Ri came home talking about Elijah. I think he’s a classmate. But seeing that her school has abandoned the moderate ABeka and fully committed to ACE (Accelerated Christian Education), it’s quite probable that she’s referencing a biblical figure.
She’s in the car seranading me with Wade In the Water – or, rather, with what she remembers of the chorus. You see, Ri thinks it’s about a pool or a puddle. It’s been raining, so it’s only natural that someone is wading water, right?
I turn off the stereo and start to sing along. Wade in the water. Wade in the water, children. Wade in the water. God’s gonna trouble the water. I *think* that’s how it goes. Ri chimes in. She actually lets our duet happen instead of chastising and commanding (“No mom. Not you.”)
We repeat the chorus, but the second time I finish “Wade in the water. God’s gonna trouble the water.” she looks at me through the rearview mirror concerned.
“God’s in trouble?” She inquires.
Clearly it is unfathomable that He could have been naughty. I can’t think for a minute on the best way to clarify, but assure her that no, God is not in trouble.
At this point I’m wondering if trouble is even in the lyrics. It’s a slave hymn, afterall, meant as a lesson on escaping detection while heading to freedom. I vow to look up the words.
“God’s not in trouble, he’s splashing water while swimming.”
She accepts this and resumes singing. Swim in the water. Swimming in the water. Swim in the water. Over an over she repeats until I park in our driveway.