Midweek Musing- 5/6/26

Midweek Musing: Still Moving On

This week’s musing is a little different.

It began with a moment I couldn’t shake… and eventually became something I didn’t expect. A song.

Let me explain.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to see Banks and Shane in concert. I’ve been listening to them for as long as I can remember. And I am not over exaggerating here. My parents took me to hear them when I was an infant at the old Steak and Ale in Tucker, Georgia.

If you’re from around Atlanta, there’s a good chance you’ve heard them too. They have played in clubs and for city wide celebrations and with the Atlanta Symphony and with Jeff Foxworthy and even had 2 restaurants called…Banks and Shane’s.

They have gotten a bit older since 1972, so they don’t perform as often these days. Thus, when I saw they were playing at The Strand Theatre, I made sure I got tickets for Laura, my parents and I.

Like always, they played a wide range of songs. They do lots of covers in addition to a few originals. They typically do everything from The Beatles to James Taylor to The Kingston Trio to The Eagles. But one song in particular changed the entire night for me.

They played a song called Riding with Private Malone, originally recorded by David Ball.

If you know the song, you know it tells the story of a man driving a 1966 Corvette that once belonged to a soldier who never made it home from Vietnam. It’s already a powerful song.

But what happened in the audience during the song made it unforgettable for me.

You see, a few rows in front of me sat an older man. As the song unfolded, his head dropped, and tears began streaming down his face. Sitting beside him was a woman who I assume was his wife. As the song continued along with his tears she wrapped her arm around him, holding him close in that quiet, steady way that only deep love can.

When the song ended, he leaned over and gently kissed her on the cheek.

That moment has stayed with me.

Because it reminded me of something we so easily forget:

We never really know what someone is carrying.

The person sitting near us may be holding decades of memories… grief… loss… love… all just beneath the surface. And sometimes, all it takes is a song, a smell, a moment, for it all to come rushing back.

Which means this is also true:

We should always choose kindness.

Not because it’s polite.Not because it’s expected.But because it’s necessary.

Because love…real love…is often the thing carrying someone through.

That moment at the concert wouldn’t let me go. And eventually, the words started coming. What began as reflection slowly turned into poetry… and then, with a little help from technology (a program called Suno), it became a song.

It won’t be a Top 40 hit.But it tells a story worth telling.

And maybe, in its own small way, it reflects the kind of love we are called to live: quiet, steady, and strong enough to carry what never fully goes away.

I hope you enjoy it.

And more than that, I hope it reminds us all:

It’s the small, everyday acts of love and kindness that make all the difference.

Grace and Peace,

Clay

Still Moving On

I’m sitting near the back row

Of the dim concert hall—

And see an old man there who's lived through it all

And as the music plays a harmony, I see his tears start to fall—

As he remembers his lost brothers who for their country would fall

He’s no longer holding rifles, but he’s still holding the years.

Every song that he carries is a trail of his tears.

He’s not marching in line, but he’s still moving on—

And the weight of the past will never be gone.

The chords start to echo, and I see in his eyes—

He’s back in the trenches, beneath foreign skies.

His friends are still with him though they never came home—

And he feels the hidden scars only his heart knows.

He’s no longer holding rifles, but he’s still holding the years.

Every song that he carries is a trail of his tears.

He’s not marching in line, but he’s still moving on—

Yes, the weight of the past will never be gone.

Time doesn’t take it away, but life slowly moves on

In her melody and arms he knows where he now belongs

Her loving hands hold him steady—they have for so many years

She’s held him at night when the dreams brought the fears

And the tears that still fall are part of his song—

He’s carried by love, though that weight stays lifelong.

He’s no longer holding rifles, but he’s still holding the years.

Every song that he carries is a trail of his tears.

He’s not marching in line, but she’s helped him move on—

Love helps carry the weight that will never be gone.