Sunday Mornings

Last weekend, when my sister and I drove to Waxahachie, we were listening to southern gospel music on her satellite radio. There is nothing that speaks to me quite like that old gospel music. I think that it is in my blood.

My grandmother played the piano by ear and loved to sing. She was a strong alto. I guess I took that after her, for I’m also an alto and a piano player. One of my piano teachers was the daughter of a member of the old Stamps Baxter Quartet. Needless to say, that gospel music was what I learned to play…and play I did at women’s clubs, churches, etc. I didn’t appreciate the experience at the time because it made me so nervous, but now I am grateful for those memories. Whenever grandmother visited us she would bring sheet music and hymn books so that I could play the piano and she could sing.

On Sunday mornings when we were growing up, especially when we stayed with grandmother, we used to listen to the gospel quartets on the television as we got ready for church. Our Sunday morning sounds were the steam singing from the roast in the pressure cooker and the voices of the Statesmen Brothers, the Blackwood Brothers, and the Stamps Baxter Quartet lifted in praise. Precious memories…

O come, let us sing unto the LORD: let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation.
Psalm 95:1