If the walls of my home could speak...or sing...or play tunes...my, what wonderful sounds would delight my heart. Blessed sounds would return from all those seemingly endless years of piano and hammer dulcimer lessons, with the countless hours of practice. Or the sounds of my kids, as toddlers, marching around the house banging on pots while Daddy played his harmonica to When the Saints Go Marching In. Then they began singing Wee Sing or Patch the Pirate songs at the top of their lungs. As they grew older, beautiful hymns or other Christian arrangements, along with a variety of other melodious tunes filled the air. Their friends would visit, and would play-along or sing-along. As my kids matured, so did their music. There was never a day in our home that we did not have live music being played or sung. The musical sounds were a part of who we were as a family.
Josh used to say he dreamed music...and it was like another language to him. We would be awakened in the middle of the night to sounds of his hammer dulcimer music, as he had jumped out of bed to try a new composition or new technique. Daily through the years, we never tired of his banging, plucking or tap dancing on the instrument that seemed to have been chosen by God for our boy.
When Rebekah was contemplative...she played her piano. When she was hurt, or upset...she played her piano, banging out the music. When she was happy...she went straight to her piano. She would often pray as she played.
Can you imagine what our house was like after the nest became empty? The piano stood silent...the dulcimer was gone. Left behind were sounds...of silence. For a time, the music had ceased in my life. It felt to me like a death in the family. In time, God soothed and healed this mama's grieving heart...and He taught me the music was still there...only in a different way. My ears had not yet been trained to hear it...and along with the music, my joy returned.
This week my daughter's family came for dinner. As she always does when visiting, Rebekah went to her old piano...took out her old hymn book...and began playing away. But with one difference. At her side was her little one, Andrah Kate, banging away too, making the most beautiful ruckus, adding her own musical sounds to the walls of our home. Perhaps the expression is a bit trite, but I cannot resist using it..."and the beat goes on."