I was tinkering on the piano today, when Poppy (4) – dressed in no less than two dresses – climbed up beside me and started playing along.
The proximity was good, but not close enough, apparently.
She shuffled herself (and her dresses) onto my lap and nestled herself securely there, happy to play her music right in the middle of my own.
“I’m part of your song, Mommy,” she exclaimed, as she accented my chords with her own inventive tinkering.
And it struck me.
Here, wrapped in the warm bliss of this feathery, flamboyant little heart, is a part of my song in the world. She is a part of all that I’m here for: a heart to carry on the love of the Father. What kind of glory gift is this?
A great mystery, these grace notes called life; but, oh, how sweet the music.
Let it play on, and on, and on…