Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: SING (08/16/18)
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TITLE: Attention in the Front Row | Previous Challenge Entry
By Karen Dick
08/23/18 -
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Every summer I got to stay at my grandparent’s farm, and every Sunday we attended church. Grandma loved to sit in the front row. She said God could hear her sing better there. I’m not sure about that, but I’m sure everyone else could hear her just fine.
“Why don’t you sing in the choir, Grandma?” I took her hand as we left the church that day and slowly descended the front steps. She held tightly to me while also gripping the railing.
“I don’t need to be in a group to sing to the Lord, Child. I love to sing from my heart.”
Grandpa chuckled as he followed us. “Yep, Ellie, your Grandma sings in any way and at any time she wants.”
***
When we arrived at home, Grandma pulled on her apron.
“Ellie, you set the table while I get the chicken ready for frying.”
She removed the chicken from the refrigerator and positioned it on the wooden counter. She clutched a cleaver with one hand. It descended violently onto the defenseless dead chicken. Liquid splattered the counter, window and Grandma’s glasses. I leaned in to watch the dismemberment of this bird that would soon be our dinner.
Grandpa walked through the kitchen and toward the back door. “Esther, be careful. Remember your heart.” The screen door slammed behind him as he walked toward the barn.
Grandma shook her head and placed the weapon down. She wiped her glasses with the edge of her apron and glanced at me. “Ellie, why don’t you sing a song while I get this chicken ready?”
“I don’t know any good songs, Grandma.” I selected the flatware from a kitchen drawer and glanced at her.
“The Lord loves for us to sing to him, Child.”
She gripped the cleaver once again as she pushed her glasses back on her nose. A hymn we had sung at church flowed from her mouth as the chicken was cut to pieces.
As I set the utensils at each place, I hummed along while Grandma sang in all her glory.
Grandma’s singing abruptly stopped. There was a loud thud. My breath caught when I turned and saw her on the floor. I fell onto my knees beside her. My hand shook as I took hers in mine.
“Grandma, can you hear me?”
“Child, go get Grandpa,” she whispered.
My heart beat wildly as I ran toward the barn.
“Grandpa, come quick. It’s Grandma.” Tears filled my eyes as I watched Grandpa hobble toward me.
When we entered the kitchen, Grandma lay still.
“Esther.” Grandpa leaned over and with great effort, kneeled to the floor beside her.
Grandma spoke softly. “The angels are singing over me, Albert.”
“That might be so, but let’s get you to the hospital.”
***
Every day we visited Grandma. The nurses attempted to keep an oxygen mask on her face making breathing easier, but she pushed it off every time I arrived.
“That thing gets in my way.” Though her voice was weak, she smiled.
I sat at her side and held her hand.
“Sing to me, Child.” I glanced at Grandpa and shrugged. With a slight grin, he nodded.
While I tried to think of a song to sing, Grandma began. In a shaky voice she sang,
I’ll Fly Away.
I hummed along since I didn’t know the words, but with a glance at Grandpa, a lump formed in my throat. His face was wet as tears trickled down his wrinkled cheeks.
A nurse entered the room and smiled at our singing. She joined in with her sweet soprano voice, and soon Grandpa’s bass merged with ours. Grandma stopped and listened.
When we finished singing, she lay real still.
Grandpa leaned in close to her. “Esther?”
Grandma opened her eyes briefly and then closed them. “The Lord is singing over me, Albert. I’m going Home.”
We said our goodbyes to Grandma that day. I know she is still singing; but maybe not in the choir with the angels. Just on her own; in any way, and at any time.
“You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance.” Psalm 32:7 (NIV)
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