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He just sits at the piano and gently touches the keys. At first, he fidgets a bit, as though his hands don’t really know where they want to travel. But then, it’s like revisiting an old friend and the fingers run smoothly and the music fills the room. I am drawn to it, to him, to the call of the music.

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So I tip-toe my way into the living room and quietly lower myself to the couch. And my son, this man of almost thirty years old now, he sits there, eyes closed, heart open to God, singing his heart out, his fingers dancing before God.

And I hold my breath.

And in that moment of holy fellowship, I know that I am invited to join in. So I exhale.  And I let him take me where he is. In that place where nothing matters but the face of God. In that place where my soul remembers truth and is set free from the entanglements that keeps it all caged up. In that place where Jesus dwells.

And I join in the song. But it’s not a song anymore. It’s God visiting with both of us, clothing us with praise, wrapping us in His sweet presence.

The last note lingers and I don’t dare move.

I have just been with God. And my son. All at once.


Cultivating Thankfulness with Ann Voskamp

one thousand#528 The joy of making home made refried beans for my husband

#529 My friend asking me to take a walk with me

#530 Not getting upset over a broken flower pot

#531 Brethern to memorize the Scriptures with

Sometimes, I link up with any or all of these wonderful writers: Hearts 4 HomeSDG,  Hearts Reflected, WLW, EOA, Things I can’t say, Growing HomePlay Dates with GodMonday Musings, Hear it on SundayInspire Me Monday, Tell me a Story, The Better Mom, a Mama’s StoryInto the WordIn and Around Mondays,OYHT, Gratituesday, Titus2Tuesdays, ExtraordinayLessons from IvyDenise in BloomSweet BlessingsFaith Filled Friday, Finding JoyWholeHearted Home, Mom’s the Word,