Thursday, June 30, 2011

The Symphony of My Days

I sit on the little bench pulled close to the keyboard. My heart is pounding; my hands shaking. I have practiced the music for hours. I know the notes, the rhythm. She sits close beside, this teacher who is friend - filled with such grace and kindness. I fumble my way through the song, heart sinking. It sounds as though I never practiced a note, and I am so discouraged - yet again.

I apologize for notes played wrong, and she smiles, says it is fine. Gently she encourages me to stop being so hard on myself - to let perfectionism go. It is all right not to play it exactly as written - to miss a note here and there. I nod agreement all the while knowing that, although she is right, I will still try to get it right.

It is a life-long habit, this trying to win approval by being as good as I possibly can. It is an exercise in futility. I will never be all things to all people. I will fail; I will be wrong (oh dear!); there will be some people who just plain don't like me. But the striving has gotten me into places I never wanted to go. So I ask Him to change this perfectionist heart. And He gives me a picture:

I see Him, long before I was conceived, sitting with pen in hand and a long roll of blank sheet music before Him. He looks ahead in time, my life playing out in its entirety. He dips His pen in the ink and begins to write the symphony of my days.

The melody takes form - beautiful and lilting - until a discordant note makes its way onto the staff. Instead of reaching for the white-out, He continues forming notes on lines and spaces, some lovely some so out of tune.

He doesn't crumble up the paper in frustration and toss it in the trash. He keeps composing - incorporating the notes made up of the wrong choices, failures and rebellion of an all-too-human heart into the song.

When He is finished, He picks up the music and seats Himself at the grand piano. I wait, heart pounding, to hear the discordant music of my life. His hands move gently over the keyboard and liquid notes pour into the room - a beautiful melody of grace and love.

He turns to me and holds my gaze with eyes that look deep within my heart and simply nods slowly.

Linking to Emily's imperfect prose today



  1. Oh Linda,

    What a precious gift you've given us I write this through tears...thank you for sharing this wondrous vision.

    All for GOD,

  2. i think He wrote a beautiful song in you...this was a lovely piece...smiles.

  3. linda... this was divinely inspired. i am so touched. i hope many get the chance to read this. i am going to fall asleep tonight thinking of this, thinking of him playing out my broken notes in beautiful melody... love you.

  4. Beautiful metaphor of God's tender mercies, Linda

    Jason tells me no fireworks for Texas due to the dryness, but our hearts are celebrating with great JOY that we have 3 solid days of gold coming up!
    Jason has Monday off from work and we are thrilled!
    *Have a very Happy Fourth of July weekend*

  5. This is so beautiful, Linda.
    I don't think you've ever
    written anything that has
    moved me more. Thank you.