Gimme that old time religion

The last couple of weeks I have been picking a "blind pick" from my CD rack before I leave for my Saturday morning commute. I had to make Saturday somehow different, since it seems the whole world is off but me. (I know that's not true) I picked one out but then I cheated and looked at it before I got in the car. I broke my own rule.

There was nothing wrong with my pick, it was good music, but this particular morning I needed more Jesus. I needed extra power. I needed a Holy Spirit infusion.

Raise the roof, clap your hands, sing at the top of your lungs praise is what I needed.

When I need that I go one of two places, Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir or the Gaithers. Well, make that three. I have to throw Sandy Patty in that line-up. This morning I chose the Gaithers. For all you "young un's" out there, if you have never heard one of their Homecoming broadcasts, you have to give a listen. You will be lifted off your feet, and I promise you will have to lift at least one hand toward Heaven.

The first song on the CD was "We Shall Rise." To my knowledge it was the only song I ever heard our Pastor at Temple Baptist Church request twice. We sang it one morning and I think it almost blew the top off the church. Instead of starting the announcements, Pastor Ken turned around and I can still see his shiny black suit and "brylcreemed hair" when he said, "I think we need to hear that one again."

I started to sing this song on the way to work but I found I couldn't squeak out a note. My throat closed up, and a fountain of tears threatened. As I listened to these grand old hymns of the faith, the remembering brought tears along with it.

I heard my other classmates sing, "Nothing but the Blood," in that upstairs room where we held Children's Church. I heard my Grandmother and her sisters voices. And I remembered when we would all get together as a family and sing hymns. I thought of how many aren't there anymore, but with Jesus now singing with the angels.

I heard the swish of choir robes as we all filed out of the choir room. I remembered Easter's and Christmases, and simpler times.

And Sunday lunch at Helwig's and Chicken on a bun.

With one hand on the wheel and one hand toward the sky.......I could almost see those Pearly Gates swing wide open. I can't remember when I had such an effortless commute. And as much as I love Christian contemporary, there is nothing wiggles quite like Southern Gospel.

And that's saying a lot for this California grown yankee gal.