A mesmerizing tune on the piano

Suddenly I’m in the piano mode.  Hadn’t been playing too much, yet I’d been asked to play the next Sunday.  “Lord, what do I play?”  Could be out of a book.  Could be something loosely in my head.  I sorted through handwritten notes and a stash of books and came upon a Jim Brickman piece called “Winter Waltz.”  The minor key grabbed me, and I liked that the phrases gave option for slowing and quickening.  Soon certain parts of the music became almost mesmerizing.  Each time I turned to the third page, three particular measures drew me in.  They became far more than blots of ink on a page.  I must have played those notes at least 20 times over the week, and they left me almost numb, as if unyielding to any threats to disrupt the aura.  It was just me, in my little house, given nothing the rest of the world knew about.  Yet this “nothing” was wonderful.  The Lord had put a mountain in my front room and led me to its highest point to experience His answer to my prayer.  He had shown me the piano piece to play on Sunday.

Being – with the little church

It’s my one-month anniversary for attending a weekday group with a nearby church.  My schedule is different right now.  I’ve been asking the Lord where I should be, and turns out I’ve been spending one morning each week with some women of this little church.  It’s a situation of being rather than doing.  I don’t know ahead what our weekly sessions will bring.  Maybe prayer, maybe journaling, maybe Bible study.  Maybe reflecting on the Lord’s provision.  Without a prescribed list of what to do, our little group is simply available to each other.  It’s quite refreshing.  We sit in the foyer of the building, and I often have a picturesque view.  Big windows that let me touch inside and outside together.  Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still, and know that I am God . . .”  Here serenity is held in a soft blue sky, a slight breeze, and the sound of the Lord’s name. 

Beyond the anxiety

It’s too much.  Suddenly we feel crazy, having been unaware of how high the anxiety was mounting.  Neither a resounding scream nor a prolonged cry resolves anything anymore.  I watched a movie about a girl who bore the brunt of her mother’s anxieties.  From 10 years old, this girl with a sweet little freckled face endured criticisms that slowly crushed her.  Because the mom regretted her own childhood obesity, she criticized her daughter’s slight chubbiness and continued to hound her through high school and college.  Along the way, the daughter became anorexic, eventually committing suicide.  In real life, I think of one friend who has dealt with an eating disorder.  I think of friends who struggle with depression that has led them to attempt suicide.  God has connected me with these friends as blessings, as I have studied the Bible with each one.  At times they’ve wanted to crawl off the planet.  Yet in the midst of their pain, they have come to know Jesus, who lifts and replenishes them over and over.  There is hope in the name of Jesus Christ, who knows the depth of our every hurt.  When we feel swallowed by the world, we can call out to Him for help.

From "Yes, Dear" to theater

Just 5 words.  And they’re really so simple.  It was the way she posed the question.  The tension in her jaw and the low voice and the steady pace.  Something hadn’t felt right when I’d been saying my lines in the play, and here I heard Kim on TV asking, "What did you just say?"  It was one of my lines almost exactly.  Her voice inflection was convincing, and I knew the Lord was giving me her example.  He was answering my plea for help in this world of theater that’s new for me.  I didn’t plan to watch “Yes, Dear,” though He stepped my feet toward the television for a blessing.