May 06, 2009 Music is flooding my soul this morning. First off, a chorus of birds woke me at 5:25. I had the distinct feeling they were saying, "It's too glorious a day to waste sleeping." I didn't heed their wake-up call — well, I didn't get up anyway — I just listened, and thought, and waited for the alarm 20 minutes later. But their serenade set the pace for my morning, building a bridge to the next rhythm my soul heard. Typically, we take our meds and vitamins, sit down together while Mike's thyroid medicine gets into his system. During that few minutes we read a Scripture and devotional and have a little prayer time before we eat breakfast — in other words, armor up for the day. Having both forgotten to pick up the May devotional available at our church, we'd been using one called Our Daily Bread. The devotional Mike read this morning was title An Ocean of Ink.
Memories of my mom flooded my thinking. After Mike headed to work, I went looking for that title, figuring I'd find it under May 4, but I had to hunt 'til I found it under March 4. Apparently Mike had begun at the beginning of the booklet instead of going directly to May. Anyway, as I expected, some of the words from the hymn "The Love of God" were quoted, and I was transported back to my childhood. I could hear my mom playing the piano as she sang:
"Could we with ink the ocean fill and were the skies of parchment made, Were every stalk on earth a quill and every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love of God above would drain the ocean dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole though stretched from sky to sky."
The quote at the bottom was: "God's love cannot be explained — it can only be experienced."
Suddenly the dots were connected. I recognized that one of the reasons I did not have trouble understanding God's love was that my mom's hands dispensed it.