The plastic chair push on my back and bottom with such force, you'd swear it was angry I was there. The lingering smell of lunch still can be found in the cafe-torium where my son is set to play. The lights dim and the sound of music washes over me. The melody is beautiful. To be sure, there are a few wrong notes, but couldn't the same be said of our weekly lives? Mostly, we are trying to the best of our ability to join in the song of our still singing God. Mostly, we are trying to stay in rhythm and in tune. But every day I miss notes and find myself in the wrong measure.
Most of the band is glued to the music so the director's motions seem to go mainly unnoticed. Perhaps the same can be said of my awareness of God. Trying to urge and help me, I stare intently at a screen or the musical composition of my to-do-lists.
Yet, our lives are not solos but symphonies. I sense the sacred the most when I am aware that others are playing alongside me, offering their unique ways of singing God's love to the word. When we are in harmony, life is full. And even when I miss notes, others are their to fill in the gap in melody. When there is dissonance, we search for the conductor to help us get back in tune and in rhythm. Living our lives with one eye on the One whose love has written a great score of fully life and the other eye on our way of being part of something bigger than ourselves.
God's grace found in a band concert...even on a hard plastic chair.
Not bad for a Tuesday night.
May the traces of God's grace be found in the beauty and mystery of your life this week.
Many blessings.
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