I absolutely love the song “Come to Jesus,” more correctly—and
ironically—titled “Untitled Hymn.” I learned it a few years ago with the rest
of the Wuppets at Watsontown Christian Academy. We performed it in front of the
curtain with movement and wearing neon gloves, usually with tears streaming
down my face. Yeah, it’s that kind of
song.
Last November when I wrote Surviving Meemaw, “Come to Jesus” grabbed Laney’s attention as she
sat in a back pew doing her homework during one of Meemaw’s puppet shows. It
was the annoying tune she couldn’t get out of her head, the lyrics that became
her prayer when she lit candles in the church.
So when God brought everything together for Surviving Meemaw to be published, I assumed
He would also get me past this last glitch:
Acquiring permission to use Chris Rice’s song. My colleagues at WCA and
church family at Watsontown Baptist Church joined their prayers with mine.
My editor, Marsha Hubler, had another thought. She had once
been granted permission to use a song in a novel—for $1200. (Ouch.) She advised
me to do what she did: Replace it with
my own original song, which at this point would be titled “Unwritten Hymn.”
Meanwhile,
Helping Hands Press publisher Giovanni Gelati said he would get to work on
contacting Chris Rice, as my own attempts had failed.
We continued to pray.
After some time, I deduced that Chris Rice’s ability to
compose a tear duct-assaulting masterpiece came from his status as a hermit. The
man is in hiding and does not want to be found.
How hard could it be to write a song that would affect Laney
(and me) as Hermit Rice’s song had? I brought my first attempt to West Branch
Christian Writers. They pretty much let me know (in that kind, uplifting way we
help each other during critique) that I had failed miserably. They gave me lots
of suggestions; one member even wrote a pretty good poem during the meeting.
But it wasn’t the song Laney and I were hearing in my head.
I kept praying and pondering phrases and snippets of lyrics.
The song needed to deliver the message of Rice’s song without being derivative.
Two crucial scenes in Surviving Meemaw
depended on it.
The melody came together while I was driving on a Saturday
morning. I parked in a bank lot and attempted to record myself on my phone. Though
I’ve recorded puppet videos on the same phone in Jamaica, I couldn’t make it
work, so instead I kept singing the song over and over until I got home. I didn’t
have time to sit at the piano with staff paper and pencil, so I used the house
phone to call my cell phone and left myself a voice message. Whew.
If you have read Surviving
Meemaw, you have already encountered “Laney’s Song,” although you haven’t
heard its simple puppet-able tune. Did it work? I think so: Since my ankle-breaking accident, I have used
it as a soothing reminder that I am in the care of a God who loves me very
much.
Hopefully during my recovery time, I will get “Laney’s Song”
on lines and spaces and add ukulele chords. Then I will play and sing it for
you.
Laney’s Song
Merciful Lord, ruling above,
Just like a baby, I’m wrapped in your love.
Just like a baby, I’m wrapped in your love.
Beautiful Lord, worthy of praise,
Just like a child, I grow in your grace.
Just like a child, I grow in your grace.
Powerful Lord, stronger than fears,
When I am weeping, you dry all my tears.
When I am weeping, you dry all my tears.
Jesus my friend, Jesus my guide,
When my life’s over, I’ll fly to your side.
When my life’s over, I’ll fly to your side.
Jesus my Lord, of all kings, King,
When I’m in heaven, I’ll dance and I’ll sing.
When I’m in heaven, I’ll dance and I’ll sing.
Ever in heaven, I’ll dance and I’ll sing.
