April 28, 2007
In times of trouble or in troubled times, sing your heart out.
I learned this truth from my grandmother, and I am glad I did. I need soulful singing. You do, too, even if you think you “can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”
Singing can keep us on an even keel despite whatever sadness may befall us.
Singing can take away pain, bring smiles, and soothe mental distress. Sing when you are in pain, sing when you are sad, or sing when your heart is torn in two. By all means, sing when you are happy.
If you do not want to sing or cannot for whatever reason, then at least hum or whistle.
My grandmother believed that nothing works to improve a mood quite like a song.
Listen to someone else who shares this philosophy.
Jenny Ruth Yasi wrote an article all about the joys and power of singing in the February 1993 edition of “Mothering” magazine. She wrote, “Singing is as natural to human beings as it is to birds and whales. In fact, it’s as unhealthy to hold back a tune as it is to hold back a sneeze or a laugh.”
She continues, “Singing disguises my worst moments and injects lightness and humor into what might otherwise be occasions for ranting and raving. Singing when she’s happy, singing when she’s sad. I inherited it from my mother. Singing when it is going good, singing when it’s bad. See? It’s almost magic. And it is a habit that kept me reasonably charming as a wife and mother when I could just as easily be tearing my hair out.”
By singing to our children or grandchildren, we are teaching them to find joy in even the most difficult of situations or in the most ordinary.
When my siblings and I would get off the school bus after a long ride down our country road, we would enter the house to hear my grandmother humming, singing, or maybe even playing the piano. She sang while she washed dishes. She sang while she cooked. She sang while she did the laundry.
My sister and I picked up the practice of singing while washing dishes and turned it into a fun evening spent at the sink. We harmonized, sang rounds, and imagined full Broadway production numbers in our heads. The day might have been a disaster, but we always sang while we washed and dried the dishes.
When my own kids were little, I sang every song I could remember while I rocked them to sleep. Sometimes it was songs from church youth fellowship days, sometimes cheers and chants from high school pep club, and sometimes it was rousing college fight songs.
I hope no one else was listening except the kids.
The little guys looked at me in wonder, not sure what the singing was all about, but it worked. They fell asleep, and I had a lovely trip down memory lane in the process.
Jenny Ruth Yasi sang to her kids and watched the magic happen as her song transformed them from sadness to lightheartedness with this song, “I don’t know why I love you like I do. I don’t know why I just do.” Grins and chuckles ensued.
With my little ones and now with my grandchildren, I sing this song: “I love you a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck. You bet your silly neck I do.”
Then they get a big hug around the neck. Guaranteed to bring smiles and giggles.
The best part is it makes me smile, too, no matter how low I might feel.
Songs cannot make bad times go away, but they can help us feel better.
As Jenny Ruth Yasi wrote, “Some tunes I’ve had to sing over and over before managing to work out the lump in my throat.”
The late Al Fike, agreed, “Sing. It won’t hurt you; it will help you. Even if you are dressed up.”
