How I Approach Music

"I long to live in restful sincerity of heart. I want to live so fully in the Spirit that all my thoughts may be as sweet incense ascending to Thee and every act of my life may be an act of worship." -A.W. Tozer

Sitting behind the set this Sunday, my heart still beating quickly, rhythmically although my drumsticks were now still, I listened to the words above which were a part of our Sunday worship. 

 I was still, every part of me, and God reminded me, once again, that playing these drums is for Him. Sometimes I look at everyone sitting out there and think about them, I think about me and my performance, me and my lacking.

But most often I am thinking about both my heavenly Dad and my earthly Dad.

My dad played the drums at our church.

 I close my eyes and feel the music and I think about the time one of my teenage friends said: "When your dad closes his eyes and plays, it's like he is worshiping God while he is drumming."

That is what I want each tap of the high hat, each boom of the bass, each hit of the snare, and brush of the cymbal to be, a worshipful act.

I want my life to be music that evokes a sweet longing in others and a smile on God's face.

Music, for me, is the handiwork of God. Creative genius that He has given someone whether they know it or not. It flows throughout me, I cannot help but dance, whether the action is visible to anyone else I do not know.

Music is constantly in my head whether there is any outside of it. I've embarrassed friends by breaking into song in public places. I skip and I sing, I smile and twirl. My son and I throw rhymes back and forth on a regular basis. I often accompany words with a beat and a jig when talking to him.  

In Heaven no restraint will be needed. 

I will burst into song when I get there and my feet will continually dance along the streets of gold.

And God will say: "Emily, your life was beautiful music.I'm glad to have you home."

Listening Eyes

I am the student that college professors finally land on and look at for 75% of their lecture. I guess it is because my parents never let me get away with eyes wandering if they were speaking. "Look at me while I am talking to you." It shows someone that what they have to say is important, that was what I was taught. 

Beginning in my youth, I had people in parks and grocery stores telling me their stories, their worries and fears. I cannot think of why else except that, when they looked into my eyes, they felt I would listen. 

When a child speaks to me, I try my best to turn my eyes on them just the same as any adult because I believe what they have to say it just as important as anyone else. I find myself frowning when an adult trivializes what a child has to say. 

 Many translate my constant wonder and smile to naivety. Many take my quietness as a lack of cleverness. Many assume my quiet voice comes from timidity. Many think I am weird for the things I do say. I have had to learn that most people are not good listeners and this is because most people have a thirst to be heard. They will try to quench it even at the expense of others. 

So, I try to listen.

Sometimes I want to be listened to. I want to not be the girl who yells: "got it!" only for someone to hurdle themselves in front of me and steal the show. The volleyball court of life. Sometimes I want to answer for myself. Sometimes I get nervous when all eyes finally do turn on me, I am not used to it. Always, I thank God for friends who turn to me, look at me, and ask: "Emily, what do you think?"

And listen.