Sunday Morning Reflections of the Not-Quite-So-Sick and Shut-In

I just had a conversation in which the other party mentioned that I look better than some women in their 30s. Cool with me. Who doesn’t want to hear flattering things on a Sunday morning (heck, any day of the week) when her sinuses are standing up and claiming new land in the name of infection and all that? But specifically, I took–and take–joy in the irony involved in having a relationship with God.

Here’s the irony: I am in the worst shape of my life physically (yes, I can admit that–LOL. That’s the first step to addressing a problem, or so I’ve been told), yet everywhere I turn folk are telling me how good I look, and really, although I disagree, it’s not an argument I want to win . . . really . . .

The great thing is that I don’t have to win it. ‘Cause what I do understand is that although I take issues with the physical imperfections of my body, God still shines through me from the inside out, and that is what is reflected for all to see. Irony, right? So yeah. I’ll take it.

Anyway, as I thanked the other party for noticing that God has smiled on me, I was taken to a flashback of my 14-year-old self, still fresh off the “banana boat” as they say, in Springfield Baptist Church in Washington DC on a Sunday morning. That day I marveled at the difference in worship music as the choir and congregation sang the chorus of a song by the late Rev. James Cleveland,

a song filled with . . . 

words still unknown to me
words that I grappled to learn
that spoke
to my head, and which my heart
did not yet understand:

“God has smiled on me
“He has set meee free-ee-ee
“God has smiled on me
“He’s been goo-oo-ood
“To me!”

At 14 I could not yet grasp that truth, for my world was a miasma of new experiences, new thoughts, and a constant struggle to combat homesickness, the onset of bipolar disorder, and the challenges of learning the rules of a new land and a new way of schooling.

My life was the embodiment of the saying, “Be careful what you ask for; you just might get it.”

I had what I wanted.

I was once again reunited with my mother. We were living in the same country, state, and apartment. However, she was no longer the same person my 6-year-old mind recalled. Yearly visits at Christmas were really not long enough to discern a change in attitude over the years, and heck, what did a 6, 7, or 8-year-old know about that? Growing up it was all about, “Can I sit in your lap, I’m not that heavy,” “What’d you bring me?” and “A whole American $20 bill . . . just for me?”

So there I was, 14 years old, in the midst of living my heart’s greatest desire since age 6:

conflicted
challenged
excited
lonely
depressed
curious
absorbed
musically intrigued
homesick
guilty
angry
disconnected
creative
solitary
suicidal

Music was my salvation. The curiosity of the new form of music (gospel) was enough to keep me around. I couldn’t wait for Saturday Youth Choir rehearsal. Of course, I along with all the other girls in that 13-17 age group had a crush on the Youth Minister of Music–he was fresh outta college and cute as heck. He was also quite gifted musically, and many of our songs were his original creations. *Sigh.* Cute and gifted too?

Being forced to sing the high soprano note (when I was a Soprano II with lazy alto tendencies) was not so much a struggle anymore. The sopranos sat on the first row!

Then came another fabulous experience, school choir. As my peers grumbled and groaned at the choices of songs and muttered that they’d only joined the choir to obtain an easy A, I secretly cut my eyes at them (the equivalent of the American eye roll, but more evil-looking) and kept my joy to myself. I basked in the joys of hearing harmony from nonsensical ditties to contemporary songs like “The Long and Winding Road” (a song which won us first place in the regional championships) or Christian-based songs like “Dona Nobis Pacem (God Give Us Peace).” I ate it all up.

Finally, I decided I wanted to learn an instrument. All my siblings had taken piano lessons back home, but the piano never seemed to thrill me. I chose guitar.

I got those guitar lessons and grudgingly practiced. I guess folk forget to mention all the hours of practice involved in getting good at that. So, uh . . . no virtuoso playing over here. However, gimme a book with some chords and a few days’ practice, and I can accompany myself without embarrassment.

This was the time of 8-tracks, records, and 45s. I would sit after school and listen to my favorite songs, over and over, picking a part and tracing it all throughout the song. Then I’d replay it, pick another part, and do the same thing, till I’d sung the soprano, alto, and tenor parts. I still do that today; however, it’s usually when I’m learning a song to teach to my youth choir.

So . . . yes. God smiled on me back then through my love of music. He still does. Wherever you are in your life right now, whatever your situation, please know that God is smiling on you right now. He is being good to you even though your circumstances may prevent you from seeing it. If you open up your mouth and begin speaking positively to your situation, He will elevate you to the point where your spiritual eyes will begin to see the form or shape His smile takes in your life. You will begin to experience the goodness already prevalent. You can rejoice the irony of relationship with God too. It can be done, but your participation is necessary.

You can start right now by repeating these words with me.  Right now, open up your mouth and begin to speak truth to your situation:

“God has smiled on me”
He has set meee free-ee-ee
“God has smiled on me
“He’s been goo-oo-ood to me.”

I say:

He’s been good

Everybody now:

 He’s been good!

 Last time:

 He’s been goo-oo-ood . . . to me!

 Amen!

(Found a link on YouTube enjoy! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MxbKIZAvsFs&feature=related)

Originally written December 2, 2007 by D.S. White