I Can Pray

My family is no stranger to tragedies. We know what it's like to hurt.

When my Mother was twenty-five, her husband fell from a silo. She was left with a seven-month-old son, Doug.

Eventually, she married my father. They had four children—Adriel, Brenda, Nathan, and Frances.

Nathan drowned in our pond when he was two. I was six months old. My brother, Doug, died in a tractor accident when I was seven. The last of my grandparents died when I was twenty-two.

Death was a frequent part of our family discussions.

On holidays we visited the graves—memorials to those we lost. I hated standing in the graveyard waiting for my mother to be done visiting each grave. It was uncomfortable.

I watched my mother make it through all of those painful parts of living by praying. She believed in prayer. She prayed about everything.

On less tragedy-stricken days, we’d pray funny prayers (at least I thought they were funny)—such as "Please God, bring the cows back home," when they escaped from the barnyard. Prayer was as much a part of our life as doing the farm chores. Given all of our family experiences, you’d think I could easily write a song about prayer.

When I was asked to sing for a National Day of Prayer event I didn't feel like any of the songs I knew about prayer said what I wanted to say. I wanted my own song to sing.

I could hear a melody (and four simple words) that could be the chorus, but I couldn't seem to write more than these four words...."But I can pray."

I knew that I wanted to show the contrast between life's struggles, the ineptness we feel when someone is hurting, and the power of prayer. I knew the verses would lead me to the chorus...somehow.

I waited for more words to come.

Then we got the news. 

A tragic car accident—a young boy and his mother. She was driving him to school...a head-on collision. The boy didn’t survive the crash.

I knew the family. It shook the community.

I pondered the events in my heart, watching the mother struggle with the loss of her son, a sister with the loss of her brother. I knew it would be hard. We all struggled to know what to say.

The Sidewalk.

"What children are exposed to, hear, and see when they are young goes deep. It enters their soft hearts, and it stays there. What happens to them and around them during their formative years affects them for the rest of their lives.

Imagine this supernatural window of time early in life when our spirits are so impressionable as the constructing of a sidewalk. Once the liquid mixture has been poured, you have a very limited amount of time to imprint anything on the cement. However, if you can draw your initials in the concrete before it hardens, it is permanently etched forever. Whatever else makes contact with that cement later on does not have the same impact or long-standing effect as those original markings." —Charity Virkler Kayembe

I've spent most of the summer sharing part of my family's story with you. This past week we passed the 52 year mark of Nathan's tragic death, October 11, 1966. As the author, Charity, stated above, the imprints placed on our hearts as children are permanently etched forever. Fortunately, sidewalks also offer a path to other places if you follow them and so it has been with my own heart. Yes, losing our brothers, Nathan and Doug have certainly left their marks, but as I've paid attention to the imprints in the sidewalk, it has brought healing, understanding and growth. So I keep moving forward with full awareness of the path behind me.

I think this past summer was the right season to go back to the farm where the concrete began to "set" and capture the song that has become a foundation stone in my life and songwriting. I see things from a new perspective.

Please feel free to share this with your family and friends, especially those who have lost loved ones. I think they will understand.

Click HERE to view the music video to Beside the Barn.

No Kid-sized Sadness. (A tribute to Doug Crider from his daughter, Kelly Joe Crider Albert).

I recently read a paragraph that resonated deeply with me. It helps me understand that even when a child experiences loss, we should never underestimate the effect it is having on them. I can't say it better than this, so I'll just share the paragraph here:

It helps to understand that emotions are basically one size. 
Love is massive. 
Fear is huge. 
And when you take these large emotions and put them inside tiny people, they overflow easily. There is no "kid-sized" sadness. They experience it just as fully as adults do, and without us encouraging them to pray through the feeling, they can easily be overwhelmed by it. — Charity Virkler Kayembe

This was certainly true of me, as it became evident in my songwriting years later. I processed the grief of losing my brothers, Nathan and Doug through my writing. I know it's also been true for Doug's youngest daughter, Kelly, my niece. Many people say that Kelly and I look alike and we know from spending time together that we certainly act and think alike too! 

Kelly has so beautifully shared her experience with losing her Daddy in her own words....

From Kelly Crider Albert:

"My father’s death has had a big impact on my life. 

Growing up I wanted to have a dad that threw ball with me outside, to help me with the sports that I loved so much. There was always a hole that seemed never to be able to be filled. I really had a hard time being around other people that had fathers that did things with their daughters. I didn’t understand why I felt these feelings till I was older and realized that I needed to mourn the loss of my dad. 

I had the opportunity several years ago to return to the farm where my father was killed. Even though I had grown up for the first six and three-quarter years up there and would visit the family at the farm many times, I never realized then that it was where my father had died. This was a very hard and good experience all at the same time. 

I remember just standing there staring at the place where it happened while Steve (son of the farm owner at the time of the accident) told how it happened. Then Steve put his arm around me like a protective big brother and I broke. I don’t ever remember crying so hard in my life. I do believe that was very good for me to get out though. 

The rest of the family was very willing to answer any questions that Crystal and I had about our dad that day as well. This was very hard for them since it is still very painful for them as well. I hope they realize what a gift they gave me that day though. 

Denny and Kelly (Crider) Albert family.

I love to run into people that knew my dad and hear stories about him. But that can also be bitter sweet for me because it is very clear that I missed out on a great man in my life. I would have loved for him to know my husband, our children and now my grandchild. I love to hear that my sons and my grandson look like him." 


Thank you, Kelly, for sharing your heart with us here.

You are loved and valued,

Aunt Francie