My daughter loves music. Has ever since she was a baby. She may look exactly like her Daddy, but the music? She gets that from me.
We listen to music in the classroom, in the car, in the backyard on her iPod. And it’s all kinds of music. We go from Mozart to Putumayo Kids, from Glenn Miller to Journey. She’s just as likely to belt out “Dancing Queen” as she is to hum Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 while she does her math. We permeate the air around us with music, so it’s no wonder that my girl breathes it all in and exhales her own lyrics and melodies, dancing her way through life like the little fairy sprite she is.
She likes to seclude herself in the upstairs playroom to work on her new pieces, not letting a single note be heard until she declares its perfect place in her composition. Kevin and I loved to hear her announce an after-dinner performance. We clapped and “Brava”-ed and gave standing ovations at every front room recital.
She put away her Literature binder, then turned to me and asked, “Do you want to hear my new song?” Her eyes shone with excitement, anticipating my answer.
“You bet!” I replied, wondering what she’d come up with now.
She grabbed her plastic microphone, and proceeded to pierce my heart with the lyrics she’d composed. They were not fancy or elaborate or groundbreaking. But they were God’s voice, speaking to me through my seven-year-old daughter.
“One, two, three,
If you listen to me,
You can find you can do anything.”
I’ve been struggling lately, unsure about this new life I have to live without Kevin. It’s hard. I hate it. I was promised a lifetime of love and happiness in all the wedding cards we received. Not one single card mentioned that his life would be much too short. I miss him every single minute of every single day.
When the loneliness overwhelms, I don’t always remember that I’m not truly alone; God is walking this path with me. It’s funny that I forget that now, when for five years of chemo treatments and CT scans, I always reminded Kevin of that fact:
“We’re not alone in this, babe,” I would try to encourage him. “Can’t you see we’re only surviving this because our friends and family are holding us up to God? He is with us, He is not letting go of us…not for one single minute.”
He didn’t then.
And He still isn’t.
But this week has been hard, and my faith’s been taking a hit, and when the grief takes me down and I forget He’s with me, and I won’t just be still and know He is God, He sends his message through the voice of my daughter, His beautiful creation:
“If you listen to me…”
If I listen to His words, I can find comfort and peace. “Let not your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me.” (John 14:1)
“You can find you can do anything…”
If I listen to His words, I can find the strength to get through the days that seem impossible, when the seconds tick He’s gone, He’s gone and I can’t imagine getting through the next hour, much less the next day or the next years. “But the Lord stood at my side and gave me strength.” (2 Timothy 4:17)
And I remember the verse from Zephaniah I selected for Kevin’s funeral service: “The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.”
Sometimes His singing sounds an awful lot like my girl with her plastic microphone.
After turning over the stage to her purple Hello Kitty for the song’s bridge, she belted out the big finish (every song has one) and then looked at me and asked, “Was it good, Mama? Did you like it?”
Thanking God for this beautiful girl and His beautiful message, I answered, “I LOVED it!”