I spent weeks at my grandparents’ farm in the summer and am reminded of the crackling sound of the radio whining out some of those ancient spiritual songs of woe. I guess you could call them the blues of the country. Grandma would sing along and the old Border collie often joined her with howls of his own. The songs permeated the air and often prompted me outside, but they remain a steadfast memory.  Even today, when urging our dog into his kennel, I sing, “Swing Lo, Sweet Chariot,” as he hangs his head low, knowing he’s going to be cooped up for a while.

I wonder how God feels when He hears our cries for help. He tells us to pray without ceasing, but it must be a terrible noise at times – a great cacophony of millions of prayers and songs of sadness and hope.   The cool thing is that He can hear each and every voice and He answers all of them in His own time and way. I am so glad His patience allows me the opportunity to raise my voice to Him.

Thank you, dear Father, for opening the door to your office and giving me the assurance that you are always “in” to hear me.  You have opened that door with your Son, Jesus, who made it all possible.  Help me to sing songs that are pleasing to your ears.  Amen

Lamentations 3:55-57 “I called on your name, O LORD, from the depths of the pit; you heard my plea, ‘Do not close your ear to my cry for help! You came near when I called on you; you said, ‘Do not fear!’