By Michael L.
Alumbaugh, © 2016, published in May issue of Black River Times
“As a mother comforts her son, so I will
comfort you,
and you will be comforted . . .” –
Isaiah 66:13
I have many fond memories of my mother. She was my favorite pianist, singer and
best friend. I recall many times her and dad at the piano in the living room
practicing a duet for church. Sometimes I’d even sing along. I learned a lot of
hymns that way growing up.Arriving home from school, I’d usually find her reclining in an overstuffed chair reading her Bible. There I would come to her with my problems. Other times, we would share events of the day while peeling potatoes for supper. I could talk to her about anything. She would listen quietly, always with a warm and loving smile, advising or comforting as required when I was discouraged. She didn’t have a judgmental or critical bone in her body. Rather, she represented to my young heart unconditional love. Her trademark was the constant smile of contentment she wore everywhere. If I were to describe her in a word it would be “Joy!”
Dealing with a pacemaker during the last few years of her life brought complications. But she never displayed any doubt or worry regarding her final destination. She had one focus: loving her family through the power of Jesus Christ with joy.
A few months before her passing, my Bride and I announced the soon arrival of our fifth child. With the usual sparkle in her eyes and positive smile, she blessed my Bride with kind words of encouragement. Sadly, Mom would never meet that child.
Her last month was spent in the hospital. As the end grew near, the family began the preparations for her home-going. I asked her one day if she had any favorite songs or hymns she would like played at the service. (I was confident I knew all her favorites . . . but I didn’t.) After she paused a moment, she handed me her list adding, “There’s one I don’t remember the name to, but the chorus goes ‘For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings.’” I was a bit surprised. I almost panicked. I not only had never heard that line but had never heard her mention it or sing it before! I knew a lot of hymns and had a healthy collection of her old song books and hymnals along with ones I had redeemed from garage sales and bookstores. Where would I start to look?
Arriving home I spent the next few days searching for that hymn. While making the arrangements for musical accompaniment, I asked the pianist if she had ever heard that line. She, being a seasoned musician and pastor’s wife, called me later with a possible title. Happily, I found it in one of the more obscure songbooks. But before I could verify it as the right one with my mom, she was ushered into the presence of her Saviour.
The service was lovely as we celebrated her life. The pastor’s wife played the medley of mom’s list and then surprised us by singing the unfamiliar hymn. It was the first time I’d ever heard it. It was a wonderful moment for the family.
Then, a couple months later, the baby was born. It was a boy! Then the thought struck me, “I wonder if mom knows he is born.” Little did I know how that question would be answered.
Mysterious things began to occur. Being the proud father, I called sibling’s, relatives, and friends, announcing our newest arrival. During a call to my oldest brother, he surprised me by commenting, “Well, mom has a birthday partner. Too bad she isn’t here to enjoy it.” I was speechless! Being lousy at remembering birthdays, I stammered and stuttered through the rest of the conversation trying to regain some semblance of confidence. Was it a coincidence? I was skeptical.
Then, a few months later I was locking up the house, tucking the kids in bed. As I approached my two older sons’ room, I remembered that one needed to get up early. I picked up the clock radio from the nightstand. As I did, for whatever reason, that question ran through my mind again, “I wonder if mom knows about him.” Set on a Christian station, I pressed the alarm button to check the volume. To my wonder and amazement I heard a choir singing “For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings.” As my jaw dropped, a calm yet joyous assurance came to rest on my heart. It was as if Jesus was saying, “She knows.”
That was the first and last time I actually heard that song played since the funeral. And though I find no scriptural support for my intuitions regarding her knowledge of earthly things, I rest in the assurance that she was made aware of her birthday buddy. I am equally confident she is joyfully enraptured by the One who bought her with His blood. Perhaps she is singing “Holy, Holy Is What the Angels Sing” to her King.
The hymns author, Johnson Oatman, Jr., penned these words in 1896:
There is singing up in Heaven such as we have never known,
Where the angels sing the praises of the Lamb upon the throne,
Their sweet harps are ever tuneful, and their voices always clear,
O that we might be more like them while we serve the Master here!
Refrain:
Holy, holy, is what
the angels sing,
And I expect to help them make the courts of heaven ring;
But when I sing redemption’s story, they will fold their wings,
For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings.
And I expect to help them make the courts of heaven ring;
But when I sing redemption’s story, they will fold their wings,
For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings.
“Unto Him Who hath redeemed us and hath bought us,” is the song;
We have come through tribulation to this land so fair and bright,
In the fountain freely flowing He hath made our garments white.
Refrain
Like the sound of many waters, by that happy, blood washed throng,
For they sing about great trials, battles fought and vict’ries won,
And they praise their great Redeemer, who hath said to them, “Well done.”
Refrain
I will join a blessèd chorus that the angels cannot share;
I will sing about my Savior, who upon dark Calvary
Freely pardoned my transgressions, died to set a sinner free.
Refrain
