Attending one of my daughter’s last concerts this side of college graduation, my mind was swimming with thoughts and worries of the next steps. Taking a deep prayerful breath, a whisper broke through the pre-performance chatter.
“Do not be anxious, be still, take a breath and breathe in the masterpiece before you.”
My eyes opened to the most majestic sights and sounds. This sanctuary, with wooden beams towering over marble floors and finely upholstered pews, back dropped by an incredible pipe organ and a splendid stained glass window, an altar that still held remnants of communion services and a crystal baptismal fount. A masterpiece of architecture and artistry.
As the musicians entered, the audience fell silent. Again, I heard “breathe in the masterpiece”.
The choir began with angelic melodies blended with softly beautiful harmonies. A young man sat on the front pew, enveloped in every note, his fingers dancing on piano keys that only he could see. A masterpiece of flesh and bone who heard music like no other.
My daughter emerged, her clarinet in hand, joining the rest of her quintet. The first public performance of this newly formed group was masterful, each musician, expertly presented their respective instrument, combining seamlessly into one beautiful voice. A masterpiece of intertwined notes.
The evening continued as she accompanied a vocal soloist, and remained on stage as a soprano in the university concert choir. The event concluded with a standing ovation, photos, handshakes and conversations of how she is a pleasure to work with. My papa bear pride was bursting at the seams. As others saw an accomplished musician, I saw a two-year-old in pigtails making up silly songs plucking guitar strings, a five-year-old rushing through piano lessons to get outside to play, and hours of a honking middle school clarinet, all rolled into one amazing masterpiece.
At a restaurant with a table full of friends that know how to show up when parents are buying, the topics ranged from the craziness of the concert that only the participants would recognize, to the challenges that the next week would bring. At one end of the table, I watched in amazement at the adults these children are becoming. Again, a whisper caught my attention:
“I know the plans I have for you and for them. These are not for you to see yet, but trust that I hold them in my hands and watch what I will do. For now, simply sit back and breathe in the masterpiece.”
Perhaps I’ve breezed past too many masterpieces and needed a reminder of the hands that made them all. To think less, look more and breathe in the masterpieces of every inch of God’s magnificent handiwork: that is the whisper I needed to hear; a breath to my weary soul.
Breathing in Masterpieces
And Blessed in Great Measure
If you have breathed in Masterpieces, send me a note at John@BlessedInGreatMeasure.com. I love to hear good stories.
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