The Kitchen Hymn at 5 AM

For forty years, Doris Whitfield sang while she cooked. Not hummed — sang. Full-throated renditions of Great Is Thy Faithfulness and Blessed Assurance that rattled the spice jars in her kitchen on Elm Street in Decatur, Georgia. Her grandchildren could hear her from the upstairs bedroom before their feet ever touched the cold floor.

"Grandma, why do you sing so loud so early?" her grandson Marcus asked one Saturday morning, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Doris slid a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him and wiped her hands on her apron. "Baby, I didn't wake up this morning on my own strength. The Lord opened my eyes, filled my lungs, and set my feet on this floor. The least I can do is make a joyful noise back to Him."

Marcus is forty-three now. He's a high school principal in Atlanta. And every morning before the buses arrive, his staff can hear him singing in his office at 6:15, voice carrying down the hallway.