Sunday Morning Serenity

I guess this year has made all of us a little philosophical. We've definitely had more time to think. This morning, I've been thinking about my job and what a big part of my life it has been. Southern Living has been a life-long enrollment in continuing education, and I'm not just talking about all the talented people who took the time to mentor me over the years. Every story—the story itself—was an education, but a few will always stand out—one in particular that I've written about before but it's on my mind this morning.

When I met Pastor Shirley Caesar, she was wearing jeans and a blue sweater, her hair pulled back with a headband. She looked about 20 years younger than she actually was. (And no way was she going to allow photographs of her in blue jeans and a headband.) There was some confusion about her schedule. She wasn't sure why I was there with a photographer. (Art Meripol, was that you? I'm picturing you there for some reason, but it has been so long ago I can't remember.) It was lunchtime, and she hadn't eaten. She was busy. Why was I there again? She said she could give us 30 minutes at best. A couple of hours later—after a long lunch during which she told me all about her childhood beginnings in gospel music, all the famous soul singers she got to know when they were getting their start in gospel, and the evolution of gospel over her decades as a singer and minister—we came back to her house and sat down together at her white grand piano. She showed me some chords I had never seen. I couldn't believe I was sitting at the piano with Shirley Caesar, whose music I had known since I was a kid. 

She told me about all the things she had to do that day and it made me tired just listening to her. I asked her how she kept up that pace. Didn't she ever want time just for herself? And that's when she said: "We aren't put here to do what we want to do; we're put here to do what needs to be done." Then she changed into her glitzy stage clothes, hair, and makeup so we could get our pictures, and we went on our way. Shortly thereafter, I returned to the piano bench at my home church—something I thought I would never do.

It's strange when you think about it—how someone I met only once could lead me, with just a few words, back to the service I was called to. As much as anything I've ever experienced, that afternoon demonstrated, for me, that God really does put us in each other's paths. I had jumped at the chance to interview Pastor Caesar because I wanted to hear about her music. But in the process, she reconnected me with mine.

Another sign of our strange times—being physically separated just heightens our awareness of how spiritually and emotionally connected we are. 

I'm thankful, this morning, for the ties that bind.

 

Comments

[Ginger Parsons]

Yes Lord ,Yes!!!

[Valerie Luesse]

Love you, Ging!