My oldest son is practicing Amazing Grace on his violin.
The music floats to me, standing in the kitchen, from the living room.
He’s playing it on a repeating loop this morning at home, before he plays it in a few hours time at his great grandma’s funeral.
My father brought the music over on Sunday afternoon and they worked on it together.
I get a lump in my throat every time I hear it.
Sometimes tears leak out.
I can’t help it.
It’s the music.
It’s the words.
We’re so undeserving.
But He gave it anyway.
And the song begins playing again, as if on cue.
© 2011 Turquoise Tangles