Dad sings Joseph’s Song

Gifts come in different shapes and sizes, don’t they?
What one may mean as a gift, may not mean much to the recipient.
And what may seem like a small present, may move the world of another.
And like the Fallacy of Composition theory in economics,
a gift is always more than a sum of its parts.

It is familiar
and new.

I don’t remember going to church as a young child.
When I was in tenth grade, I believe it was,
my new friend Kenneth invited me to church.
He said he wanted me to meet someone that he knew I would like: Della.
To this day, Kenneth and Della are two of my favorite people in the world …
and they are my oldest, active and close friendships.

After that invitation, we began to go to church as a family. But, after my brother and I graduated, my father stopped going to church. My mother went some with my grandfather while he lived in their home, but once he passed away, regular attendance stopped.

And this is one of those things that I haven’t breached in conversation. How do you ask about tender decisions like this?

For whatever reason, things are different now. My parents both go to church … together.  They are attending a wonderful little country Methodist church with a pastor who just blesses my soul. He’s an older man …. older than my own father by years.  He’s a nice fella, but he moves me deeply with each sermon that he shares. I love to join them for digging into the Word.

I sat in the audience last Friday night
and thought of how I missed my parents …
so far away.
They are a six hour drive for us …
for us to see their faces, hug their necks, dine at their table.  

We used to live about thirty minutes from them.
But, even that close, we rarely saw them ….
they were busy with their own lives
and us with ours.
My children were tiny at the time,
Joy a newborn until she was almost four
before we decided to move to a new city.
I couldn’t just pick up and run over there for a bit
with homeschooling and my home duties.
And when Mom and dad ran errands, they were always eager to get back home.
So, we visited when we were able to travel to them
which surely wasn’t often enough.

So, now, we visit for a weekend at a time. They come here once or twice a year, and we reciprocate about the same. It is not enough for me, but it is where we are right now.

(My mom is the second from the left on the back row … with salt & pepper hair)

It was such a treat to sit and listen to them sing …
When we were last home, we were able to attend their church choir musical.
And my sweet daddy ….  he sang Joseph’s song ..
the only male solo in the cantata.
He says he is glad that we were there
because that was probably
the first and last solo
he’ll ever sing.
He makes me laugh.
I’m just glad I was there to see and hear him.

And to hear Melinda play the piano! I know that practice is important ….
but she makes it look effortless. I watch her play and think that I
wash dishes, write a grocery list or vacuum as effortlessly ….
while she plays the piano effortlessly.
She makes it look E.A.S.Y …. she makes it sound as if it is simple …
flawless, gently or dramatically tinging or pounding at one key at a time ….
timing perfect,
fingers in place,
pressure just right.
It’s just as well that God didn’t give me a musical gift.
If I could play or sing really well,
I know that I would struggle with humility and I would live a prideful life. I know it. I know it. I know it.
So, I sit in awe of others who have that gift … as Melinda certainly does.

I’m thankful for our visit …. my dad, healthy and strong
no active cancer in his body.
I’m thankful that Glory got to join us.
It’s been a year since she’s been to Recovery (my parent’s little community) with us.
And I’m thankful that both of my parents are active in church.
They are hearing the Word preached and
they are ministering and being ministered to in a congregation of believers.

I sat and listened.
I soaked in the sight of friendship …
a tiny church of maybe thirty believers
swell at the seams with friends that came
to listen, support and worship together.
It was a wonderful gift, that sweet cantata …
and like the Fallacy of Composition
it proved to be so much more than just melodies and lyrics.

One thought on “Dad sings Joseph’s Song

  1. There’s nothing like a daddy doing what he’s supposed to be doing. Cherish, I mean really hold dear in your heart, what you saw in your daddy the other night. Memories are wonderfully warming things.


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