All My Trials

While I’m on the elliptical at the gym I listen to my choir repertoire, killing two birds with one stone – it helps the time pass and I get to listen to my songs in the vague hope that one day I might stop being the one who always gets the harmony wrong.

In all it lasts a little under 40 minutes, and I put it on shuffle because that’s just the kind of crazy, spontaneous way I live my life.

It seems that the shuffle, though, isn’t that random, because it always ends on a song called ‘All My Trials’.  It’s a Bahamian spiritual and a hauntingly beautiful song – that is, until you listen to the words, which are slit-your-throat miserable.  It is, in fact, the deathbed song of a woman who welcomes the end because ‘all her trials’ will ‘soon be over’.

How fitting!  There I am slogging away, all red in the face and possibly even glowing, desperately wondering if the whole terrible ordeal will ever come to an end, and suddenly on it comes, assuring me that this particular trial will soon be over.  It’s like a little ray of sunshine sent to give me a final burst of strength.

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