Learning to sing a beautiful ballad…a struggle. Wanting to grow from a frightened fledgling to a glorious nightingale, crooning in the glistening moonlight.
I knew it would happen. If you kept trying–never giving up–the reward would be great, the artistry astounding, the masterpiece wondrous. A lifetime in the making, you were slowly, meticulously created. The Master painstakingly crafting you, purposely allowing for imperfections and mistakes that would define you, make you original, make your song magnificent.
If only you knew what was happening. If only you were patient. You would’ve been able to see the progress and the path. To see the incredible journey before you and the treacherous steps behind you…intertwining so much that you must trust your Creator, leaning only on Him for guidance and direction, sometimes not understanding if you were going forward or purposefully swimming in a refrain.
But then, as if sight-reading for the first time, you emerge from the refrain relieved and enlightened. You’ve conquered it, stumbling and losing your place along the way. At first it wasn’t pretty but then you gained momentum and confidence. Your melody took on a life of its own, playing gloriously, artfully…at last for all to hear.
Photo: Night Song of the Nightingale, istockphoto.com/MarinaMariya