Songs for the Journey Home

On Mama's last day, we sang. We sang our pain and we sang our joy. We sang for God and we sang for our family. It was a defining time, defining us as people of God and as people of a clan. We sang until our voices and our spirits were exhausted. Between verses, we talked and ate fried chicken and vegetable soup and lots of other treats that I can't remember.

We sang in vigil. Every hum and tune and lyric was a prayer to the heavens that Mama be accepted into God's presence and that the whole of her life be a blessing to God and that the burden of her journey be light. We sang loudly and we sang softly. We sang though tears and we sang through fits of laughter. We sang every song that came to mind. We searched the 1982 Hymnal and Lift Every Voice and Sing II and the back corners of our minds and of course . . . the internet . . . to find the words and the tunes.

Oh, God so blessed us that day. I promised Mama one night as she was going to bed, that God would heal ALL of us. The songs for her journey home healed us that day. Those songs blessed us, making straight Mama's path and our own. Those songs were so spontaneous and raw and pure like the waters of baptism, making us and Mama new and whole.

Here are a few of the songs we sang, as my memory will allow (some listed by first line for recognition)

This is the Day The Lord Has Made

The Johnny Apple seed blessing

The Doxology

I'll Fly Away

A closer Walk with Thee

Seek Ye First

The Saints Go Marching In

Do Lord

It is Well with My Soul

Amazing Grace

Father I Adore You

Have You Seen Jesus My Lord

Leaning on the Everlasting Arms

A mighty fortress is our God

Be thou my vision

Christ the Lord is risen today

I am the bread of life

Just as I am

Lift every voice and sing

Lift high the cross

Stand up, stand up for Jesus

I want to walk as a child of the light

How Great Thou Art

Sweet Hour of Prayer

Nearer, My God to Thee

Forgive us Mama, we also sang Tramp on the Street . . . for ol' times sake : )

Going back home

After the worship service and burial of Mama's ashes and the visiting with family and friends, some we haven't seen in years . . . after a glass of wine and laughing on the porch until midnight, after coffee & left over fruit and cake for breakfast, and one last trip to the church to make sure everything was back in order . . . then, it was time to go home. The weekend was everything I hoped for - the service was beautiful, the church was full of people who love Mama, the weather was just right. Yes, it was hot in the church but services at St. Barnabas are always hot in June! I felt loved and open to being loved. I felt honored and blessed by my life, by my family, by my community. I felt whole and healed. I felt joy.

Then it was time to go home. Our stuff was packed and in the truck. Everyone got their hugs; some got two. I stood on the front steps of my grandaddy's old house, built in 1917, and looked at the Japanese Maple in the front yard that reaches above the first floor roofline (I remember when Grand planted it). And, it was time to go home.

My chest suddenly felt tight and my feet heavy. I felt a little confused about what home is. Home is the place I had to go, where I live with my husband, my children, my dog and cat, where my life happens day after day, where my work is and where Duncan & Lane go to school and where I sleep each night. Yet, home is also this place where I grew up, where we just laid Mama's ashes to rest, where the Japanese Maple grows toward the sky, where the smells and the sounds bring me back to my childhood.

I thank God for my home.