Sunday Morning Serenity

I am give out. That has to be one of the most dead-on accurate, wonderfully layered of all Southernisms. I know I've written about it before, but it's all I can think of this morning, so forgive me for repeating myself. I'm not just tired—I'm give out—as in spread way too thin, trying to do too much in too little time, agreeing to help with things I don't have time to help with . . . Finally, on Thursday of this week, I hit a wall. And I did what I always do in that state—I called my mother and said, "I just can't do all of this!!" [There was perhaps a touch of drama in my delivery.] To which my mother calmly replied, "Well, of course you can't, so stop trying."  (People think Oprah invented "learn to say no," but she actually got that from Mama:)

One-by-one I started taking things off my to-do list—not marking them off—taking them off. My good friend Jane, our church organist, is playing solo this morning because even preparing music and getting myself 25 miles down the highway to church was more than I could handle. Did you ever feel that way—just an overwhelming need to stop—to rest and be quiet and stop scheduling, arranging, coordinating, and preparing (work, supper, home projects, garden projects, volunteer projects, etc.)? Color me THERE.

As I sat on our deck before sunrise, listening to the night critters hand off noise-making duty to the morning shift, I was thinking of a song Jane and I played a week or two ago. It's called "Leave It There," from the African American Heritage Hymnal. This beautiful song, all about letting go of your burdens, was composed by Rev. Charles Tindley. I was curious about his background, so I looked him up on Wikipedia. Born in 1851, he's considered one of the fathers of American gospel music. His father was a slave, but his mother was free, so even though he himself was free, he grew up around slaves. As an adult, he had jobs carrying bricks and working as a janitor in a church he would later pastor. Even though he had no formal education, he learned Greek and Hebrew and passed the examination (with high scores) to become a Methodist Episcopal minister. He would eventually pastor a multiracial congregation of 10,000 in Philadelphia. I imagine someone who worked as hard as Reverend Tindley knew a thing or two about being "give out." But instead of whining to Mama as I did, he wrote this:

If the world from you withhold of its silver and its gold,
And you have to get along with meager fare,
Just remember in His Word how he feeds the little bird—
Take your burden to the Lord and leave it there. 

If your body suffers pain and your health you can't regain,
And your soul is almost sinking in despair,
Jesus knows the pain you feel, He can save and He can heal—
Take your burden to the Lord and leave it there.

When your enemies assail and your heart begins to fail,
Don't forget that God in heaven answers prayer;
He will make a way for you, He will lead you safely through—
Take your burden to the Lord and leave it there. 

[Image by Joy Zaehringer @ Freerangestock.com]

Comments

[Rose Chandler Johnson]

I love this post. Thank you for your openness and honesty...and faith. I remember that song from my childhood. Could you hear me singin' it just then?

[Valerie]

Thanks so much, Rose.