My mom used to sing this song every year during the Christmas season.
I remember for a while when I was very young I disliked it. It was too haunting, too eerie, for a time when I wanted pealing bells and tinkling chimes.
But even though I didn’t like it, every time she went up– for that one note– I got chills. Dislike changed to toleration, and even enjoyment of the tradition of it, the sameness, and what that meant. Like the Coca-cola commercials or the Hess truck jingle.
This year I think about that song all the time.
It came into my mind while I ran this morning (not the greatest tune for running, in case you were curious).
I wonder as I wander out under the sky
How Jesus, the Savior, did come for to die
For poor Orn’ry people like you and like I…
I wonder as I wander
out under the sky.
I wonder that too. I wonder a lot of things.
For months we’ve been ‘in limbo.’
Tomorrow that might change.
Even now, I’m desperate to reach out and grab it, to set the dates and fix the timeline and guarantee it. I can’t, but I want to.
But that’s why I had to write tonight.
If this thing tomorrow pans out…
and if it means that we’ll have new things to learn and try and do,
I want so much to remember this time, this directionless, foggy, frustrating time. I want to remember how thick and fast the lessons have come, how faithfully Jesus has shown me where I’m wrong, and how incredibly he’s provided even in my failings, even when I’ve been gloomy and faithless and judgey and frustrated.
Whatever comes next, I want to remember that he’s been with me through the wandering. I wonder what he’s going to do next…