The Making of A Song

My youngest daughter plopped in my lap and asked,
"Mom, are you a staccato?"
"A what?"
"A staccato!"  (duh)
"No, I think I'd like to be a 16th--free to dance about with no inhibitions, letting joy flow freely from my life." But we decided I was probably a quarter note . . . consistent, methodical, and sure.

Then we set about to decide what everyone else in the family might be.  My husband was the whole note, the underlying foundation keeping us all together.  Ivy was a half note, being the calm book worm sort and skilled at crafts.  Heather was the 8th note, a little bit of happy, with a party in the works, always on the move.  Tyler was the half rest.  No, I would rather be the rest.  But Tyler won out with his love of calm and intolerance for noise and chaos.  And Summer?  She was definitely the 16th.  No, she was not just a 16th, she informed me, but a stacatto 16th!  Funny, witty, light on her feet, and often found standing on her head on the couch.

But together we make a song.

Notes by themselves do not produce near the thrill of all those notes together.  What a blessing to be part of a family.  To contribute our note to the whole.  To be lifted by the notes of others lives.  We all need each other, even the rests.  All the weight of a song is sometimes held in that moment of rest.

My two youngest daughters recently played a piano duet in a recital.  I'm sure that is where the staccato question originated from.  But they have two different styles of playing.  Two different individuals, who alone can make music, but together make a fuller sound.

As I rub shoulders with various personalities around me, sometimes in conflict I forget their different note and how much I need them. They are a gift, a vital part to a song, that if we work together, we can harmonize into something beautiful in a way that could not be achieved alone.  One is not better than another, each serves a different purpose, while simultaneously contributing to the whole.

As I move into the crunch of the Christmas season and the stress stimulates some irritation, I hope I can remember my daughter's question, "Are you a staccato?"  Perhaps I will demonstrate more grace in understanding each person's place in the song, and only concern myself about playing my own part well.  Hoping to demonstrate the fruit of the Spirit in my life. . . love, joy, peace, kindness, patience, goodness, gentleness, and self-control.  Against such things there is no law.  (Gal. 5:22,23)

Owe no man anything, but to love one another.  (Rom. 13:8)