Just last weekend, my Sweet Louise and I got dressed up and headed downtown.
We had two tickets for the beautiful, historic theatre. There’s something special about seeing the marquee glowing. The night air was brisk as smiling patrons bustled into the ticket line. Excitedly anticipating the experience that lie ahead.
We were spending the evening with the orchestra.
Tonight ~ Beethoven’s “Pastoral” Symphony.
His moving expression of his love for nature.
Symphony No. 6
Harmonies of woodwinds and strings. The rich and inviting tones of the cello. Oh, the sweetness of the viola. The quintessential warmth of the violin. The beautiful blending of clarinet and bassoon.
Movements masterfully written by the greatest pianist and composer of all time.
Evocative melodies drawing you in to that sublime space where only music can reach.
Immersed for hours. Fully present.
Wholly listening.
A heightened sense of auricular awareness.
The outside world melts away.
I remember my younger years, going to see the symphony with my parents. My first introduction to classical pieces. Little did I know that those chamber seeds sown so long ago would take root decades later.
A love of old-world music to share with my own daughter.
A treasured tradition.
…
Instruments are tuned. The conductor enters the stage as the audience applauds.
Then it begins.
The orchestra plays and we are gradually swept back in time. To the 1800s.
We sit side-by-side in hushed reverence as bows are pulled across strings in unison. The theatre space is filled with soothing harmonies. And the brilliance of Beethoven is emoted in score.
Forty-five minutes of acoustic magnificence.
Applause rises to meet the musicians.
Then slowly, the house lights go up and the evening goes on.
Intermission.
If you are like some of us who made it just in time for the show, intermission is the time to read the program. To get the back-story. To learn more about the members of the philharmonic.
Intermission provides a mental margin to contemplate the preceding movement. And time afforded to anticipate the next.
An opportunity to delight in this experience.
I am constantly dazzled and awesomely amazed at how God wraps these profundities together in my life.
Themes of learning.
Lessons of love.
And today was one of them.
The night at the symphony brought contemplation on many levels. But I had never really considered the ‘intermissions’ in life.
This afternoon, I was forced to examine this exact concept.
The front end of the week had been burdened with stressors. Taking time to find breathing space, Emma and I had successfully flexed our schedules to accommodate afternoon walks at the park. A time to refresh before the responsibilities that lie ahead in the evening hours.
Homework. Housework.
Additional priorities of the day.
…
But this walk was different.
I watched her quickened pace. Hands tucked inside her black, woolen pockets. Head down. Teeth clenched.
Tension thick.
Our words couldn’t reach one another no matter how hard we tried. It soon became evident that talking was tightening the band.
Voices raised. Tears welled and anger ensued.
Back in the car, my Sweet Louise shouted.
Her petition ~ an empty expanse of space between us.
24 hours of silence.
Frustrated and confused I could feel my jaw seize. A short exhale and I granted her indignant request.
Albeit in spite.
We had abruptly arrived at a poignant and emotional interlude.
An intermission.
Psalm 46:10
“Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!”
After an hour or so of wallowing in the angry muck, I decided to hand it over to God.
What else was there to do, right?!
So….we continued on with the usual evening routine. But this time, in wordlessness.
…
I had to run an errand in town and decided to meet up with a friend for coffee. She could set me straight. Not only did she know my ways, but she was unabashedly able to call me out on my wrongs.
Better still, she had been in our lives since Emma was young. Through the trials of alcoholism in our family. At the celebration of our baptisms together. Now on the sidelines as we tried our best to live out this New Life in Christ.
She knew my heart and my desire to work in alliance with God.
I needed another perspective.
And she was the fresh pair of lenses that I needed to try on.
After I shared the situation at hand, my dear friend guided me in re-shaping my understanding. She helped me put things into context.
Suddenly I recognized vulnerability and hurt where I had earlier seen denial and obstinance. Given her insight, I was able to look at things from another angle. A different point-of-view.
And I came away from our time together with a renewed sensitivity for Emma’s struggles.
This friend was my translator.
My conductor.
Just as the orchestra needs a maestro to convey the subtle nuances of the musical arrangement, I needed the interpretations of a trusted friend.
To see and discover the notes.
To blend the harmonies.
To help me recognize the beauty of opportunity that was written before me. On the pages of our score.
Our life’s duette.
Philippians 4:6
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.”
Later, I arrived home and that sweet girl smiled with a quiet sense of peace.
…
Hours passed.
I was seated at the kitchen table. About the time she typically heads to her room to read before bed, she came near. Without pause she wrapped her arms around me. My ear meeting her chest.
And in that moment, in the silence…I was truly able to hear her heart.
Not just the thrumming of life.
But to really hear what her heart had been trying to tell me all along.
Past her expression of feelings.
Beyond my middle-aged misunderstanding.
Exceeding the emotional exchanges of vehement verbiage. Fierce conversation. And passionate pleas.
I was finally able to grasp her communicative intention.
She was emphatically crying out.
And in that realization, I quietly wept.
…
You see, Jesus met us here when we needed Him most. He knew that we weren’t able to conquer this one on our own.
I had been so wound in my own world of good intention. Thinking that my constant stream of words were meeting their mark ~ to embolden her. To encourage.
All the while her perception was pressure.
Pressure in a world that is already at capacity.
Forces applied to an existing and steadfast social struggle.
A need to be accepted in circles where she often feels she doesn’t fit. A tenacious teetering, of sorts. Woefully wondering about her place.
What if she pushes others away with her uncommon thoughts?
Her personal beliefs.
Her convictions.
Will they will still embrace her even though she’s different?
And what about love?
Does it fall short? Is there a limited supply ~ only available to those who conform?
…
These are the same questions that we ask ourselves as Christ followers.
In this seemingly chaotic realm of calamity, sin is constantly chasing us down. Momentarily capturing our attention. The plight of our physical existence on this earth.
Causing us to question our own place.
Our own sense of security.
We push Christ away in our denial of guilt and in the depths of our shame.
Creating caverns.
Trying desperately to put time and space between ourselves and our Savior as inadequacy rues the day. Despairing attempts to clean-up our lives. To be more presentable.
How could we even think of asking our God for help in the shape that we’re in?
So unprepared.
Truly undeserving.
But the Creator himself, our Father God redeemed it all through His Son ~ Christ Jesus.
Arms open wide on the Cross.
A loving and eternal image of His promise to never leave or forsake us.
No matter how angry we get.
No matter how hard we have pushed.
No matter how far we have run.
He is there.
Waiting for us with kindness and unfathomable understanding. Welcoming us back to our safe haven.
Our forever respite.
…
I needed to be reminded of that redemption today.
The overwhelming power of His mercy to cover me in my sense of failure.
For these days and weeks that I’ve been preoccupied trying to convince my daughter of all the greatness that is expected of her. Inadvertently proclaiming who and how she needs to be rather than quietly trusting His will.
I needed the breath of His forgiveness in this place.
That I might find newness once again, in His grace. To continue to grow in His healing.
By His goodness, each day is a gift.
Even those days that surprise and challenge me.
Even the intermissions.
For in this last 24 hours, He has unwrapped the beauty of compassion before me.
(click to play: )
Our 24 hours will be coming to a close.
And in that precious time of silence I have learned so much.
So much about myself.
About my Sweet Louise.
But most of all, I have learned more about my Savior. Expanding my awareness of Him. Increasing my appreciation for who He is.
For the Glory that He brings to my life.
I have taken the time to look at images past.
Photos of my beloved Emma when she was just discovering this vast and beautiful Creation. A child unbridled and filled with awe. Spirited by wonder.
Joy filled her heart with song.
And now in this present season of her life, I can recognize her need for that same expanse of freedom.
To explore this new space and to find joy again.
In her maturing identity in Christ.
She’s asking to be the principle musician. Playing her piece the way that she wants to. Her interpretation of this piece in her life.
The one that God has written especially for her.
…
As He continues to pen the chapters of our journey, I can see how He thoughtfully orchestrates our lives. Our family and friends ~ the instruments of His current composition.
Faithfully creating His masterpiece in our days.
And by His amazing grace, Emma and I have been given another opportunity.
For a spectacular and brand new “Opening Night”.
…
My Sweet Louise 
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