I Need a Little More of That Sha Na Na

 I used to work with my mother. How it happened was she showed up at my front door the  day after she retired from nursing, wanting to help me with my home business. I'd designed a baby carrier, started selling it mail order and then online. Stores were showing interest, and mom thought I needed her. She was right. 

Every morning she'd start by cleaning up the kid's breakfast dishes, then begin wrapping up babyTrekkers. When my friend Crystal joined the gang, the three of us had a blast together. Technically, mom was my shipper, but she'd answer the phone if necessary.

'BabyTrekker!' she'd say a bit nervously, like she wasn't the shipper yet but was still auditioning. 

One time when Crystal was out of town, I was chatting with a customer on our 800 number when mom picked up the office line. 'Why yes,' I said into the receiver, 'The carrier comes in Hunter Green.' That's when my mother began shouting.

'Sha na na sha na na!'

I stared at her in horror, then quickly stretched my phone line and moved around the corner, crouching over the phone so I could protect my potential customer from whatever craziness this was. Mom carried on, "In the mighty name of Jesus, I pray peace upon you!' 

"Mom!" I hissed. "Who are you talking to?" Really, the possibilities were endless. I felt mortified, even as I started giggling.

For those not in the know, my mother was partly praying in English and partly speaking in tongues. This might lead you to believe that she was doing this with a Bible in one hand and a  poisonous snake in the other, (which I believe is actually a thing in the deep south.) First, let me explain about tongues. Ordinarily, it's a private conversation with God where you speak things even you don't understand. It's like pouring out your heart, and is very useful when  regular words fail you. It's meditative, kind of like a different version of 'Oooommmm.' I find it uselful in moments of despair when the world really sucks and I think Donald Trump might win the next election. Anyway.

Mom contiued exhorting the Holy Trinity while I kept hissing, "Who are you talking to?" Was it a customer who'd disprespected the babyTrekker? I couldn't think of any situation that would call for this kind of fervor. Finally, she hung up the phone and turned to face me. "Crystal called from Winnipeg needing prayer."

    "Did she need THAT kind of prayer?" I asked, kind of smiling but also feeling a bit stressed. Fortunately, I'd taken my customer's order and hung up. 

"Yes, she did," mom replied firmly. That was the thing about her. She was a dignified, deeply spiritual woman who never backed down when someone was in trouble. Many people loved and respected her, including all her grandchildren. 

When I asked Crystal about it days later, she confirmed that the prayer had really hit the spot. After that we got a portable phone so I could quickly flee the scene when things took a spiritual turn. Later, when we'd opened a factory and moved everything uptown, mom came with me for a while. And then she and dad started to travel. But I treasure those days...all the laughs and also the prayers. 

When things are tough like they've been over the last number of years, I miss my mother. And I'd give anything to hear her words of wisdom again. In spite of my reaction all those years ago, I realize that I need a little more of that Sha Na Na. I need the kind of prayer that lifts and soothes and calms my heart. There's too much of the other kind of noise in the world. Mom, thank you for everything, for your patience, and your prayers. The world is less without you. I know, without any doubt, my siblings and our children will give me an amen on that.