Worry is for the birds

Singing has always been a part of my life because my mother was a singer. My mother sang in our church choir and in a ladies’ barbershop group called Sweet Adelines. She sang around the house. We sang in the car on the way to visit my grandparents’ house. (no iPads) We played a game where we named a word and challenged my mother to sing a song with that word in it. She always won.

We didn’t have a youth choir at our church. The director invited me to sing with the adults when I was in my early teens. That experience helped me learn how to sing my alto part. At a choir rehearsal one evening, someone said, “It’s a shame we don’t have a children’s choir.”

Every head turned and looked at me. Suddenly, I was the director of a children’s choir. 

I started as a counselor at a Christian summer camp when I was 15. The staff got together and sang. We formed a touring choir that went from church to church on Sunday evenings during the school year. In high school, I sang with the choir and in an ensemble group called “The Double Dozen.” We performed musicals in our junior and senior years. I sang in my college choir and in the choir at seminary. It was the first choir I ever knew that had more men than women.

At the church I helped to start, I led children’s musicals. I think our favorite children’s musical was called “100% Chance of Rain.” The children wore their raincoats and carried umbrellas. It was a big hit. It seemed that it rained every time we rehearsed. I remember the words to this day.

Retirement brought big changes to my singing life. I had my mother to look after. We attended a church without a choir. My husband and I sang for Christmas and Easter with the Methodist church’s music program for our dose of music.

The pandemic brought group singing to a halt. Some people got creative and figured out how to sing together via Zoom, but my heart wasn’t in it. My husband’s health crashed and he has required memory care since 2020. My mother passed away in 2021. It was a difficult and lonely time for me. I was at loose ends musically and in other ways too.

One evening a couple of years ago, I was sitting with two musical friends with our glasses of wine. I was lamenting my condition. One said, “Why don’t you come back to choir?” I did and have been singing with them ever since. My voice and music reading were so rusty that I almost gave up. I now serve as choir chaplain, leading the devotions at rehearsals.

For a recent devotional, I read Mary Oliver’s poem, “I Worried.”

I worried a lot.

Will the garden grow, will the rivers flow in the right direction, will the earth turn as it was taught, and if not how shall I correct it?

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows can do it and I am, well, hopeless.

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it, am I going to get rheumatism, lockjaw, dementia?

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.

And gave it up.

And took my old body and went out into the morning, and sang.

We all have everyday worries. We also have big worries for the tensions in our country and the propensity to resort to violence, for all those who are marginalized, for countries torn by war, for the economy and for the future for our children and grandchildren.

The simple and profound poem reminded me of verses of comfort from the gospels in the Christian Scriptures:

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows. (Matthew 10: 29,31, NRSVUE)

One of the hymns my mom sang as a solo was: “His Eye is on the Sparrow.” It is an old-fashioned hymn, but she loved it and trusted its message. We sang it as a hymn at her memorial. Here are a few of the lyrics:

Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,

Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heaven and home,

When Jesus is my portion? My constant friend is He:

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

The troubles around us are real. Don’t let them steal your song. Go out in the world and sing.

After all, worry is for the birds.