Time Travel

The pianist strikes the opening chord and words appear on the overhead screen. My breath catches; my heart swells; tears of recognition sting my eyes. 

This song is a portal to a place in time past—a place cemented in my mind. The place is unchanging as time pulls me farther and farther away. This is a place where my grandpa plays the piano in a little chapel amidst the pine trees. He plays for the sheer joy of it—all alone except for the audience of his God. Except I’m there too, drawn by the notes rising through the mountain morning air, but he doesn’t see me. Grandpa’s presence, especially Grandpa’s presence at the piano, seems as constant as the stars. It is no trouble at all for me to recall the words to the melodies he plays in his boisterous way. They come as naturally as the names of any of my boisterous family members. Those same family members sing every time we gather no matter the occasion. My past self sneaks in to listen. I am in college and possess all the vitality and curiosity of a young adult unsure of her future and simultaneously excited for it to arrive.

And now it has arrived. I stand among hundreds of women on a Monday night, in this future. We sing the familiar words and that is all it takes for me to be transported back in time through the portal of an unassuming hymn. Ambushed by the music, I’m powerless to stop the tears as they well up and roll down my face. Here I am, standing next to my daughter in this good future, marveling at the path I took to get here and grateful for the blessings generously strewn along the way. I look back on my past self with wistful tenderness. I ask her to hug Grandpa, to sit a minute longer in the back of that little chapel, receiving that timeless truth sent ahead to me by the song’s author and strengthened by those who entrusted it to me by repeating it often enough that I can sing it entirely from memory.

I carry the song forward into the future again. I look down at the blonde head of my daughter as she sings. I wonder, will it one day transport her as it did me?

I can’t read the future but I can sing the song and hope. 

I know not why God’s wondrous grace to me he hath made known, nor why, unworthy, Christ in love, redeemed me for His own. But I know Whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I’ve committed unto Him against that day.

The prettiest sounds

Just before Christmas in 2014 Elaine went with me to the music store and we came home with the tiniest violin. She was five. One morning in the spring of that year, she woke up asking for violin lessons.

"Why?" I asked.

Her response was always the same, "They make the prettiest sounds."

I waited to pursue lessons for her because she was FIVE and if this was going to be a passing fad, I didn't want to jump on board, much less throw money at it. But in the fall, as she began kindergarten, she still bugged me about violin lessons.

She turned six a month after her first lesson and her teacher said, "I've never seen a more beautiful bow hand on a child so young. And her ear? She's a natural."

I wasn't going to argue. Melodies have always come quickly and easily to Elaine. She is a deep feeler and deeply expressive. The violin is a perfect fit.

Elaine's love for the violin does not (always) translate to a love for daily practice. I insisted upon it. The money spent on lessons would NOT be wasted! We clashed. Finally I told her that if she still wanted to quit violin lessons at the end of the school year (by now she was nearly done with 1st grade) then I would let her quit. Until then, however, there would be absolutely no discussion.

June arrived. I approached her hoping I had read her correctly those few months back.

"Well Elaine," I began, "school is out. What do you think about violin? Should I tell Ms. Nancy that you want to stop lessons?"

She thought. While she thought, I thought. I had done something pretty risky, leaving it up to her, but I also knew this was necessary. She had to own it. It's so much more rewarding when you own it. Plus, if she chooses it, then she can't be so bitter about me "forcing" her. This would be HER decision and I wanted her to make it herself.

She cocked her head and looked up at me, as if trying to read my thoughts about this whole situation, "Wellllll..." she finally said, "I guess I'll keep going." Ah-HAH! I thought in exuberant victory, Mom wins again!

But really, she's the winner.

She's seven now, and can play all the songs her elementary school band (plus strings) plays. And band is only for 4th and 5th graders.

Tonight she asked to listen to music at bedtime. I picked up my iPad and prepared to pick a kids music station.

"Actually, Mommy," she said, "can you look for something with violins?"

I certainly could.

Music

Val wakes up early and cheerfully. Elaine and I wake up slowly and are prone to grouchiness.

This morning Val stood by my pillow and whispered, "Mommy! I heard someone playing beautiful music."

I hadn't heard anything (though I'm sure she had) and because I'm only slightly better at controlling my grouchiness than Elaine, I asked Val about the music. She sang a little of it for me and then concluded, "It's nice to hear music in the morning, Mommy."

I agreed and asked what her favorite kind of music was, hoping she'd talk for a while and I could eke out a few more minutes of sleep. Her reply was prompt and her request, sincere.

"Amazing Grace. Mommy, will you play that for me while I eat breakfast?"

And that's why I was playing and singing Amazing Grace for an audience of one (and then a grouchy second one) at 6:30 am.

As my sleepy brain directed my hands in a clunky version of the hymn, my heart suddenly smiled to recall the countless times I awoke to the sound of my grandpa playing beautiful music during the early morning hours of my college years.

Val doesn't remember her great-grandpa but I'm so glad they share the belief that it's nice to hear music in the morning.

Good Friday

When I Survey The Wondrous Cross - Gaither Vocal Band

This is my most favorite arrangement of this song, ever. I can't count the number of times I've listened and it still gives me goosebumps.

This was the best audio I could find in five or so minutes but the picture isn't accurate. The people singing in this recording are Bill Gaither, David Phelps, Russ Taff and Guy Penrod.