Tuesday, October 27, 2009

The good old ways

I've had lots of quiet time to think since I was laid off 5 weeks ago. I'm bored, my sleep patterns are starting to change, and I watch TV when I should be sleeping. Why even last night, I was awake during the 10 o'clock news! (Yes, I've always preferred mornings.)

A couple of nights ago, after my hubby succumbed to the Sand Man, I lay scrolling through the listing guide trying to find something to watch. It was too late for a movie, and I wanted something that had the potential to lull me, so I quickly passed up all the CSI reruns and movie star bios. John had been watching Monster Quest, so I was distractedly watching the search for Sasquatch as I surfed.

And then I saw it: The Grand Ole Opry sings Gospel. Intrigued, I clicked over and found myself completely enraptured. There was some country music star that I should know but don't, introducing Give Me Jesus. It was the most beautiful rendition of that old country gospel song, without the hated steel guitar or nasal twang. The man simply stood before the microphone and sang to an accompanying master pianist accomplished at emotion-wringing 7th chords. I can't stop hearing it.

I am now quite removed from my childhood religion. I spent many bitter years extracting that dogma from my psyche. But strangely enough, now that I am removed from the religious atmosphere enough to see through it, I miss it. That is, I miss what surrounds that culture. Fellowship, the shared experience of religious ecstasy, the music that convinces the masses to feel the fervor. In other words, it isn't the religiosity that I miss; what I miss is the feeling of community.

Perhaps I feel this way because I live over 700 miles from my childhood home. Perhaps it is my loneliness speaking, this yearning for the familiar. Certainly the weeks of unemployed idleness isn't helping matters, but I am shocked at the longing I felt at hearing that one song. I'm trying to reconcile the years of disdain with this newfound craving. What I wouldn't give to hear a congregation of enthusiastic worshipers singing I'll Fly Away in an emotional frenzy (whether the emotion comes from the words, or merely the beat I won't venture to guess). I think I need more music in my life.

1 comment:

  1. Marci,

    This struck a nerve with me. I, myself, am a recovering legalist (smile). I can so relate to exactly what you said in this post. There's probably more out there just like us!

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