Band Practice is in session. One three year old on his own snare drum, one five year old on his own xylophone, one seven year old the drums, one twenty year old at the piano. All playing at the same time being lead by the 20 year old. Just your typical Friday morning in this house.
All scrambling to finish breakfast so that extra time before leaving for school would allow Band Practice. Me, I sit in the family room, a few rooms away from the make shift band room (my living and dining room). Sipping my hot coffee and deciding this is to precious to miss. I step out of the way of budding and accomplished musicians and just listen.
They love their band. They love to practice and with each new mysterious note they play, off beat, and without direction they play the most beautiful music. As I sat sipping my coffee listening to the clatters and bangs, and the melody of the piano I felt how blessed to sit with such raw talent. How blessed this music of sorts is to my ears. I smile to think of the boys waiting for their Papa to come home from work so they can perform for him. I am sure after a long day at work the clanging of instruments would not be his first choice, but even he smiles and takes it all in.
What a blessing to God these children must be. To take the worship songs they have heard over the years and piece together worship to Him. This is how my home has always been. I remember years of one end of the house with Elliot playing trumpet or guitar, and the the other end with Emily playing the piano or her mandolin. No, they did not blend well from opposite ends of the house, but I prayed I would be silent. Truly a hard prayer as I am not one for a loss of words. In that silence and going about my business two were raised up to be love, embrace and be creative with music. I am praying the other three will do the same. We are well on our way, as big sister sits at the piano with them. An example to those little boys.
This afternoon Emerson wanted me to practice the Ant Song with him. Me playing the cord of C and singing..The ants slowly climbing up the hill, the ants running down the hill...Emerson playing and counting the beats with me, slowing down, getting faster. He is only three and even now he gets the joy of making a beautiful sound with a snare drum.
God truly gives us the desires of our hearts, as my hearts desire has always been to have musical children. So thanks God for the ability to tolerate these early years of lots of banging and clanging around. I wonder what the neighbors think. And the band played on.