Lately, however, I've realized that the more I play Hymns, EFY music, etc, the better it feels in our home, too. This feeling could be a mixture of a cleaned house, folded laundry, and a great smelling candle; but I know that there is something about listening to uplifting music in the home. I'll have a song or two stuck in my head as I leave for work, humming the tune throughout the day and I find that some situations are easier to handle because of the song I listened to that morning. Even if I am just playing around on my Facebook, or here on my blog, and I have some church music playing, I always just feel better. I understand why my Mom always played the church music now, and I'm so glad that she did (even if I didn't realize it at the time).
I am so grateful to have been born into a musically talented and music loving family. I miss hearing my Mom, Aunt, Gram and Papa practicing around our piano for an upcoming Sacrament meeting number. I miss being able to hear my mom singing next to me in Sacrament meeting and to this day I still sing the parts the way I remember her singing them; Even with the little added notes or her personality. I miss being able to hear my Papa singing his part all the way across the chapel.
Then I miss singing like I'm tone deaf to get an elbow to the ribs and a poorly hidden laugh from my Mom. Trying to get my Gram, the chorister, to smile or laugh at my brother and I while she was on the stand. Making eye contact with my Dad no matter where he was for our favorite "Day by Day" inside joke. *Nauvoo Shoes*
I miss my Papa's singing and his Barbershop performances. I keep telling Rodney about how fun it is to listen and to watch them, wishing we could go to the competitions and things that my Papa always goes to.
I don't know how I missed these updates! This is a beautiful tribute to your mama.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was in Jerusalem, no one had a stereo because of our luggage weight restrictions. I was SO music deprived. I had no idea how important it was to me. After telling this to my parents in a letter, Dad sat down and recorded several guitar pieces. I borrowed a friend's Walkman (remember those?!)and bought two new batteries. I sat on my bed and listened to every single note. Then, quite unexpectedly, my mom started singing to me. You guessed it. I bawled like a baby. I still love the sound of my mother's voice, too.