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| shirlihughesandovation.org |
Our speaker was Shirli Hughes, a DC area singer and spiritual leader who comes from the African Methodist Episcopal tradition. Shirli had coached several members of the church into singing in a gospel choir style, brought some of her own singers, drew the congregation into song and shared some of her story with us. She talked about points in her life when she had lost her song, when darkness and challenges brought her to the point of not being able to sing. She tied together the themes of a crisis of health, of burn out at work, of song that came from slavery, of the journey of being a stranger in a strange land. Singing, she said, singing is what gets you through.
My eyes filled at the 'stranger in a strange land' imagery. As someone who has enjoyed the familiarity of a lifetime in the same part of the world, and an entire adulthood in the same community, even this wonderful new land is strange. I cling to the things that bring me comfort: our art collection on the walls, music that has accompanied me through phases of life (yes, I do have lots of Joni Mitchell on vinyl) a lamp that we bought when we first married. But Shirli has made me wonder, has made me face a painful question about my own song. Where is it? She told stories about her mother and grandmother, bringing to mind my own grandmothers, and their search for their own songs.
| Anna as a young woman |
Anna Harder Plett came to America in the early 1900s as part of a Mennonite Brethren colony from the Russian Ukraine. She was educated and accustomed to a simple but comfortable life, but it wasn't long before she found herself married to a dirt-poor farmer in Kansas, raising eleven children in a strange land. I never heard her tell this story, but my mother tells me that Anna was often so distraught that she would wake up in the morning crying, and would sing hymns as she cared for her children and household, sing hymns until she could stop crying.
| Kiyoko in her 90s |
Kiyoko Miyake was born to a Presbyterian Minister in Japan in the late 1800s, was educated and lived a genteel life until hardship came to that country. As a young woman she emigrated to California as a picture bride - betrothed to a man she had never met. He turned out to be considerably older than she, uneducated and working as a farm laborer. At that time it was against the law for Japanese immigrants to own property. They were also strangers in a strange land. She worked hard to cook for a camp full of laborers, bore seven children, and was eventually able to buy a small farm with her husband. In her nineties Kiyoko would tell me stories of her life as I sat, literally, at her feet. Sometimes life was so hard, she said, that she would wake up crying, and would sing hymns as she carried out her work, sing hymns until she could stop crying.
How can we sing when life is hard? This morning Shirli reframed this question that we sometimes ask ourselves in dark times. How, she asked, can we not sing?
Anna and Kiyoko are buried quite close to each other in our hometown cemetery. I hope that in some way that I do not yet understand they are able to meet each other, share stories with each other, sing together. I hope I can sing with them one day, too.
My Life Flows On In Endless Song . . .
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5BifkC92nT8
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