The Sound of Angel Choirs

I’ve never been much of a singer.  I sing in church.  But most of my singing is reserved for the car when I’m driving by myself.

I visited my mom this evening.  She’s 89, and has Alzheimer’s type dementia.  She has become increasingly non-verbal in the past year or so to the point where most days if she says, “Oh yeah,” or “Oh hey,” that’s pretty good communication for her.

She was just finishing her dinner this evening when I arrived.  I pulled up a chair next to her and rubbed her arm, and said, “Hi Mom.”  I reminded her that I am Ruth.  Her daughter.  Her favorite daughter.  To which she sometimes smiles, evidence of just the tiniest shred of humor. Still.  Tonight she didn’t respond to anything I said.  I gave her a kiss on the forehead, and started telling her about my day.

Mom was shaky tonight.  I’ve been told this is a side effect of some of her medicines. She was mumbling, but nothing I could understand.  Just random sounds.  The brain misfiring.

After a little while I asked if she wanted us to pray, and she said, “Well yeah.”  So we prayed.  We acknowledged the gift of salvation through Jesus, and the comforting breath of the Holy Spirit.  We thanked God for loving us and providing for us always.  Then we finished by saying the Lords’ Prayer together.  I spoke it.  Mom sat with her eyes closed, silently moving her lips.

After the Amen, she started to hum.  I didn’t recognize the tune.  I asked if she wanted us to sing together, and she said, “Yeah.”

I leaned in close, with  my forehead touching hers, and very softly—because I’ve never been much of a singer—I started to sing the Doxology.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

We’d sung it hundreds of times growing up.  At church functions and at home gatherings. Mom and Dad had sung it together sitting on the loveseat in their living room the night before Dad died.

Praise Him all creatures here below.

Mom had her eyes closed again.  The shaking was starting to subside.  She folded her hands over her chest, and hummed along.

Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts.

She was starting to harmonize.  I waited for a second, forcing back tears.  Waiting for my voice to return.

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

When she took a deep breath, I started to sing it again.  Mom continued to hum along in harmony.  Still resting her head against mine.

And I knew in that moment that she was worshipping. Her brain is limited in what it can connect with.  But her spirit isn’t.  And right in this moment, she was worshipping.  I knew it.

I think we were on the fifth or sixth time through the verse when the realization hit me. That Mom’s singing, that our singing together, was being received right at that very moment.  By the One for whom it was intended.  As a gift of worship.  And even though it was just me singing quietly, and Mom humming along in harmony, I’m pretty sure that in Heaven it was being heard as the sound of angel choirs.  Singing praises.