Member-only story
The never-ending work of fixing me
Making peace with my imperfections.
My way may not be easy. You did not say that it would be…Lord, help me hold out. Until my change has come…
I sit in the parked car listening to the radio for 20 minutes because the words take me back. My over-fifty brain immediately recognizes the melody despite the different background arrangement to this 1973 Black gospel song. I ready my voice to respond with the lyrics.
A few minutes earlier
My whole body responds to the flow of the broadcast church service. I have tuned in during the convocation prayer, and the pastor’s ending words, “Bless this nation,” resonate with me. The choir director’s smooth transition with the slow song “Just for me” has me thinking, Is this moment just for me?
Next, the James Cleveland classic “Lord, help me to hold out” triggers a childhood memory of children’s choir doing our innocent—little could we fathom the problems of adulthood—rendition with the church’s grandmothers murmuring throughout, “Yes, Lord.” Then, I know that this moment is…
