My husband has a voice like an angel. He opens his mouth and magic happens. After nearly 30 years, I am still his biggest fan. He was in a band before the YouTube era. They all played by ear and had to deconstruct a song in order to play it themselves. They identified each of the instruments and each of the vocal harmonies by listening to a song over and over, picking out the component parts. Being on the periphery of this process taught me to do the same. Oh, there’s a mandolin on this, a banjo on that. I can even pick out an accordion versus a harmonica and whether there is one or two guitars. And the harmonies. Don’t get me started. It’s impossible for me to listen to a song now and not think about the unique elements that blend together to make it a whole, a work of art.
We are the same, you and I. We are unique works of art made up of moments, relationships and choices, orchestrated by the hand of God. If you listen closely enough to that idiotic checkout girl, annoying coworker or thoughtless nurse, you might just be able to hear something other than the clanging cymbal and noisy gong. Maybe not at first, you have to try. And sometimes try again.
Just Passing Through 