Everyone’s life is a song. Or perhaps more of a symphony.
Joyful music is played during the happiest of times, like our birth, those years of finding out who we really are and discovering our unique purpose in life. When we are children there are gentle harmonies full of sweetness and energy. But if we experience trauma, like our parents divorce or we suffer abuse, the music turns discordant and solemn and the rhythm is lost.
Finding the love of your life is the uplifting sound of two instruments blending harmoniously. There are also mournful melodies, when life is met with sorrow and loss, when you lose someone you love or forget who you really are and lose your way.
One thing about this symphony of ours ~ there is always movement. We may feel stuck in a season and tire of the same notes being played over and over. But just as the roots of a tree grow deepest during winter, when everything appears dead to the naked eye, something is always happening. The music is always flowing.
When someone becomes a caregiver, their life feels like only the minor keys of a piano are being played. It could become a beautiful piece of music, but in the daily struggle, they can’t see the beauty. They just see the difficulty. The sharp notes of their life, together with their loved one’s life form an endless staccato rhythm they can’t escape.
I understand this, all too well. I’m incessantly pushing against a turnstile that won’t budge. I keep trying to gain entrance…to the next phase, the next chapter, the next place, but I am denied access. Eventually I stop pressing against the future and learn how to rest in the arms of the Great Composer.
And this, right here, is one of the sweetest moments of my life. I’ve discovered that when I enter into and remain in His Presence, the joy and peace He gives me is more glorious than anything the next chapter could ever hold.
This is what my soul has been clamoring for. This was where I was created to be – with my Creator. Listening to Him sing over me and speak to me in times of joy and times of sorrow. He knows exactly what to say to my weary frame. I was created as His instrument that only He knows how to play. He stirs music from within me and I am overwhelmed that what I saw as discordant notes coming out of my pain and sorrow are essential to the song of my life.
My symphony isn’t finished yet. Yours isn’t either.
We long for the rapturous melody of joy in our lives. But our joy can only be as great as the sorrow and loss we experience. I’m not saying we should seek out sorrow and loss. What I am saying is that whatever pain lies in our past or present, our Creator longs to fill up that valley in our soul with His healing and perfect love.
If we yield to our Maker, He will transform every tedious, wearisome, monotonous day, and every season of sorrow, suffering and loss into a beautiful symphony only He can compose.
I will hear it one day. You will hear yours one day. He can hear them already.