A witty little love letter to an old lyric, a good mama, and the kind of morning that needs a soundtrack…

Some songs do not simply get stuck in your head. They move in, hang curtains, put a kettle on, and start rearranging the furniture in your heart.

For me, that song is “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning,” to be exact the chorus in it, from Oklahoma!, the 1943 Rodgers and Hammerstein musical that apparently came with enough sunshine to last several generations. I cannot hear even the first hopeful notes without being right back in childhood, listening to my mama sing it in the morning. God rest her, she had a way of making a day feel possible before your eyes and the sun were even noticeable.

She used to tell me that singing it when she got up helped set her day. It lifted her mood. It pointed her in the right direction. And, like so many things mamas say that we file away under “sure, sure, sure,” she was right all along.

There were years when that song went quiet for me. Life got heavy. Days became chores with shoes on. The morning did not always feel beautiful, and I was not always convinced everything was going my way. But somewhere along the road, my mama’s voice found me again. Not in some grand, dramatic movie-scene way. There was no spotlight, no swelling orchestra, no cowboy riding over the hill hollering, but in the ordinary, stubborn miracle of another morning.

Now here I am, in this era of life, still singing it. I have passed it down to my kids and grandkids, along with the story of my mother. They have heard me sing it enough times that I am sure at least one of them has considered me a bit daff. Still, they know the truth of it: this is more than a song. It is a family heirloom you do not have to dust.

And this morning, as I got up to go do a favor for my boss and work on my day off—because apparently I enjoy character-building exercises… I found myself singing it out loud again. The mutts were watching me with that look dogs give when they are not sure whether to be concerned or join in. They heard it too, because around here, if I am singing, the whole household is participating whether they signed up or not.

That is the thing about music… it sneaks past the guarded places. It can kick open a dusty window in the soul and let a little light in. It can make your shoulders drop, your mouth twitch into a grin, and your feet remember they were built for more than trudging from one responsibility to the next.

So if your day is waiting on you, or if you are already in the middle of one that is trying its best to test your patience, I dare you… sing. Sing badly if you must. Sing before you feel like it. Sing while the dogs judge you. Sing while the coffee brews. Sing while the laundry stares at you like it pays rent. Dance in the Kitchen, in the hall, in the den, or on the way to the shower…

See if it helps. See if it loosens a smile, lightens your heart, tickles your soul, or reminds you that life is still something we help shape with the words we choose, the music we carry, and the spirit we bring into the room.

Kick-start your day with a song. Dance into it if you can. Hum into it if dancing is too ambitious before breakfast. And remember: God is already there, the morning is still a gift, and you have got this.