I’m a hummer. It probably stems from the fact that I love music, but can never remember all the words to a song. So, I just hum.
Not always, but often. I hum when I’m driving, when I’m walking through the grocery store, when I’m in the garden, or even doing a mindless home-making task.
Sometimes it’s a familiar tune – maybe a tune I heard on the radio or sang in church. A song that just gets stuck in my head and my heart. Sometimes I even catch myself humming the little ditty that my dryer sings when it’s finished drying my clothes. Other times it’s just a little nonsensical tune I make up in my head.
One song that comes up quite often in my humming repertoire is Gene Kelly’s old classic, “Singing in the Rain.” I have no explanation for why. It just does.
I find it especially endearing when I hear my sweet mom putting her thoughts to music. She can’t hear worth a lick, so can’t really listen to music, but sometimes, I hear her sweetly humming or softly singing little songs she makes up. She might be rearranging her drawers, putting away her colored pencils, or just singsongingly willing one foot in front of the other as she ventures to the next place her feet and walker will take her.
Maybe that’s why the tune to “Singing in the Rain” comes to my subconscious hummer so often these days. Though the storm clouds of life are doing their best to drench us with sadness, if we look hard enough, there is always something to sing about. Some little glimmer of joy peeking through the clouds of life to rejoice in.
I’m sick today, having succumbed to some sort of virus; Mom has something too. This morning started out a little rough, with me wanting to crawl right back into bed after a full night of sleep. Resisting that urge, I went downstairs to mom’s room and found her sitting in her room more than a little confused, wondering who stole her clothes. After helping her “find” the clothes, I fixed her favorite breakfast of a half sandwich, a few chips (please don’t judge), and a sliced banana. We sat together for awhile at the kitchen table looking out of the window, enjoying the birds flitting around in the snowscape and laughing as they were startled into flight when big clumps of snow fell from the branches of a nearby tree. There it was – that little glimmer of joy.
As I walk my mother ‘Home’ in this rainy season of her life – the season called Alzheimer’s – I pray we’ll always be able to find a reason to sing in the rain.