Daryle Singletary’s first No. 1 hit was in 1996 when he sang, “‘Cause the truth was too hard to handle. And I couldn’t bear to lose that girl. We were that small town scandal, but she was my only world … And I let her lie. I let her lie.”
Listening to Singletary’s song, I realize we all avoid the truth sometimes because it’s too painful to face. So, we live as it is, and let things lie. When caring for someone with dementia, I’ve learned to share only what’s necessary. Truth comes in its own time and way.
Al and I watch the “Country’s Family Reunion Gospel Hour” and listen to the stories and testimonies of the old, hardcore country honky-tonk singers and musicians. Their testimonies are life-changing. Truth comes to them when they hit the bottom of the barrel. They can no longer lie to themselves. They are too desperate to be hypercritical. There is no pretense, only appreciation for God’s mercy. There’s no judging among their peers because many found themselves at the bottom, too.
Their world is real. They were raised in church, singing gospel songs, then became famous. The bright lights turned dim and their fame was no longer satisfying. They went the way of drugs, drinking and carousing — ending in divorce with a broken family and regrets. Only God’s truth satisfies them now.
One of my favorite singers is T. Graham Brown. No longer in his prime, his story is heart-wrenching. Many prayers were spoken for him and now his friends cry for joy. God turned his life around. When he sings, even “Buelah Land” is an anthem of praise. When I hear him sing, I know I’ve touched God, because God has touched him and his music.
He wrote a song titled, “Wine into Water.” He pleads for divine help. The lyrics express a sense of desperation and readiness to change. “Tonight I’m as low as any man can go. I’m down and I can’t fall much farther. And once upon a time you turned the water into wine and now on my knees, I’m turning to you Father. Could you help me turn the wine back into water.”
Many entertainers are honest as to where they have been, when they found themselves in some motel room, totally empty and alone. There, God touched them. They allow the Lord to change them in order to gain some sense of normalcy and a life that gives them peace and hope for others.
My Sweet Al and I have found ourselves in a different kind of normalcy. Al is mentally restricted and I am physically limited. We have come to truth knowing we can’t do things we used to do. The Lord has touched us through the help of family.
This morning I asked Al if he had a good night’s sleep.
He said, “I don’t want to tell you my woes; you’ll put another restriction on me.”
Oh me. I laughed at his sincerity, but cried inside. “I’ll have to nail your other foot to the floor.”
He didn’t find that humorous. He spoke from his heart. “You won’t let me leave the property in my car. You didn’t take up for me when they took my keys. You won’t let me put gas in my lawn mower because someone on this property put transmission oil in it. Both the tractor and my car have white smoke coming out of the back. Someone did something to them. I didn’t do it.”
We didn’t argue with Al. My son-in-law took care of the vehicles and they are all running again. Al can drive around our property and take the trash to the county road. But Al feels blamed unjustly.
“I don’t know who did it and no one is blaming you.” So, I let it lie. The truth isn’t that important. His feelings are more important.
Our daughter takes him to town several times a week, but that doesn’t satisfy him. He wants to be able to go and come when he wants. The truth is, he can’t. For me, I love being at home and I don’t feel trapped as I write to my heart’s content, keeping an eye on Al.
Every night as I put my Sweet Al to bed, I turn on the gospel hour and through those beautiful hymns and country songs that have been touched by God, Al sleeps soundly with beautiful music washing over his mind and heart.
Life is very real. He’s my only world. So, I let him lie.
Final brushstroke: At 18 and 22, we started our journey together, but, many miles later, we have changed drastically. There were times we had to let things lie until we could hear each other’s heart. But no matter how far we’ve traveled together, even on wrong roads we’ve taken, God has a way of touching our hearts and has given us peace. Truth makes sense for where we are today.
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