Posts Tagged ‘Music’

There’s music in the air here. 

You didn’t think it was all imagination, 



did you now? 

It’s in the wind as it batters rugged coastlines, 

whispers over green pastures, 

whistles through winding streets.

It’s in the waves as they crash against the rocky shore, 

against the ancient harbors of this land of fisher folk. 

It’s in the breath of livestock as they plod their verdant pastures.

It’s in the seagulls’ cries. 

And somehow through the ages this land, 

as every land, 

created its own music. 

A wealth of hymns, folk, Celtic, pop and bag pipe songs that get your feet tapping

and also give your heart

a delicious little ache. 

I’ll share one with you now. 

From a collection of Scottish tunes given to me by John in the months leading up to our marriage. 

He knew the power of music in winning a girl’s heart. 

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A blip came to the sameness of my life

(that’s where I’ve been, trying to ride it out). 

The news at first neither happy nor sad. 

Changing everything and nothing

all at once. 

Not like in the early days

of moving continents, moving cities, moving lives. 

When I never knew from one month to the next

where I might be, 

what British or European city I’d have the pleasure of exploring, 

just me and my camera and my thoughts. 

Here in America, everything feels so far away, 

but of course life happens all the same. 

And when you have three little men 

all around you like a daisy chain, 

(sometimes like a fence), 

you have to move a lot more slowly

than you’d sometimes like. 

And so the blip, and nothing’s the same and everything is at once, 

and it all might mean a long trip to Scotland later this year, 

but that is all later and not now. 

And I can see just one corner of one piece of the puzzle of my life,

and seeing pieces can get me excited, 

full of dreams,

make me fear that when it’s all together, it might not look the way I’d hoped.  

Waiting is like that–hope, and fear, and anger, and sometimes peace. 

Or the way I am today, realizing there’s a hand working those puzzle pieces, 

setting them in place. 

A hand, and I know it’s not mine. 

And it can take my breath away,

seeing life return to the earth in the form of tender green, 

acknowledging that my own life is not in my hands

(and thank goodness), 

but that LOVE Himself knows all the days, all the plans, all the tomorrows of my life.

And that He not only knows them, but He’s planned them long in advance.  

With one hand behind me, and one hand before, He guides me, keeps me, 

though I cannot feel it, 

and I do not see. 

Some words stick with you, 

drift in and out of your mind and heart, 

and these I learned at our first church in Scotland, 

surrounded by those dear ones who would become lifelong friends. 

I remember the piano, the frayed red hymn books, the voices raised in unison


In heavenly love abiding, no change my heart shall fear.
And safe in such confiding, for nothing changes here.
The storm may roar without me, my heart may low be laid,
But God is round about me, and can I be dismayed?

Wherever He may guide me, no want shall turn me back.
My Shepherd is beside me, and nothing can I lack.
His wisdom ever waking, His sight is never dim.
He knows the way He’s taking, and I will walk with Him

Green pastures are before me, which yet I have not seen.
Bright skies will soon be over me, where darkest clouds have been.
My hope I cannot measure, my path to life is free.
My Savior has my treasure, and He will walk with me.

– Anna L. Waring

Though sameness,

or blips of both the smallest and most painful types,

so often leave me paralyzed, 

from weariness or fear,

at times I remember 

to embrace the stillness,

and in the sound of the wind in the trees out my door, 

or in the stirring notes of my favourite song,

I am turned to Him who thinks of me more times than I can count,

who never makes even one mistake, 

who knows all the good plans He has for me,

who holds all my moments, 

all my days. 

And I am left to meditate, 



At all He’s doing, 

all He’s done, 

and in the fact that He’s not finished with me, 

not just just yet. 

Which piece of music or spot in nature stirs your heart, 

is able to draw you away from the happenings (or non-happenings) in your life, 

and helps you to meditate, wonder, and awe?

Miserere Mei Deus – Psalm 51 – by Italian composer Gregorio Allegri in the 17th century for use in the Sistine Chapel.

Shivers, shivers . . .

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A little cry breaks the breath,

the sound of the furnace as it warms the chill of these rooms,

makes the red living room curtains dance.

I rush to feed him, lay him back down, hoping for bit more time with my thoughts.

Any moment, another will call out.

And with the words, “Me ‘wake” our day will begin.

Breakfast, with toast crumbs, and sticky honey, and spilled milk (always there is spilled milk).

And sometimes giggles, and little voices lifted to sing our morning prayer.

Other times fights over who gets the blue bowl.

Or someone falling off his chair (twice) followed by hysterical tears.

And I try not to sigh. I try to remember.

The song I am writing

with this, my life.

The song they’ll be singing when they go.

What will they remember, when they go from me?

What are the notes that will dance, involuntarily, through their heads?

Notes of discord, notes of complaint?

A tune of sighs and “why”s?

Or those of grace?

Of overlooking others’ faults.

Sometimes with “I forgive you.”

Other times with silence. Ignoring that burning desire to point it out.

Lyrics of love?

Of my love, and God’s love, for them.

With myself I play it. I play my life’s song.

With my words and my hands and my feet.

With the way I do what needs to be done

(and there is a lot that needs to be done).

With the way I smile as I sweep it, wipe it, clean it up.

Put it back where it belongs. Again.

With the song of thanksgiving that I speak with my tongue

and in my heart

for all we have.

For these little ones, for their daddy.

Singing their own song that I help to write.

I can hear them now. Stirring. Scampering.

The day begins.

The song begins.

My life goes on, the song is endless.

And no part, no day, can be redone.

But each day, each moment, is new.

Each day, the song

it must be written.

And with all I have

all I’ve been given.

How can I keep

how can I keep from singing?


The Lord will command His lovingkindness in the daytime; And His song will be with me in the night, A prayer to the God of my life.

~Psalm 42:8


If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be  a merrier world.

~ J.R.R. Tolkien




May the words I say
And the things I do
Make my lifesong sing
Bring a smile to You

~ Casting Crowns


My life goes on in endless song
Above earth’s lamentations,
I hear the real, though far-off hymn
That hails a new creation.

Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear it’s music ringing,
It sounds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?



You might also be inspired by Castle Stone, Cottage Moss https://happylittlesigh.com/2013/09/20/if-youre-scared-to-go-or-you-cant-bear-to-stay/

Avonlea x

Happy Little Sigh

Finding beauty in the everyday

Find me on Facebook/MeWe/Instagram @HappyLittleSigh

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