Musical Memories

When my parents built their house (I was like 4), they built a special alcove right at the top of the stairs to the basement for my mom’s piano. That piano’s seen a lot. It’s the same one my brother and I practiced on for piano lessons in elementary and, in my case, high school. But it also plays a big role in some of my favorite memories of growing up. As a child, I can often remember falling asleep to the sound of my mom playing the piano while my dad sang along. Gaither Trio and Vocal Band songs were her favorites. Actually, my mom taught me to sing soprano with an old Gaither Trio book. She’d sit down at the piano, open up the book, and off we’d go—mom singing the alto, me the soprano, song after song until we’d sung through most of the book. I don’t hear any of those songs much these days, but if I’m home and she pulls out that book, it all comes flooding back.

My mom and dad still stand around that piano and sing. Sometimes, when we’re both there, my brother and I join in with soprano and bass, a makeshift family band. But sometimes when I hear her playing and my dad singing, I just hang back in my bedroom at the back of the house and listen. And it’s beautiful, at least to my loving ears.

As long as I can remember, my dad’s song has been “Beulah Land.” He used to sing it in church all the time. He often sings it at funerals these days. I’ve heard Southern Gospel groups sing it, renowned musicians take a stab, even performed it with a choir, but for me, nothing can top my dad singing it, simply and plaintively, accompanied only by my mom on the piano, as the day fades away and I drift off to sleep.

In the last few weeks, that song has come to my mind again and again. It talks about a homesickness for heaven, which I honestly haven’t always felt that strongly. But after being in Russia, praising God with brothers and sisters I may never see again on this earth, thinking about my grandfathers, and working through the grief of my uncle’s death while I was in Russia (he had cancer) my homesickness for “a land I’ve never seen before” has grown. What a reunion, not only with those I’ve lost here, but also with my Father! These days I’m realizing that this place really isn’t my home and that there’s something so spectacular waiting for me. I can’t help but be a little homesick.