of the car seat," did absolutely nothing except remind her that the mean people in the car would not do what she wanted. She screamed louder and louder.
Softly and slowly I started to sing:
Twinkle, twinkle little star (pause)
How I wonder what you are (pause)
It was magic. She stopped crying immediately and just listened.
I finished the song and there was silence. For about two minutes. No, she did not break the silence. The grownups burst out laughing. Then her mommy took up the song and though Destiny fussed a little, she was not nearly as distraught as we finished the trip to their home.
We knew she would not be in that car seat forever. But she didn't.
We knew she was going home to food and a warm bed. But she didn't.
We knew that her mommy's and daddy's arms would surround her again. But she didn't.
So that is why I sing. I've been in that car seat, screaming uncontrollably to God, who didn't seem to be caring about my pain. God's quiet voice saying, "This will last for just a season, I am here with you, you'll be home soon," should be enough for me to rest and stop struggling to get out. But many times, I just scream louder. And the Lord sends a song. A praise song at church. Radio. Writing my own song. Singing an old hymn from the songs I learned as a child. Comfort. Peace. Trust. I may still struggle some, but I can rest knowing that He works all things together for good.
I bet you've been in that seat, too. Or maybe you are right now. Sing.
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Lee Bannister / Blog
Prayer for Schools
Five of us from my family went to the Prayer for Schools half-time event at Westwood Elementary in Fairview today. It was moving. Thank you, Jim, Robbie and Angela and anyone else involved.
Reply
Why I Sing
Driving a narrow, winding country road, I heard screams punctuate the dark night. Baby Destiny did not like her car seat. She was tired, she was hungry, she wanted her mommy. And she was letting us know! She knows a few words at 14 months old. "Momomomomom," "baba," "uh-oh," and "dada." But the only way she could express her discomfort was to wail. Maybe mommy (my granddaughter who was in the car, too) or daddy would give in and hold her if she screamed loud enough. Quiet voices saying, "Now Destiny, we'll be home soon and we'll get you out of the car seat," did absolutely nothing except remind her that the mean people in the car would not do what she wanted. She screamed louder and louder. Softly and slowly I started to sing: Twinkle, twinkle little star (pause) How I wonder what you are (pause) It was magic. She stopped crying immediately and just listened. I finished the song and there was silence. For about two minutes. No, she did not break the silence. The grownups burst out laughing. Then her mommy took up the song and though Destiny fussed a little, she was not nearly as distraught as we finished the trip to their home. We knew she would not be in that car seat forever. But she didn't. We knew she was going home to food and a warm bed. But she didn't. We knew that her mommy's and daddy's arms would surround her again. But she didn't. So that is why I sing. I've been in that car seat, screaming uncontrollably to God, who didn't seem to be caring about my pain. God's quiet voice saying, "This will last for just a season, I am here with you, you'll be home soon," should be enough for me to rest and stop struggling to get out. But many times, I just scream louder. And the Lord sends a song. A praise song at church. Radio. Writing my own song. Singing an old hymn from the songs I learned as a child. Comfort. Peace. Trust. I may still struggle some, but I can rest knowing that He works all things together for good. I bet you've been in that seat, too. Or maybe you are right now. Sing.
Reply