Reeds and Wind
I pulled the harmonica out recently. Now there is worship. Simple worship, and right before I go to sleep.
It used to be that I pursed my lips and tongue for single-note accuracy. Almost like the pitch pipe our choir leader used in primary grades. But it is an organ, and intended for the blending of different notes, for chording. Even when a mistake is made, it seems as if the sound of the other notes will see the music through.
I used to wonder at people who could play any instrument by ear. I thought that it took the sheet music and laborious technical accuracy. But the creativity that I have experienced in writing poems has shown me that it is not up to me at all. I just enter in and enjoy the process.
So now I present my wind to those simple little reeds, and let the music happen. Someone much more expert than I designed the shiny little toy and made it work.
Perhaps reading this post, you will come to realize that we are mere reeds, and that the Holy Spirit of God is the only wind worthy of making the music.
When my dear Father was in his last days in the hospital room, he labored for his breath. In my last visit he was not conscious, but I spoke to him anyway. I told him of my love. I read the story of Lazarus (John 11). I told myself that it was probably my last chance to listen to him breathe...here.
He now makes music, glorious music "on the other side of the wall". Perhaps he remembers that little harmonica his Son played.