Her eyes welled to brimming when she didn’t have music class today.
The day was warm, thawed out and heaving a lifting fog on an odd-weathered January morning. I tried to focus on pictures of glistening drips of sunlight caressing a branch that days before was burdened with heavy snow and heavier ice. And I couldn’t quite focus in. To really see its resilience in the sparkle of the sun bearing down on the winter-beat earth. The way the branch gladly bounced each time a shining drop teetered on the edge and broke free to the ground.
Instead I tried to drink it into my self.
The beauty of the second before the shadows moved just so slight and the brilliance shifted from the trees. The light. The warmth. The glow of the mist blanketing the rays. I turned around and walked back ginger-like and stiff-legged, afraid to slip and nervous I’d forget.
Kids in the car, grocery list, snacks made and woodstove fed full, we melted out of our driveway and off to school. She was excited. To see her friends, to sing and giggle, to learn notes that she sometimes can’t remember but belts out with confidence in her voice that her momma loves to hear. I dropped her off at the door and drove the circle to park and scooped her brother and had plans to meet her in the building because I spent too much time snapping morning-glory moments a while before. But she met me on the tar.
Head down and blue eyes blue.
“Oh, Momma, there’s no music today.”
And my heart said I know.
And we came home after errands and library and a lollipop and she settled in to her studies and I hung laundry and answered messages and thought about dinner and sat down up-ended and down-right hardened and tired and I listened, but I couldn’t hear it either.
And my eyes filled and my lashes fluttered wet and I finished dishes and got ready for the next thing, but I looked around for something to dance to.
Because I know it’s there.
I just can’t breathe it in right now.
I hear it when they laugh and it echoes smiling in this heart of mine. I see it when I pick up my camera and capture the way a petal falls folded on the stem. I read it when David unabashedly praises the One who made him. I feel it when a lovely momma I know spoke deep encouragement in my ear.
I know it’s there.
The melodies that wrap me snug to Him and secure in faith and keep these two left feet waltzing.
But I can’t seem to touch it right now.
But I know it’s there.
And I will trust that. That it’s there.
While it’s quiet.
I will trust Him.
While it’s silent.
I will wait.
For the music.
Be merciful to me O God, for in You my soul takes refuge… I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfills His purpose for me… my heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast! I will sing and make melody… Awake O harp and lyre… I will sing praises to You for Your steadfast love is great to the heavens, Your faithfulness to the clouds… Psalm 57