this entry is mostly for my own brain, try to understand at your own risk

On the way home from grocery shopping with WonderGirl, I switched over to the classical music station and had that annoying experience that all us ex-performance majors have when we listen to NPR during the daytime - "I KNOW I've played this symphony - what the heck is it??"  Most orchestral pieces have generic names followed by numbers and I can't remember which is Mozart's 34th symphony or Haydn's 116th until I hear the name and it takes me back to the specific hours I sat rehearsing it and I say "DUH!"

Raise your hand if that happens every flipping day.

The frustrating thing is, I have a short list of orchestra pieces I actually enjoyed playing and as I listened to it, I knew it was on that list.  But for the life of me I could not remember the name.  By the time I got home, I couldn't leave the car until I knew what it was.  I sent WG inside and sat in the dark garage, seeing Maestro Brusilow shape the sound before me in my lowly seat in the 2nds and let the sound wash over me.  It just kept getting better and better and I drifted back into my latest brain ramblings.

Michael's recovery will be slow and painful, but he is with us, and I have to be thankful for that.  I remember kneeling by my bed after I heard about Megan's accident, begging God to let her stay here with her family, even though she was already gone.  None of us get out of this alive, no matter how hard we pray.  What's the point of praying then, if sometimes it's just inevitable, sometimes it's just time?

I'm not going to say I know.  The point I've been shaping in my head is that my job at least is that I'm supposed to recognize all the blessings and tender mercies that come from either situation, knowing I'll have to experience both more in this life, and live for the next life.  Michael was run over by a car, but news trickles in about how his injuries could have been far worse.  I'm supposed to hope for the best - ask for the best - even when I don't know what that is, and look for the light in what actually happens.  It is easier at 32 than it was at 16.  I'm so thankful for the knowledge and comfort my faith gives me.

I just rewrote that paragraph about 14 times.  I don't know if it makes sense, but sitting in my dark car, it made a little sense to me.  By the end of the song, my eyes were wet and I was SO impatient to hear what the name was of the song had comforted me just right - Strauss' Death and Transfiguration.  Of course.

Comments

Jane said…
That's one of those personal blurb stories that come at the end of the Ensign.
We pray often for what we want and the Lord gives us what he knows is best. Sometimes the two don't gel and sometimes they do. It's the accepting it after that makes the difference.
Elizabeth said…
That happens to me quite often when I listen to NPR...and that is one of my favorite pieces...beautiful...

That paragraph totally made sense. You know, I think that sometimes Heavenly Father waits to give an intended blessing until someone actually asks for it. When He doesn't intend to give the blessing, I think we still get scores of blessings because we took the time to talk with Him about it and ask in the first place. Especially when we tag the often hard to say and truly mean 'thy will be done' onto our prayers.

Glad to hear Michael is doing a little better. I hope it continues in that direction.
Maria said…
This is beautifully written, Reva. You have a lovely point of view to share and I'm glad you do. I'm so sorry to hear about Michael, and I hope he recovers well.

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