What Musical Instrument am I?

Cymbals courtesy of doctorwhofanorchestra.blogspot.com

Good Day, God!

What with our symphony and the Easter music,  I’ve been appreciating all the wonderful percussion instruments.  I love the percussion section of the orchestra. When I was a child I wanted to play the drums. How I’d love to play the timpani!

The other day a Question entered my mind. What musical instrument have I been — as I scurry around getting ready to fly off for three weeks?

My answer was Cymbals . . . clanging and clashing cymbals at that. I have been reactive and reverberating! Bump a Cymbal and you will hear about it! I am pretty sure my wonderful husband Kit has been wishing he had a noise canceling headset like the musician in this photo.

It comes to me now, God, that I have been anxious. I am always anxious before Kit runs a Marathon but this time I am also anxious about my mom. She is usually resilient and adaptive. But, I have become a sort of Security Blanket for her as well as a loving daughter. So, just the prospect of my leaving on a trip has been hard for her. Of course it is! Especially at 97! I do understand, God, but not well enough. My mother is a plaintive  Oboe — accompanied by my banging Cymbals.

Needless to say, I have NOT been Praising You, God, with harp and voice and lyre. I have been as Paul says in 1 Corinthians 13 — without love,  a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. Somehow I have been so busy packing for myself and laying in supplies for my mother that I forgot to make room for love.

Sigh. How easy it is to forget that Love is both the Beginning and the End of everything. Love is HERE inside me. But, just like flecks of gold, it sinks to the bottom of a madly rushing stream.

Ah, God. Today is a New Day. Help me Still the Waters and pan for the Gold of Love. Help me to HEAR, even as I have been heard.

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Story teller,

Posted in a prayer for healing, Compassion, compassion to care for myself, confession, Hearing, Music

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