”All God’s Critters Got a Place In the Choir.”
And being in the choir is work.
I’m not much for singing gospel songs; but Bill Staines, who wrote this one, was more of a folkie, and his tune, “All God’s Critters” is more folk than (Lord help us) “praise” music. But whatever the genre, I’m more interested in its theology, because I agree with it.
All God’s critters got a place in the choir,
Some sing low, some sing higher,
Some sing out loud on the telephone wire.
And some just clap their hands, or paws,
or anything they got now . . . . Continue reading ”All God’s Critters Got a Place In the Choir”–But Sometimes They have to Make (or Change) It
Why not? Mostly because of what I wasn’t: I 
wasn’t a girl (& never had been); wasn’t a slave (or even an enslaver, for that matter); wasn’t Black, and (late entry) had no plans to have the tale vetted by an ethnic/cultural sensitivity reader.
I managed to draft about sixty pages of my Nantucket novel, and several episodes of the quilt story, before cash ran too low for more room rent. Reluctantly I took the ferry back to the twentieth century, presented my carefully stashed return bus ticket, and jiggled and scribbled my sore butt back to Baghdad on the Bay.
I had moved to San Francisco from Boston in late 1975, following my daughters, who were there with my soon-to-be ex-wife. Starting over as a writer/reporter there kept me on a tight budget.
Once long ago, in late 1976, I set out to write the great American Quaker novel.