Before we begin, allow me to say:  “I am not a musician.”

When I was a child, my older sister (a musician to her core) took piano lessons each week.  In fact, even before the overly-large piano was donated to our home, my sister would practice her piano on the kitchen tabletop.  She would sit in her kitchen chair, with her piano book in front of her, reading her learned notes, practicing on her non-existent piano, hearing the music inside her head.

All that I could hear was NOTHING!

All that I could see was my sister wasting the sunny days of summer, while she sat at our kitchen table practicing on her “pretend” piano.   For sure, I would rather be outside, running in the wind, shooting my cap guns with my younger brother, driving our play tractors in the sand box, and riding my bike as fast I could across the flat terrain of the Indiana prairie.

Life was so wonderful BEFORE the “real” piano arrived at our home.

When the “real” piano arrived, my sister would practice for hours, playing over & over her one learned song—“The Entertainer.” So often she replayed that melody, practicing for hours, that the song is permanently planted inside my head.

Then, that fateful day came, the one when mom said:  “Nancy, I think you should take piano lessons too.”

At first, I was not so troubled by the idea.  How hard could it be?  I witnessed the ease with which my older sister played the piano, and if she could learn to play, then surely I could too.

Before we continue, allow me to reiterate:  “I am not a musician.”

I clearly recall (now years removed) how my first piano lesson went.  We drove to a nearby town, and mom parked in front of a white mansion where the piano teacher lived.  I went first, but I am not sure why.

‘This will be easy,’ I thought, as I slid my skinny, kid-sized butt onto the piano bench sitting before the black grand piano.  Little did I know when I agreed to give “this music” thing a try that the piano teacher would positioned us directly in front of a large window facing the back driveway.  Therein was the problem, for outside the window, just waiting for me, was a basketball goal and ball.

“Hurry through this piano lesson and then shoot some hoops while my sister took her lesson,” I thought.

Hurry cannot occur when one is not a musician.

Before we finish this story, allow me to shout to the rafters:  “I am not a musician.”

It is the TRUTH; the LORD desires a relationship with each person alive!

• The Good Shepherd wants His sheep to flourish!
• The Lord Jesus Christ seeks us!
• The Savior Jesus whispers to our being—

Find contentment in a relationship with Jesus, for this has been God’s intent from the beginning.

Father God desires—

• That we will choose to be well-fed by the Word of God.
• That we will choose to be cared for by Jesus, the Son of God—the Good Shepherd.

In closing, when I was a ten-year-old, those two, torturous weeks of piano lessons lasted for an eternity!

Thank goodness God has blessed me with such an amazingly, talented, musical sister & a wonderfully intelligent mom who quickly saw how my love for music lessons would never transpire as my older sister’s.  Mom saw me—one who loved all sports.

May we remember The Psalms.

• May we recall them when sleep alludes our bodies.
• May we allow our hearts to meditate upon His Word.
• May we realize how it is not us—BUT GOD—who has called this, our meeting, our Selah, with Him.

Thus, whenever our health becomes compromised—OR—when disease attacks & we do not know why—OR—when hardships boldly walk into our path—OR—when relationships with others become a struggle—OR—even when life suddenly alters within a heartbeat of a moment—the only danger comes in forgetting—

God remains here with us!

• For it is in the Selah of life—
• For in the unexpected pauses—
• For in the present & eternal resting—Our Father provides—

May we Allow God to Reframe Our Lives!

Trust Him!

Be content among His green pastures!   &

Be always remembering how this world is not our home!