I’ve been so quiet on my blog this past year. I’m not sure I’ve added one brand new post all year long. But you should see my list of started posts. It’s lengthy! Words about travel, faith, health, weight loss, politics, random stories all left unfinished and unpublished for one reason or another. The stopper in me is strong, I tell ya. So it’s amazing to me that my little corner of the written blog world added new subscribers and readers. Thank you new blog reading friends for the attention. It encourages me to write more.
Where to start though after such a long break? As I write this, the Christmas season has begun. I’m deep into both an Advent devotional and a full out Advent bible study. Through this early morning time with my cuppa Christmassy flavored coffee and my bible, I’ve been reminded of a super long break God took from the people many, many years ago. He was silent for 400 years. I can’t even imagine. How many generations felt nothing from God? Not a glance their way. Not a whisper with a comforting word of reassurance.
But God in His infinite greatness had a plan. It was a great plan, perfectly timed. He knew He wouldn’t stay silent forever…though come on. 400 years was plenty of someone’s “forever”. Bless it! He would make His great come back with a baby. A sweet , swaddled up newborn who came to be King. Jesus.
Jesus who would be the Light of the World , the Resurrection and the Life, the King of Kings, the Messiah.
Hold on there! Do you ever see something, hear something , smell something and you’re transported back in time to a memory? Lots of things do that for me. But right now, it’s the words “King of Kings” and “Messiah”. Right there, together, side by side. I have the sweetest childhood memory that involves those words. Let me take you back there with me , Dear Reader.
I was 7 or 8. Maybe 9 or 10. Who knows? It’s been over 50 years and who can remember all the things anymore? I may not remember how old my little self was but I do remember exactly how I felt when my mom asked me to help her play the Hallelujah Chorus for a performance of Handel’s Messiah. My mother has been an incredible organist for as long as I can remember. I was a little girl just beginning to learn to play the piano. But she had full confidence that I could play three little notes for her and be the needed third hand she must’ve desperately needed . Or maybe she could’ve done it and just wanted this mother/daughter moment. Whatever, it was a confidence booster for her novice, nervous piano student.
At any rate, my shy, timid little self (don’t be fooled by this photo that makes me look far more outgoing than I actually was!) set out to make my momma proud playing those three little notes behind the words “KING OF KINGS”. Actually, it was six because those same three notes accompanied the next words in the song, “LORD OF LORDS.” As a full grown adult woman, I sing a lot. Humming around the house, music playing in my home 90% of the day. I can feel confident that this habit likely began in those days when I was practicing for my big Messiah moment with my momma. I can almost hear my little voice, humming or singing the notes that went along with “King of Kings and Lord of Lords.”
Names of Jesus on repeat in my young, impressionable head.
Did my mother know the impact this would have on the entirety of my life? Did I? I don’t know. She was probably hopeful I’d develop a love of piano playing and maybe become a great organist one day. Maybe her love of music would develop in me. I’m certain she was hopeful I’d love Jesus forever. Some of these things stuck.
Jesus. He stuck. In my young and impressionable mind, those weeks of practicing my part in the Hallelujah chorus, singing through those names of Jesus over and over again….it was like the beginning of super gluing Him to my heart. I just wanted to do a good job. I didn’t want to mess up or embarrass myself or my mom. I’m sure that’s all it meant to me at the time . But those words, unbeknownst to myself in those moments, were speaking life into my soul.
The words we say to ourselves have power.
Choose them wisely! Your words to yourself should mimic the words your Creator says about you. You are loved, able, perfectly created, healed, strong, forgiven and so on! And if you’re a parent, choose the words you say to your children even more wisely! They’re gonna stick, whether they’re great affirming words or life sucking words. I say again, choose those words wisely!
I’m so grateful I was raised in a home by parents who loved me and spoke well to me. They never ever even cursed in our presence. But piano seems to be one of those skills you lose if you don’t use it . I recently had the chance to spend an entire week with my parents. Just me and them. It was fabulous. My mom still has a piano in the living room so, of course, I had to sit down on the piano bench and see if any notes would come back to me. I searched Mom’s music for something I could play with my right hand. I can still bang out a pretty decent treble clef only song. I found a hymn…of course…and started playing it. It didn’t take long for my mom to come into the room, taking over that pesky bass clef part that I couldn’t for the life of me play at the same time my right hand was playing. Playing piano with my mom …again. Creating a song together. Another sweet memory. We were both so excited that we could make out the song we were playing in spite of the fact that it’s been a good long minute since I played anything.
I guess I figured out where to start again after my rather long writing break. Jesus is always the right answer! Maybe now I can go back and address all those unfinished blog stories!
Until next time…which I hope is sooner rather than later… keep JOYFULLY clamoring!
Joyfully Clamoring 