My Unsung Lullaby is Still Being Sung

After attending my ward's church services today, I headed off to a missionary's "homecoming." I baby-sat him and his siblings 18 years ago. It's the first time I've seen most of the family in almost just as much time.

As I drove, I needed some music. I turned to the Classical station, and caught the last part of Music and the Spoken Word. I heard the women singing words that were immediately familiar to me. The irony is that in the 3 or 4 measures it took me to place where and how I knew the song, I was already in tears because of how much I knew I loved the song. I sang it just this past Christmas with the Sterling Singers. I cried the first day we rehearsed it in August. And many, many times after that. For a Christmas song, we changed the words to the 3rd verse to be more about the Savior.

Still, this song has reached around and into my heart in so many ways over the few months we practiced and sang it. But a new meaning came to me today when I heard Lullaby arranged by Ryan Murphy. The Spirit whispered to me that the 3rd verse refers to all who have lost children, whether they were living or not. This song included me.

When I was a teenager, I had a very spiritual experience that with time has become clearer to me. I was in my room preparing for church, and I was listening to Michael McLean's Stay With Me.


And I felt someone touch me. There was no one there. But I felt the presence of spiritual beings with me in my room. At the time, I was impressed that it was the spirit of one of my future children, touching me to comfort me, because one day I would lose one of my children. But now I can see that it was because I would lose several of them.

Not actual children who have been born. But the dream and hope of them. As medical issues arose, and marriage prospects got further away, I had to face facts that my 10 longed-for children would never be. I may not be old, but I ain't that young either. Throw the medical stuff into the balance, and I have a very limited window that grows smaller with time. Generally I live my life and do not let these broken dreams debilitate me. I love my life and am grateful for the countless things I have been blessed with.

But Mother's Day is a really hard day for those of us women who dreamed of our children and watch our dreams shatter one by one, year by year. I love the "mother" talks by Sheri Dew, Julie Beck, and many others that talk of how we are all mothers in our many roles, whether or not we have our own children. I believe that, I love it, and I try to live it. But it isn't quite the same and it cannot erase the vestige of pain that remains.

So it was sweet and helped me feel less alone, less unheard, and less misunderstood when the Spirit let me know that our Heavenly Father, our Heavenly Mother,  and our Savior weep with us for the little ones that do not hear the mother song we so dearly wish to sing. In hearing Lullaby, the Spirit was comforting me, because this is one of my trials. Yes, I believe that my Savior can do all things and could find me my husband now (or years ago) and take away my medical iffy-ness to allow us "easy access" to children. But that would also take away so many chances for my growth in spirit, mind, emotion, and testimony. I trust the Lord, and I trust His plan for me.

So there I was, yet again sobbing through Lullaby, this time for my children that I have lost. The Spirit gave me my time to mourn, but still kept reminded me of those wonderful mother talks. Reminding me again of the wonderful blessing put in the stead of my, for now, unfulfilled dreams. I may mourn the loss of my children, but every day I give thanks for the many, many children in my life time who have allowed me to fill in those gaps by playing some degree of a mothering role in their lives. Thank you for letting me sing my lullaby to you.



Lullaby
Lyrics are a Poem by Eugene Hunter:
The stars are twinkling in the skies,
The earth is lost in slumbers deep;
So hush, my sweet, and close thine eyes,
And let me lull thy soul to sleep.
Compose thy dimpled hands to rest,
And like a little birdling lie
Secure within thy cozy nest
Upon my loving mother breast,
And slumber to my lullaby,
So hushaby--O hushaby.

The moon is singing to a star
The little song I sing to you;
The father sun has strayed afar,
As baby's sire is straying too.
And so the loving mother moon
Sings to the little star on high;
And as she sings, her gentle tune
Is borne to me, and thus I croon
For thee, my sweet, that lullaby
Of hushaby--O hushaby.

There is a little one asleep
That does not hear his mother's song;
But angel watchers--as I weep--
Surround his grave the night-tide long.
And as I sing, my sweet, to you,
Oh, would the lullaby I sing--
The same sweet lullaby he knew
While slumb'ring on this bosom too--
Were borne to him on angel's wing!
So hushaby--O hushaby.