As I sit back and reflect on my recent date night with my husband, attending a gospel concert, I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by a flood of memories and emotions. Gospel music has been a cornerstone in my life, a source of strength, and a reminder of my roots. I grew up in the church, and from a young age, I found myself drawn to the mesmerizing melodies and soul-stirring lyrics of gospel songs. Singing in the church choir became not just a pastime but a profound connection to my faith and my community. This connection carried through to my undergraduate years, where I continued to sing in the choir. Those moments were about more than just music; they were about bonding with friends, sharing experiences, and understanding the power of the hymnals that my grandparents used to sing. I recall a time when gospel music was the only genre my mom allowed me to listen to. Back then, I couldn’t fully grasp the significance of those hymnals or gospel songs, but as I sat at the concert, their power became crystal clear. Each note, each word, carried a weight that transcended mere music.
The gospel concert was a night of collective joy that was impossible to ignore. The energy in the room was electric, and as a black woman, I felt a profound connection to the shared celebration. There was something healing and almost mystical about the experience, a sense of unity and resilience that permeated the atmosphere. I remember my husband leaning in and whispering, “I love us,” a simple yet deeply meaningful acknowledgment of our shared culture and history. It was a moment of affirmation, a recognition of the beauty and strength within the black community. As I thought back on some of the most challenging moments in my life, I realized that gospel music has always been a steadfast companion. In times of distress, it has provided solace and strength, guiding me through the darkness. The songs I had sung for years had become a source of support, a reminder of the unwavering faith and resilience of my ancestors.
I couldn’t help but see the parallel between the anchoring power of gospel music and the resilience of my forebears. The same faith and determination that had carried them through hardships, slavery, and segregation were evident in the songs we sang that night. It was a testament to the enduring legacy of my ancestors, a legacy that I now carry forward. So, in a way, this date night was not just about enjoying a gospel concert with my husband. This blog is a letter of gratitude to my ancestors, a heartfelt thank you to my grandmother and grandfather for the precious gift of gospel music. It’s a legacy that will continue to be passed on, a connection to my roots, and a celebration of the collective joy and strength that defines us.
With gratitude,
Can
