About twenty years ago, I was surprised when I received a call from my pastor, as Jim very rarely called me. “It’s mama,” he said. My heart sank. Suddenly, his sweet mother, who had always been so full of life, was gone. Jim was pastor of the little United Methodist church in Tarboro, NC, but a few decades earlier, his father was pastor of the same church, so their ties to that community ran deep. Consequently, this service would be a big one, and he wanted to let me know about it as soon as possible. “I really hate to ask,” he said, “but is there any way there could be a choir? She loved it so much.” Of course there would be.

Spirit-led, I was instantly in mind of a sermon he had preached only a short time earlier, in which he described songs we sing when no one is listening as private devotions. An example he gave was of his mom vacuuming the house while humming “Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me.” I knew that hymn had to be sung at her service, so I wrote an arrangement for the choir, ending with the congregation being invited to join in, humming the melody a cappella. When I turned around from the choir to invite the congregation to join, I inadvertently locked eyes with Jim. I was an emotional wreck, but I also knew that we had appropriately honored his mom. Her song, even though she was no longer able to sing it, carried on.

Fast forward to a couple of years ago, Mother’s Day. My wife and I were hosting a dinner for family, including my mom and her mother. My sweet Nana was riddled with dementia at this point, and she didn’t always remember my name. In fact, despite having been there before, when she got to my house, she complimented my sister on it, thinking it was hers. At some point, she wandered into the front of the house, where our piano sat. Sheepishly, she came back to the kitchen and said, “That’s a really pretty piano. Do you think I could play it?” I replied, “I hope you will!” For around half an hour, she played songs stored in the depths of her brain for us like she had looked at the sheet music just yesterday. When she ran out of pieces she remembered, I said, “I’m looking for some hymns for you to play.” “OH! You want hymns?” she replied, and then played on several minutes longer.

We store music so deeply in our brains that it becomes part of us. Music therapy is central to dementia care for this reason. Even for those who are lucky enough to escape the grip of that terrible disease, the songs of their lives echo even after they have forgotten other things. Case in point - I remember the quadratic equation is “x=(-b±√b2-4ac)/2a,” but I have long forgotten what the quadratic equation does. (Apologies to my algebra teacher Mrs. Blackburn.) Anyway, my point is that because music has this power, we must consider what songs we are filling our lives with. When we are humming a tune while no one else is around, what are the tunes that resonate in our souls? When we near the end of our lives, will the songs that continue to echo be songs that glorify God?

God, you give us the miracle of storing music deep in the recesses of our minds. Let us fill those recesses with songs that praise you so that always, in everything, we give you thanks. Amen.

This devotion was written and read by Dwight Dockery.

Grace for All is a daily devotional podcast produced by the members of the congregation of First United Methodist Church in Maryville, Tennessee. With these devotionals, we want to remind listeners on a daily basis of the love and grace that God extends to all human beings, no matter their location, status, or condition in life.

If you would like to respond to these devotionals in any way, we would enjoy hearing from you. Our email address is: podcasts@1stchurch.org.

First United Methodist Church is a lively, spirit-filled congregation whose goal is to spread the message of love and grace into our community and throughout the world. We are located on the web at https://1stchurch.org/.