Then Sings My Soul

My dad was a lover of all things music. He always had it full blast in the car.  He would infamously beat his steering wheel like he was playing drums in the greatest concert of his life. He would sit on our front porch strumming his guitar, while singing Hooty and the Blowfish "Let her go", trying his best to ruin my reputation...or so I thought. As a matter of fact the only time he wasn't singing was while he was fishing. In that case he would dare us to make a peep!  His dad before him was a musician.  Following in their footsteps, my brothers and I quickly took up their passion as well. As kids, we would even travel around and sing at any church that would have us. Music was who we were.

While on a recent road trip and scanning the stations, we came across and started belting out the familiar "Bye Bye Miss American Pie". I couldn't hardly get to the last lyric "The day the music died", without reminiscing back to the day the music just stopped in my life. I am not sure if it was a moment, a season, or a slow drift that turned into a decade. All that I was aware of, was that along my journey, I had let that part of me die.  Subconsciously, I had associated music with the trauma and pain I had endured. I no longer was a lover of it. I didn't want to hear it, mostly because I didn't want to feel. And year after year it slowly turned non existent in my life. I became a craver of solitude more that a lover of lyrics.  Something that used to flow so freely through me as a child was now being suppressed without me even knowing it.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized after losing my dad and subsequently losing my brothers to things other than death, I let that part of me become dormant. Mostly because I related the melody with the memories. I stopped hearing the beat of the drums, or the chord of the guitar because I didn't want to remember what I no longer had. I didn't want the loud music to remind me of the chaos of my dad driving me around drunk and fearing for my life.


This morning as I heard my sweet girl pick up her ukelele and start playing her favorite little tune. I suddenly remembered what a blessing the gift of song can be. It provides us with an avenue to worship God.  It can turn a written word into a feeling. It unites us. And like his word, it has the power to bring healing to us.  I am grateful to God for blessing me with my little songbird, and for bringing the gift of music back into my life. I will allow him to resurrect that part of me, that I was sure had perished. And for me...... the music will forever be a reminder of how regardless of the pain, regardless of the trauma, your soul will always find its song❤