“This Is My Father’s World” is an old hymn I learned as a child. I remember being very proud of myself when I learned a few verses of this hymn and “Jesus Loves Me.” Around the same time, I also memorized the prayer Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep. All three have served me very well in my life.
I was born with asthma, and at the time, my parents weren’t aware of any medication for this ailment. Many evenings during my childhood, I stayed awake, trying to breathe. The Vicks Vapor Rub and the whine of the vaporizer near my face did little to calm my fear that I would not wake up if I fell asleep.
On those dark nights when breathing was near impossible, I would rock back and forth on all fours repeating monotonously, “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.”
I discovered the rhythm of the prayer with the rocking would regulate my breathing, and I found a peace that if I did not survive the night, I would awake in God’s arms.
I was seventeen when I finally outgrew asthma, but I never forgot the little prayer, which I believe saved me more nights than I can fathom.
Most of us know “Jesus Loves Me.” It is probably one of the first songs a preschooler is taught. I can’t sing a note, but when I was little, I sure thought I could and would belt this song loudly and proudly while causing discomfort to all the others Jesus loved.
How many times in my life have I thought I was alone and unloved? Those days when my battles with depression took my soul into the depths of despair, causing me to question why I should continue. Those troubling moments when I felt as if I failed and hope seemed unattainable.
Yet, somewhere, in the recesses of my heart and mind, I could hear the little girl joyously belting out, “Yes, Jesus Loves Me!”
My friend attended a preschool Christmas program to hear her little granddaughter sing. Afterward, I asked her how “Miss Precious” did.
“Well, she belted the song out of tune, oblivious to the fact that she is probably not a small version of Taylor Swift. However, she sang with complete abandon and joy!”
Isn’t that really all that matters?
The last verse of “This Is My Father’s World” rings in my ears today:
This is my Father’s world:
He shines in all that’s fair;
In the rustling grass, I hear him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.
When I reflect over the last six years and realize just how different my life is from what it was, I often ask myself, how did that happen?
I retired from a career, wrote a story that transpired into weekly columns, which turned into books, and met fabulous folks. And, trust me, I write not for the money because it is very little, but for the words ringing in my ears and for hearing the rustling in the grass. And I wonder why.
Memories flood my mind with things I had long forgotten, and I see folks I once knew long ago as clearly as if they were here today, and I wonder why.
When I see injustice, intolerance, and lack of respect, I get angry enough to write about how God is not tolerant of any of it, and I wonder why I have no fear of doing so.
It is because I live in God’s world and among His people. I write because I still can’t sing a note, but I am still the girl who joyously, thankfully, belts out words because I believe.
I am no saint. I am not a zealot or a preacher, and, ask my friends, I am a terrible listener. However, I do hear the whispers of the Lord who gave me a prayer to ease my fear, a song to tell me I am loved, and a Father whose world sends me stories to write.
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Lynn Walker Gendusa is a regular columnist on NowHabersham.com. To enjoy more of her inspirational work about faith, home, family, life, and love, click here.
