I have a sneaking suspicion that country is not the music of choice for most of our blog readers. But you are missing something. I cut my teeth on Loretta Lynn and Merle Haggard, and I still like me some Randy Travis.
“Love’s the only house big enough for all the pain in the world” is a phrase that was on repeat in my brain as I read the emails that dripped into my inbox while I went out for a Groupon lunch today. It kept pounding in my head, and now Martina McBride’s on repeat singing Love’s the Only House, and it fits. I just downloaded it because when that hounding/pounding happens, don’t you just have to go spend the $1.29 and find out why?
A snippet from the song, which outlines all sorts of sad stories one might come across in one’s daily wanderings:
She said “I, I wanna buy a little carton of milk but I don’t have any money.”
I said “Hey I’ll cover you honey cause the pain’s gotta go somewhere. Yeah the pain’s gotta go someplace; so come on down to my house.”
This week’s news, from my own friends, includes a parent with a terminal illness, a marriage that broke up, a wife tiptoeing around her husband’s alcoholism, an older person feeling lonely, several lonely younger people, job woes, a couple of friends aching over the plight of trafficked girls, and a friend’s mother in chronic pain…and that doesn’t touch what I read in the newspaper.
And what can I do? Compassion fatigue threatens us all as we read and say, “Another problem about which I feel impotent.”
But sometimes the one thing we can do is to care and to simply come alongside someone. And I think that’s the message I get from Martina’s song, reminding me that “love’s the only house big enough for all the pain in the world.”
There’s a lot of pain in this broken world, in each of our inboxes and neighborhoods and workplaces.
Yea, an invitation into a house of love, a stance of love… that’s all we can offer sometimes. But offer it we can. And must.