Gathering around Mom V.'s grave on Monday, it was repeatedly mentioned how Mom sang hymns while she worked. A way of choosing her view.
From Laddie, by Gene Stratton Porter:
“I don’t remember that I have ever passed that house without someone singing,” he said. “Does it go on all the time?”
“Yes, unless Mother is sick.”
“And what is it all about?”
“Oh, just joy! Gladness that we are alive, that we have things to do that we like, and praising the Lord.”
“Umph!”, said Mr. Pryor.
“It’s just letting out what our hearts are full of,” I told him.
Father God, what spills out of the fullness of this heart today? May it be praisesongs. My view.
(HT: Kind Amy)
