Sunday, March 24, 2013

Oh Mandolin



This morning,  in our large city church,  I heard a live mandolin for the first time in too long.  It was a haunting, lovely sound that echoes somewhere deep in my soul.  It conjured up a million mountain memories of growing up in Tennessee.  It made me smile, and it made me cry.  It made me both happy and sad.  I felt like a mere girl in braids with summer freckles hearing the pluck and strum those high pitch strings.  I remembered my little country church. I remembered the sounds of a praying preacher.  I remembered the feeling of faith as a little girl. 

It was good.

Time changes things sometimes.  It changes how we view things and feel things.  But sometimes a simple, familiar sound becomes an instant transport to the child inside.  It awakens the dreamer, stirs again the childlike heart, and grows a few more feathers on the wings of faith.

It is good.

B Charmer

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