Sunday, February 26, 2012
A gift new, made do, worn out, and a bonus...
171. A gift new: Silver space-age-esque cylindrical containers which have spring-loaded pumps which dispense the salt and pepper. I hesitate to use new contraptions like this. But they look cool.
172. A gift made-do: A parking spot at the hockey game tonight. We made do because it was as far from the arena as one could park and still be in the lot. We had to walk quite a distance in the cold with wet, blowing snow beating at our faces, however, exercise is good, the snow wasn't deep and the location of the parking spot at the faraway end made the easiest exit from the crowd of 19,000 we've ever had, with no line up at all.
173. A gift nearly worn out: Singing by ear. I've been doing it since birth. In my previous post, the picture reminds me of when I first discovered that not everyone can harmonize by ear. I grew up doing it because it was what we did in my family. But we also knew how to read music. Twelve years of piano lessons and 10 years of choir ensured that. Perhaps hanging around those that harmonized by ear made it possible for me to do it too. Perhaps there is something in how we are wired. I just still remember my astonishment at discovering some very accomplished musician who couldn't. Yet. Kind of like me learning how to be grateful. Haven't quite got the gist of it but I keep practicing. Sometimes it's off key but it's more grateful than the past. Practice makes permanent.
174. A bonus gift: Listening to Eric Metaxas speak at the Feb. 2 Presidential Prayer Breakfast. In this video, his talk begins at 35:00 minute mark and ends at 1:05. He draws a clear dividing line between what is a false picture of God painted by dead religion vs. the reality of Jesus being exactly what our hearts long for. Funny, poignant, profound.
175. Another bonus: I sat down at the piano today. I have only done that once or twice in the past six years. I played one of my father's songs. The older I get, the more I realize what he must have struggled through. Makes it easier to forgive him for what he didn't (couldn't?) give me. His music lingers as a testament to his struggle to honour God and sustain faith.
"I can't help but love you," God whispers. "Trust me."
Question: As you mature, have your eyes been opened to a clearer understanding of why others may not be able to do what comes rather easily to you?