Snow blows outside; a fire burns within. A song plays softly in the background, drawing my soul to places unseen. My husband is the musician, not me. I don’t know how to stay on pitch or in tune or how to carry a note (except to the mailbox). I’m not educated on the theories of music or the art of making it. But, oh, how I love music! I love sweet melodies, good rhythms, intense pieces. I am moved by songs, touched deep by lyrics, brought low and lifted high with a strum and a drum. For as long as I can remember I wanted to sing. I wanted to get emotion and words and thoughts out in beautiful music. I was entranced by girls who could write music, play a guitar, and sing with a voice that stayed in your head. I yearned for that…and then laid it down, for that was not my gift to open. Honestly I thought I’d be sadder, but I found hope and joy in knowing I wasn’t at a loss for gifts. I have been given them, and they are many. God has not shortchanged my life; it is I who fall short by not seeing all He has offered.
I look in “her” life and want and then I miss the very thing I have been given. I yearn for what I do not have and leave dormant what I do. I place on high what I see there and devalue the riches I have left unopened on the floor. Do we wonder why we miss so much of life; why we long so? Do we really not know? Do we think it is because God has withheld? Yes, I have thought as much; only to be brought low…very low…and then I open my eyes. There on the floor lay all the unopened gifts, the discarded riches, the overlooked love of the Father. He had to bring me down that I may see where I had put Him.
The low place seems an unfair trade – a place of punishment and sometimes loneliness. I have pounded hard there, poured many tears in that place, laid in anguish and weariness on that hard slab. But never have I risen the same. If I grab no other gift in that place, I clasp the very thing that will help me receive all others…surrender. If I do no other act while there in humility, I will do that. I must, or I will not live, will not love. I must be freed up if I am to be filled up by Him.
Tears may still fall, heart may still wrench, thoughts may still spin, but I have the gift that will bring healing and hope to it all. I have the gift that will remind me how to hold the others. I have the gift that will shed light on all I’ve been given so that I may never forget the riches of His glorious Spirit.
Thank you, Father, for being with me…no matter where I am.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,”
the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.