Be There In A Minute. I'm Almost Done -- Inktober 30 #violin

 

 

I chuckled at the Inktober prompt for today, because the word violin pretty much invaded my childhood.  

My mom played violin for 80 years as a performer and violin teacher.  She practiced everyday, capturing every pocket of available time, sometimes even late at night in the bathroom, thinking that the vent fan masked the sound (which it didn't).

When mom was in the middle of practicing, she was in a different world.  We would sneak into the living room where she was ferociously working on a piece of music.  She'd look at us, her four children with a blank stare, as if wondering who we were. 

"Supper?" one of us would venture to ask.  I don't think it occurred to her that we would need to eat that day.  "Oh," she would finally reply. "Be there in a minute.  I'm almost done."  And then plunge back into the music, not missing a beat, often the exact measure where she'd left off.

We became really proficient at cooking boxes of macaroni and cheese. And heating up cans of Chef Boy-Ar-Dee ravioli.

She knew a lot of music, but continually practiced not just the notes or the melody, but the really hard parts of a piece over and over, driving the family crazy, until those impossible passages became her favorite parts. 

Practicing is not going though the motions, but a type of intense devotion.  It is an exercise in making us stronger, going deeper, learning something new, working on the unfamiliar, not "getting it right," but knowing it intimately, what is there and what it can do, a kind of falling in love with it, be it music, or another such pursuit, training for a marathon, discovering a cure, or practicing grace in volatile circumstances.  

Mom was a professional violinist.  But her violin had everything to do about ministry, whether as a soloist, orchestra member, playing at nursing homes, gathering together an ensemble for the evening service at church, or practically adopting her high school violin students.  As I witnessed throughout my life, her violin was not just about music. It was not just a carved piece of wood that brought forth beautiful sounds, but how she loved God and loved other people.   Her violin opened doors to building relationships and healing hearts. 

I will sing a new song unto You, O God. Upon a psaltery and an instrument of ten strings will I sing praises unto You.   Psalm 144.9 

She only had four strings, but she definitely made them sing.

When Mom met young people, she would not ask them if they played an instrument, she inquired, "What instrument do you play?'

If she were still here today, she would ask each of us the same.  "What instrument do you play?"  And are you practicing it daily?

Because God has given each of us an instrument of some sort to bring His glory to this world.  We all have ministries to pursue, to practice, and to share with others.   An instrument has nothing to do with having a special talent, but a willing and faithful heart. And working on it.

Practice these things, immerse yourself in them, so that all may see your progress. 1 Timothy 4.15

As St. Francis of Assisi wrote (1181-1226):  "Lord, make me an instrument of your peace...."

What instrument are we playing today in this situation?  It is a gift from God.

Never stop practicing.