Lord Jesus can I Have a talk With You
“Lord, Jesus, can I have this talk with You?
Lord, Jesus,it won’t be long before I’m through.
Lord, Jesus, I got to tell about my cares.
Lord, Jesus, all the burdens that I bear.
Lord, Jesus, although the storms and billows roll.
Lord, Jesus, You’ve been a comfort to my soul.
Lord, Jesus, I just have to have this talk with you.
My Lordy, this talk with You.”
Those lyrics bring back memories of my Mom. It was a song that she sang when things got
particularly rough. She didn’t complain about being a “second class citizen” in her own
home, probably because she did not viscerally acknowledge it. The man was the head of the
household and that was that. Thank You, Jesus, times have changed! My parents were
products of the Great Depression when things could be viewed only against the “haves” and
the “have nots,” when life at best, offered little more than a hardscrabble gamble. Not that
Mother gambled the word,“bet,” never escaped her thoughts, much less
her lips.
particularly rough. She didn’t complain about being a “second class citizen” in her own
home, probably because she did not viscerally acknowledge it. The man was the head of the
household and that was that. Thank You, Jesus, times have changed! My parents were
products of the Great Depression when things could be viewed only against the “haves” and
the “have nots,” when life at best, offered little more than a hardscrabble gamble. Not that
Mother gambled the word,“bet,” never escaped her thoughts, much less
her lips.
A “Believer,” Mother lived a spiritual life long before it had replaced “religion” as a definition of
those who in the first century were labeled “followers of The Way.” She taught me to read
before I was started kindergarten. The King James version of the Bible was her textbook. I
struggled to pronounce verbs that ended in “th,” as in “believeth, cometh, “seeth.”not to
mention the “thees,” “thys,’ and “thines,” among thousands of new and strange-sounding
words. So, mastering the “Dick and Jane” primers was a piece of cake!.
those who in the first century were labeled “followers of The Way.” She taught me to read
before I was started kindergarten. The King James version of the Bible was her textbook. I
struggled to pronounce verbs that ended in “th,” as in “believeth, cometh, “seeth.”not to
mention the “thees,” “thys,’ and “thines,” among thousands of new and strange-sounding
words. So, mastering the “Dick and Jane” primers was a piece of cake!.
I’ve just scratched the surface of Mother’s influence in my life: from the songs I’d wake up
hearing her sing; or the golden fried chicken neither I nor anyone else could duplicate, (and
I’m known as a pretty good cook);the peach cobbler that would melt in your mouth; or the
Lima beans we ate with some regularity since that was Daddy’s favorite vegetable. Yet nobody or
anyone possessed her spirit of thanksgiving, praise, or prayer life, which was unparalleled.
She loved me through various periods and milestones, tolerated my professions of atheism,
agnosticism, or any other “ism” I adopted for a minute.
hearing her sing; or the golden fried chicken neither I nor anyone else could duplicate, (and
I’m known as a pretty good cook);the peach cobbler that would melt in your mouth; or the
Lima beans we ate with some regularity since that was Daddy’s favorite vegetable. Yet nobody or
anyone possessed her spirit of thanksgiving, praise, or prayer life, which was unparalleled.
She loved me through various periods and milestones, tolerated my professions of atheism,
agnosticism, or any other “ism” I adopted for a minute.
She even put up with my more than passing infatuation love with alcohol (and I don't mean
the kind she would use for bruises and scrapes.) As a recent college graduate with her own
car, who was footloose and fancy-free, a girlfriend and I flirted with Labels (as in Johnny
Walker Red and Johnny Walker Black)with until an early Saturday morning tussle between
the front door lock and me..No matter how hard I tried to keep the lock from moving so I
could put the key in and unlock the door, I just couldn’t do it! Finally, as if by magic the door
swung open and there Mother stood looking at me.
the kind she would use for bruises and scrapes.) As a recent college graduate with her own
car, who was footloose and fancy-free, a girlfriend and I flirted with Labels (as in Johnny
Walker Red and Johnny Walker Black)with until an early Saturday morning tussle between
the front door lock and me..No matter how hard I tried to keep the lock from moving so I
could put the key in and unlock the door, I just couldn’t do it! Finally, as if by magic the door
swung open and there Mother stood looking at me.
“You have a choice,” Mother said, “Either you stop drinking or you stop driving. I won’t let
you do both anymore.” She never raised her voice! Yet, it penetrated the area of my brain
that was still functioning, at least nominally! It cut through the Johnny Walker-induced fog,
and, without hesitating, I handed over my car keys , and that was that. .Did I stop boozing?
Of course not, but I learned to gauge my limits. Mother had allowed me more dignity than I
deserved, of course. But she was Mother and I was her “baby” daughter.
you do both anymore.” She never raised her voice! Yet, it penetrated the area of my brain
that was still functioning, at least nominally! It cut through the Johnny Walker-induced fog,
and, without hesitating, I handed over my car keys , and that was that. .Did I stop boozing?
Of course not, but I learned to gauge my limits. Mother had allowed me more dignity than I
deserved, of course. But she was Mother and I was her “baby” daughter.
Some time after Courtney died, I began to wonder if my Mom and her Grand Daughter of
them have met in heaven. I believe they have! The thought brings a peace that goes way
beyond human understanding. I wonder if they think of me and if Mother has told Courtney
stories about me and the things I did.
Mother kept both my daughters in Denver from the time they were toddlers,while their father
and I continued graduate studies in Chicago. Mother always said they brought great joy to
her life, and she relished giving them all the things she’d been unable to give us. I know
Courtney would recognize her “Granny” and revel in the reunion, and of course,
Mother would recognize her granddaughter.. She’d know, as she's always known and I’m
trying to understand, that Love is Spirit and Spirit never dies.
them have met in heaven. I believe they have! The thought brings a peace that goes way
beyond human understanding. I wonder if they think of me and if Mother has told Courtney
stories about me and the things I did.
Mother kept both my daughters in Denver from the time they were toddlers,while their father
and I continued graduate studies in Chicago. Mother always said they brought great joy to
her life, and she relished giving them all the things she’d been unable to give us. I know
Courtney would recognize her “Granny” and revel in the reunion, and of course,
Mother would recognize her granddaughter.. She’d know, as she's always known and I’m
trying to understand, that Love is Spirit and Spirit never dies.
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