Why Mammas Need to Sing More (plus a little giveaway)

I don’t know what makes me do it. 
There is the steady snapping of the bean tips. The breeze stirring our hair. The blue of the sky and that honey sun.  He is sitting with me and we are working—only not hard. And I am thinking of my grandma. How she had nine of these—children—and how she must have needed every single one in the grit of that farm she and grandpa worked. How many beans had she snapped? And something in that cool smooth green makes me homesick. Homesick for a place I’ve never been.
And I don’t know what makes me do it, but I start to sing. I sing the song that held me during those long days in the hospital. The song that brought the breath of God into the pain until peace walked hand-in-hand with fear. 
I’ve never known that kind of fear. I’ve never known that kind of peace.
On Sunday the Pastor preached from Mark 6 where Jesus tells his disciples to, Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest—and I know this is the rest he gives… this kind of peace that can cover fear. 
So I’m thinking all these things, trying to hold on to the gift I was given then and remembering the sour face of my grandmother—how her table was always full—and the song just comes. And I notice how he grows so still—like a deer listening for the sound of danger—and then his whole body seems to melt into the sky and the meadow grass and the air around us. 
And he starts to sing too. 
Soon, we are trading songs like conversation. We pass an hour this way—this thirteen-year-old boy and his mamma. Just sitting out back, stringing green beans, and singing. I think about that study that psychologist did—the one that found that sad songs are more popular today than they were in the 1960s and 70s. And I listen to these silly lyrics my boy has memorized and I wonder. 
I like the way it feels to give the wind my voice and he must too because he lifts his high. And as I’m singing with my boy, I remember. I remember there was a time when I would sing more—a time when they wanted me to—when their cheeks were round and full and I was their world. I remember bedtime lullabies and prayers sung and the way a song could change a moment. And I remember that little neighbor girl he loved so much—the one who would come over every day to play. I remember how she stood wide-eyed with wonder in my kitchen one day as I made music with my voice. How she shadowed me for hours after. 
And I watch my boy close his eyes and throw his head back—toss his voice out over that meadow. In this moment he is showing me his heart and I…
I think to myself…I need to sing more.
I’m giving away a copy of this cd:
Audrey’s songs have ministered to me in the sweetest of ways. Just leave a comment on this post before Monday to be entered for a chance to win. If you want to tweet or FB, let me know in another comment for another chance to win. I hope these songs make you wanna sing…

With Michelle, Jen, Jennifer, and Emily today. Love my sisters.You should go visit them.


  1. says

    I can see the two of you in my mind’s eye – voices lifted to the sky. There is definitely something about singing – and doing it with a son – just magical.

  2. says

    Oh, Laura, this brings tears.

    But I’ll be honest. We have a new grandbaby, this week, and she is far away, and so, just about everything brings tears.

    Which is not meant to detract from the perfect beauty of this moment you’ve written.

    Thank you, Friend.

  3. says

    Love your voice in the stories you write, it takes me to a place of peace and as Ann says, peace is a person not a place. You take me to Him, every time. I’ve never heard of that artist. Love finding new ones.

  4. says

    Your words? Made me want to sing, too, for the grace here, the tender celebration of life lifted in voice, and of motherhood. Thanks for these crafted, beautiful words.

  5. says

    Ah, a contest. I remember meeting this really special and talented lady over a contest…

    Miss Laura, I’ve not heard this singer, but if you are tootin’ her horn, she must be good. And this stuff you do with your boys, you inspire me.


  6. elaina says

    Homesick for a place I’ve never been…and being their only world…and remembering when they want you to sing…(sigh) wow. Have I mentioned just how much I appreciate your gift? XO B-)

  7. says

    Oh, Laura. The tears sting and heal at the same time. This is just reamrkable, just remarkable. I haven’t had a new CD if far too long, so sure, I’m up for the giveaway. But mostly I want to say thank you for this sweet, sweet sharing here. I used to sing a lot, too. Used to. And I miss it. Thank you for the call to do it.

  8. says

    I’d never heard of this artist before today. I don’t normally listen to Christian music; I don’t know why except that’s it’s just never really taken hold. I love the hymns of my childhood, and I love them live, but I pretty much just turn to Merle Haggard when I’m hurting. If there were a soundtrack to my life, he would sing it. This girl Audrey does have a lovely voice, though.

  9. says

    I love that even though the women at the tomb were afraid, they were still filled with joy. Our fear, our pain, our worries – nothing can steal what the Holy Spirit has placed deep inside our souls!

  10. says

    Laura, if I didn’t know you, I’d never know Audrey Assad had a new CD out. Her music is so powerful. (and this post was beautiful….)
    As a worship team vocalist I’ve usually got one song or another going through my head. Thanks for the reminder.

  11. says

    “The kind of peace that can cover fear” this so resonates with me and it is only the peace God can give us, thank you. A lovely post and I think how beautiful to sit and sing with your 13yr old son and so rare to hear of such an activity. Rare but beautiful. Behind The Smile.

  12. says

    Oh, I cherish singing to the little ones – now, they’re my grandchildren. Just this evening, my older one, a toddler boy, and I were belting out Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, Itsy, Bitsy Spider, and Jesus Loves me. Precious moments. Singing does a heart good.

  13. says

    The song that brought the breath of God into the pain until peace walked hand-in-hand with fear.

    oh laura. i love to sing to my boys. and i hate the thought that one day they might not want me to sing to them anymore, so this encourages me more than you know. and your writing, it soars…

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