“Down by the baaaaayyyy, where the watermelons groooowwwww…”

The sound of this familiar tune came to my ears one evening while making a quick stop for Aldi essentials. The music came from the little boy sitting in the cart beside me. Far from holding back his vocal abilities, the little fellow was belting the song enthusiastically from his perch in the cart. His sandy yellow head moved to the motion of the music and his legs dangled from the seat. His eyes were closed as if enjoying the finest music from a concert stage.

“Back to my hooooome, I dare not goooooo….”

I looked around for the parents of this child, hoping to catch an eye and share a smile. They were there, but they were unaware of the concert at hand. In fact, they were engaged in their own concert of sorts – one unfortunately full of discord.

The parents were arguing.

“For if I doooooo, my mother will saaaaayyyyy…” he continued. The note of expectation in this phrase matched the need for resolve in his parents’ dispute.

The boy’s tone was steady and clear, and oh, so precious! In spite of the commotion his parents were making in that same aisle, I found my heart and mind fixed not on their argument, but on the boy. His message was clear and persistent: no one and nothing would stop this child from singing about The Bay.

He got louder. I waited for his mom or dad to disengage from their dispute to acknowledge the boy. Based on their mood, I half expected one of them to silence the child. But they didn’t; they ignored him completely. I was eager to finish the refrain with, “Did you ever see a llama, wearing a pajama?” or “Did you ever see a swan, waving a baton?” but the boy didn’t give me a chance. Instead, he launched into the refrain once again,

“Down by the baaaaayyyy, where the watermelons groooowwwww…”

His voice carried throughout the store, keeping me company while I finished my route. Over and over again, he sang the refrain, never once finishing the final sentence. As the cashier handed my receipt to me, I could see the father holding the boys hand on the way to the bathroom, his voice still echoing through the store, loud and clear.

As I left the store, his song in my heart, I found myself exploding with joy and sheer delight in the boy’s innocence and resilience. And at the same time, I found myself hurting for her – his mother.

“Oh, Mama… please don’t miss his song,” I prayed for his mother.

I could see her face in my memory: tired, worn out, and defeated. I could hear the irreverent words spoken to her husband in front the entire store in bursts of frustration and impatience. I could sense the hurt in her heart as equally irreverent words were spoken back to her by her spouse. With such a burden to bear, it seems that she couldn’t hear her son’s song. And then I realized: perhaps she wasn’t missing it at all. What if this was actually HER song from a happier day, now manifest in the son? This was, in fact, a song from home.

“My mother will say…”

And so, I took delight in the boy and his mother, thankful for the time she likely took to teach it to him. I prayed that she would soon scoop him up into her arms and tell him she loves him. I believed that she would once again sing the same song to him and tell him of home. And I resolved to be more like the boy himself, by singing loudly amidst a world of discord.

This sound of discord is forever in our ears. And right now, it seems to be the theme of the world around us. A culture of death knocks at the doors of our families, seeking to steal our memories, motivation, and morals. And yet – the song is not over. It’s only yet begun. The song of our Mother, the Church, is in our hearts. As baptized souls, our very identity is steeped in the music of a Love so great, it surpasses all other earthly loves. This song lies deep within our heart and we can, like this small boy, sing it boldly in the middle of a storm (or the dairy aisle at the grocery store!).

And the next time I stray far from The Bay, distracted by the discord around me, I pray there is someone who loves me, like this little boy, who will sing a mother’s song in my presence and call me back to who I am and the goodness around me. We can at any given moment, say “no” to the lies and distractions of the world and “yes” to the truth of who we really are and how much God loves us. Let’s be persistent and sing boldly! Ours is a song of home.

Let’s go home to The Bay, where the watermelons grow.

Yours, Mary