I love music. Pretty much all music. Well… not so much heavy metal, but don’t hold that against me. Occasionally I’ll torture my girls by making them listen to classic rock or songs from the 70’s but I think they like it more than they let on. Sometimes I torture my husband with Neil Diamond. I don’t think he ever likes that.
One thing that I love about music is how it touches my soul. When nothing else can break through whatever I’m hiding behind, music can. When I’m lost and down, it never fails that God will put the perfect song in my path. Take today for instance.
I failed. Screwed up. Blew it big time. However you want to say it the truth is that I did’t act like a mature, loving, Godly mother. I yelled at my daughter. Not a great example, I know. You have to understand that my mother never yelled. Only once in my whole life did she even raise her voice and my brothers deserved it often. In my ideal world I am patient and mature. Able to work through any problem and every hormonal outburst with a simple hug. Wise enough to see through the smoke screens in order to get to the heart of any issue. That’s my ideal world. My reality is that I get my feelings hurt. I lose my temper. I resort to yelling in order to get someones attention. I’m hormonal. REALLY hormonal. And I get lost in emotions very quickly only to lose sight of the goal of a discussion. Anyone can win an argument with me. Maybe that’s why I can get pretty tough. Somehow, someway I feel the need to make people listen to me and to respect me. How childish is that?
Needless to say, I felt like crap. And what happens when I feel like crap? I remember all the other times I’ve screwed up. Then I feel worse. I make a list of faults all the while trying to tell myself that I’ve done more wonderful things than horrible things and that I’m not so bad. I quickly start to question whether that is legitimate or if I’m just trying to make myself feel better. You get the picture, don’t you? It’s been a long tiring day.
Then I sat still….and the music played through my head.
A particular song that my oldest sent me last year. A few weeks later my other two daughters were singing it on the way home from youth group. A few months ago I found a really cool, hippy version of it on Youtube but I hadn’t heard it in a while. Then it popped in my head. A message from a loving God. At least, that’s what I think.
“You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of the dust. You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of us.”
I sat down and cried. I had already cried quite a bit out of the my guilt and regret, but these were tears of relief. Yea, I’m not perfect. My kids probably won’t remember me as the mom that did everything right but I hope they remember me as the mom that loved them and loved God. I believe that we all do many more things right than we give ourselves credit for but I don’t want to gloss over the things we do wrong. Without seeing my faults I can’t see my need for someone to save me from them. Without seeing my need for a savior I can’t see my Jesus. When I don’t see my Jesus I miss out on the incredible transformation that He specializes in. I’m a work in progress. I pray that I’m better today than I was yesterday. My hope is that God will take my life, with all my failings and hangups, and continue to make me more and more beautiful.
One song that my kids listen to spoke volumes of truth to my soul. My God chose music to send me a love letter. A letter that said, “You are my daughter and you are beautiful. I love you.” The same is true for you. Letting myself off the hook is the hardest part. Trusting Him to redeem my mistakes is my hope. Knowing that I am forgiven and loved….priceless.