“Please look down and see my people through…”

To get up, to move. To press on. I woke up with a goal. To go. And when I got there, I was blessed by the smells, the sounds, the knowing secret smiles through tears, the songs.

Sundays smell like Black woman goodness. Cocoa butter, perfumes, mint and hair products.

Sundays sound like joy. Laughter, knowing smiles, tears that well up at the sight of baby girls in white gloves, pretending to be ushers like their Grandmothers.

Sundays feel like an Underground Railroad secret. The unspoken power we have to keep getting up and going on.

Sundays feel like songs. Like Duke Ellington’s “Come, Sunday”. Blue notes, soaringly simple melodies, prophetic rests and grace-full prayers.

I was in the number today when God looked around saw my people through one more time and again….

“Lord, dear Lord above, God almighty

God of love – please look down and see my people through.

I believe God is now, was then and always will be.

With God’s blessing we can make it through eternity.

Oh, Lord, dear Lord above, God almighty

God of love – please look down and see my people through.”

“Come Sunday” by Edward Kennedy “Duke” Ellington

Mahalia Jackson sings Duke Ellington’s “Come Sunday”