Got a reality check from a homeless man yesterday.  I was walking to the store to buy dinner fixin’s and he was mumbling along on his way – scavenging tape from a telephone pole as far as I could tell.  He made eye contact, then called after me as I walked past, “Hey, pretty lady? Are you crying or are you singing?”

God bless him for the “pretty lady” part, but seriously, he made me think.  Made me wonder.

Am I crying or am I singing?

Crying comes more naturally these days.  Crying comes with the assurance that I won’t feel duped, I won’t feel tricked by sadness.  Preemptive crying seems almost wise sometimes.

Singing, on the other hand, feels like whistling past a graveyard.  It seems like it just might attract all the wrong attention.  How dare I be happy.  How dare I imagine that the worst might not happen.  Have I learned nothing this last year?  Have I no sense of emotional self-preservation?

However, I’ve been doing a lot of crying, and it’s really not working out for me.  Going to try – or at least try to try – singing for a while.

Oh my god, I’m so lucky to be here.
Oh thank heavens that everything is going as well as it is.
Oh my goodness, this just might be what I’ve been hoping for, for such a very long time.

My life flows on in endless song
Above earth's lamentation.
I hear the real, thought far off hymn
That hails the new creation
Above the tumult and the strife,
I hear the music ringing;
It sounds an echo in my soul
How can I keep from singing?

What through the tempest loudly roars,
I hear the truth, it liveth.
What through the darkness round me close,
Songs in the night it giveth.
No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that rock I'm clinging.
Since love is lord of Heaven and earth
How can I keep from singing?

When tyrants tremble, sick with fear,
And hear their death-knell ringing,
When friends rejoice both far and near,
How can I keep from singing?
In prison cell and dungeon vile
Our thoughts to them are winging.
When friends by shame are undefiled,
How can I keep from singing?