For years, many years ago, I was a musician. Not a professional--I was never that good, but I was pretty good. And I sang all the time. Then things changed, and I stopped singing. My life of writing books had emerged, and my voice was failing, so I let it go . . .
Now I find myself singing again--to myself, while I walk or drive. Songs are a great gift. Sometimes I sing the songs I wrote back in the days of songwriting and small concerts. Mostly I become attracted to a particular song and learn it and sing it. A few of my musical companions:
During Advent: "The angel Gabriel from heaven came . . ." / "I'll Be Home for Christmas" / "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas"
Lately: "If Not Now" and "I Do Not Know Its Name" by Carrie Newcomer
Always, from time to time: "Trumpet Child" by Over the Rhine
From Babette's Feast (and we've sung it at my church): "If Thou But Suffer God to Guide Thee"
It's always good to have a song, to discover a song and learn it by heart, to sing it to yourself when you want to feel the air spinning inside you and marvelous phrases lifting out of yourself and beyond . . .