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.
No comments:
Post a Comment