Most of us would say that our scrapbooks and photo albums are among our most prized possessions. These are filled with treasured memories of people we love. They’re priceless. Irreplaceable.
Somewhere, somehow there’s a moment waiting for you to teach your child a hymn.
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For us, in addition to the photos we cherish, some of our best memories are wrapped in the unforgettable strains of music — hymns that we were taught by caring musical encouragers … people who loved us, held us and sang to us.
On the late night shores of the Chesapeake Bay, a crackling fire sending sparks heavenward like fireflies and our arms squeezed around our knees to protect us from the chill, a hymn-loving daddy begins to sing. My sisters and I join in.
This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears,
All nature sings and ’round me rings, the music of the spheres.
I loved my daddy more than a little girl could express, but to think that my heavenly Father sprinkled the dark sky with a countless panoply of stars filled me with wonder. The words helped me to love Him, to appreciate His creation and to respect my country.
From her Virginia farmhouse kitchen, my grandma would dish up hymns alongside coconut cake and red Jello. After dinner, the spot next to her on the piano bench was mine. Her hands glided across the keys; her voice strong.
Take my life and let it be,
Consecrated, Lord, to thee.
That was what I wanted, too. I wanted to love God like she loved Him. I wanted to grow up to be just like her. So I learned the words and sang along.
Today every time we sing a hymn, our voices are thumbing through our priceless musical collections. We hear our daddy’s voice, and we feel our grandma’s touch. We’re surrounded by these people who matter to us, people who invested in us, celebrated with us and sang to us. Precious people who wait in Heaven for us to join them.
When we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun,
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than we’ve first begun.
Somewhere, somehow there’s a moment waiting for you to teach your child a hymn. It may be in the car, while you chop vegetables, sitting on the porch rocker or at a holiday table. Years from now, the memories you’re creating with your children may become life-altering memories. The lyrics of hymns that you sing with them will give them hope in the years to come.
— Bobbie Wolgemuth and Joni Eareckson Tada
Adapted from Focus on the Family’s new book Hymns for a Kid's Heart by Joni Eareckson Tada and Bobbie Wolgemuth, copyright 2003. Used by permission of Crossway Books, a division of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Illinois.
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