Some family background may help to more fully appreciate the significance of these two songs. Both my parents were born and raised in Indiana but met and married far from home. My father was an Army sergeant stationed in what was the territory of Alaska, and my mother was working at the same base as a civilian. Their much-anticipated travel adventures, which included two years stationed in Taiwan, were unfortunately overshadowed by recurring financial challenges and a gradual breakdown of trust, traced back in hindsight to my father’s gambling addiction. I was born about eight years into their unstable marriage, which, after another military separation, ended in divorce. Not surprisingly, my mother and I received little reliable financial support and no further communication from my father. More of their story can be found in the “You Belong to Me” blog entry.
A few old photos of my mother in her younger years and early married days show her smiling and looking happy, but I only knew her as a single parent dealing with severe personal trauma. Attempting to bury her grief and move on, partially out of necessity, mom never sought any outside help to deal with her painful memories and deep losses; all of her anger lived just below the surface. She wanted to be known and understood but tended to push others away with a bitter edge of cynicism and hurtful words. Someone once called her an “enigma,” and she seemed to almost intentionally make it impossible for anyone to understand her or do things right, a self-fulfilling prophecy I later called “the game.” Mom worked very hard and sacrificed greatly to provide for me, and she encouraged and enjoyed the music I brought into her life, but she was unable to be emotionally present or find lasting inner peace. Even after decades as a devoted church choir member and attending innumerable services and concerts, she somehow missed the invitation for a personal relationship with the God who created the music that gave her those moments of comfort.
After I had experienced God’s love and responded to Jesus’ sacrifice, I attempted many times and in many ways to share my faith with mom, but it never seemed to penetrate her deep inner pain. It was as if she had closed the door on life, resolving to never truly feel or trust again, and even God was kept at a distance; it was truly heartbreaking for me. Early on in my Christian life, I felt the Lord strongly impress on my heart that she would know Him when she died, and I continued to hang onto that assurance for the next 35 years without seeing much change. At age 91, mom suffered a major stroke, accompanied by a broken ankle, and passed away six days later in a peaceful hospice facility. During that final week, though on high doses of medication but still able to hear my prayers and words of encouragement, I believe she met our faithful God, “knowing Him when she died" and was finally able to let go of the pain she had carried for so long.
As I pondered writing a song for mom a few months later, what came to mind was the scripture verse about God turning our mourning into dancing. Even though I had never witnessed much outward joy (or dancing!) in her life, mom’s song took shape as an Israeli dance, which seemed especially appropriate knowing that she was once again free to use both legs! Just lately, I also recalled that we had once heard a similar style of folk music in Czechoslovakia, her ancestors’ birthplace. The character and instrumentation of “Joy Comes in the Morning,” right down to the out-of-tune piano/hammered dulcimer, reminds me of that Czech group’s simple and exuberant sound. The text, from Psalm 30, is about a healing miracle: King David says that God brought him back from the brink of death, breaking through to transform his “wailing into a whirling dance of ecstatic praise! He has torn the veil and lifted from me the sad heaviness of mourning. He wrapped me in the glory garments of gladness” (Psalm 30:11, The Passion Translation). I rejoice to know that mom is now finally free of the darkness and weight of this world!
I have no conscious memories of my father since he left when I was very young, and his absence was seldom acknowledged or discussed in our home. A few photos from other family members and mom’s written memories came much later in life to fill in his story. He married and divorced again, struggling with alcohol in addition to gambling, leaving a second wife and another child. At the end of my junior year of college, I got the sad news that, at only 51 years old, he had taken his own life. On one hand, it was like hearing about the death of a stranger, while on the other, it felt like the tragic end to a very personal story that had already touched my life: the mysterious father who had disappeared and was now gone forever. Of course, it raised many unexpected emotions and unanswered questions, but overall, what remained was a profound sadness that I would never have the chance to share the love of God with him, the strong love that had lifted me out of my own pit of despair. My childhood father void has continued to be quite significant throughout my adult life, yet, God is/has been my help and strength.
About six months after mom’s death, someone shared Psalm 88 with me, one of the darkest and saddest psalms in the Bible. Shortly thereafter, when encouraged in a grief group to creatively express my feelings of loss, God used some of those verses to birth a song for my father. “Hope, Sight, and Freedom” contrasts the feelings of hopelessness that I imagine might have led to my father’s suicide with the hope-filled message that I wish I could have shared with him. The dark psalm text, set in a minor key, is overpowered by the earliest recorded words of Jesus: “The kingdom of God has come near.” Isaiah’s prophecy follows: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me,” which Jesus boldly quoted to announce His holistic healing mission of salvation. Finally, in a major key, the encouraging words of Isaiah promise a Light that comes to those in darkness and a Son whose kingdom has no end. The birth of the Messiah brought hope for the poor, sight for the blind, and freedom for the captives, all of which remain in full and powerful effect for the rest of eternity. Though I never had the opportunity to share that transformational news with my father, the process of creating his song has brought healing to my heart.
As a child, of course, I was not consciously aware of the severe lack of emotional health and nurture in my home, nor of the downward forces pulling toward despair. But I am eternally grateful for the miraculous way God raised me up and out of that situation and helped me find a new perspective and focus for my life. I loved my mother with the strength God gave, and I thank Him for the family of origin that He chose for me – it was the path that led me to Him. I honor the Lord and the memory of both of my parents with these songs. As you listen, I pray that you will experience hope and joy, knowing that Jesus’ coming into any situation, no matter how dark it may seem, can bring new life!
("Joy Comes in the Morning" and "Hope, Sight, and Freedom" can be found on the album, "The Wonders You Have Done")
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