For Mom, on her birthday:
My mom told me that when she was pregnant with me I would kick her in time with the church organ.
My mom told me a story that I now tell anyone who will listen. It is about me when I was a toddler. I didn’t like being alone. If I was bad, my parents would threaten to close the door during nap time. This achieved its desired result because to me a closed door meant being cut off from the world. During this stage of my life, Mum and Dad sang me to sleep every night after the Lord’s prayer and final bathroom run—which had various code names like “Ooka laka.” (Don’t ask.) After this ritual, Mom often rested on the rug next to my bed until I fell asleep. If she didn’t, I wouldn’t.
On this specific occasion, my mom thought I was asleep. She got up and started to quietly leave the room. I noticed and said, “Mommy, back to your mat!” That was the last time Mommy slept on her mat.
But the singing didn’t stop. I don’t even remember what my parents sang to me besides Swing Low, Sweet Chariot. There were a good number of hymns, like A Mighty Fortress is Our God, often sung in harmony. I remember one non-hymn that Dad sang by himself. It went: Continue reading