My father had the most beautiful singing voice. He sang during World War II for the troops in a traveling USO musical called “Winged Victory”. I have a photo of him putting his stage makeup on with Mario Lanza and Red Buttons!

He also sang in church, and one of my favorite memories was a Sunday morning when Dad sang the Lord’s Prayer solo. The first time I heard him do that, and watched him as he stood at the front of the church, well, there are no words for a little girl’s admiration!

I used to practice singing when no one was around. I liked to stretch out on a long, wide branch of a Cypress tree up on the hill behind our house and sing the Lord’s Prayer, while swaying gently in the breeze and imagine that God was listening to me. I know, what a cornball! The problem is that apparently I’m tone deaf. So I’ve learned over the years, if I’m going to sing the Lord’s Prayer, I do it quietly and to myself. (Personally, I think I sound great!)

So, for many years I’ve had the occasion to sing this beautiful prayer very quietly to myself as I lie in bed. (My husband has not had the pleasure of catching me do this!) Did it as a child, and have done it many times as an adult. Singing to God, “Our Father, Which Art in Heaaaaaaaven….”

Well, the rest of the story… A couple of years ago, my dear Auntie E (a very special 90-something), took a fall. After living for many, many years as an independent woman in her own home, it was the consensus of the family that she would move back to Michigan, where she grew up, to be closer to her stepdaughter and other relatives. It was my job to come to her home in California and spend a few evenings with her, as we packed and prepared her for this journey.

I slept on the couch near her bedroom, so that I could hear her if she needed help during the night. It was the second or third night and Auntie E was tucked into bed and I stretched out on the couch, stared at the ceiling, and reviewed my to-do list for the next day.

Suddenly, in the midst of that quiet I heard the tiniest voice coming from the other room, singing in a soft whisper, “Our Father, Which Art in Heaaaaaaven…”

It appears to run in the family! I love you, Auntie E.

You are my hero! God bless you!