One hundred three days…

I play the piano.  I don’t play very well, but I play.   It’s an act of worship, sweet serenity, and an answer to prayer.  I didn’t learn to play until I was in my early thirties.  I have always sung in church, but I had a deep longing to sit behind a piano and lead a congregation in pure worship.  It’s not about people hearing me or seeing me; it’s all about giving Him glory through the gift He gave.  Every time I play, I thank God for making another dream come true in my life.  When I was a little girl, I would literally sit in awe of anyone who could sing well.  I would almost feel envious of those who could play the piano as if it was an extension of their own body.  I was drawn to music.

I don’t find myself behind the piano keyboard as much anymore.  I’m now finding myself behind the computer keyboard speaking with you.  I have been expressing who I am to you a little bit at a time.  My hope is when you read my blog, you will feel as if you know me.  It sounds strange, but I feel as if I know you already.  As I write, I imagine we are old friends.  I’m by no means a wordsmith; you won’t need a dictionary to read my posts.  You will, however, need a heart, and the fact that everyone has one works greatly to my advantage.  Just like I am drawn to music, I am now finding myself drawn to you.  I’m curious about who you are and what you have been through. I have a feeling we will find ourselves standing on common ground.

Tomorrow I will share chapter two of “Nothing to Hold but Hope.”

I look forward to talking with you then, old friend.

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