Ghena sings hymns in the car with her kids when we drive places. Her children have favourite hymns. Her 3 year old can quote part of the Westminster Catechism. Her 6 and 7 year olds can quote Luke 2 and Isaiah 35. If anyone knows hymns, Ghena does. This needs to be said as a sort of preface before the following conversation can be understood.
Sara: I’ve had a song stuck in my head all day, and it’s a hymn and I don’t know the name or the lyrics.
Ghena: hum it for me.
Sara (hums): I think there’s something about “my name is written on your hands.” And maybe something about the Great I AM? I mean, that fits, since it’s, you know, a name for God, right? So that could fit.
Ghena (snickers): yes, clearly, it’s a name for God. How does it go? (hums) My name on your hands? Hm (she looks very concerned while staring at her coffee for inspiration)
Sara: Oh my gosh.
Sara: Oh my gosh. OH. MY. GOSH. I know a hymn that you don’t. Ghena! I know a hymn that you don’t know!
Sara (ecstatically): I know a hymn that you DON’T! No way!
Ghena: Oh pleeeeease.
five minutes later (with the help of her husband), Ghena had the hymn title and was singing the redone version that I had picked up somwhere along my weary relationship with Christian music. She claims that if I had been humming the original tune that she’d have known it much sooner.
Well, at least I felt really awesome for a full five minutes.