One of my earliest memories is my mom singing to us.
Whenever we went to bed she would sit down next to us and read us a story or sing a song. Songs about the moon and God’s love for the world. Peaceful songs. I must admit that I forgot many of them as I grew older, which is sad when I don’t know the words to sing to my godson.
Our house was always full of music.
We all played different instruments and I guess it must have been quite painful for my parents to hear us practicing.
Something we never had to practice was singing.
My sister and I would just sing along to a CD and improvise harmonies.
Often times we would meet as a family in the evening to sing a few songs of worship.
Since then a lot of things have changed.
We have gotten older, we have moved out, we don’t have that much time to be together anymore. But whenever my sister and I gather, we make time to sing.
We pick a song we liked on the radio and just get started.
No practice, no rules, just singing.
Sometimes she leads, sometimes I invent something.
We improvise and create together.
And most of the time it sounds magical and we can’t believe this just came out of our mouths.
A creation we can’t just repeat.
A one-time opus we have to enjoy in the moment.
Singing is a way to connect on a different, maybe deeper, level.
It’s a way to express yourself without using a lot of words.
There’s music all around us.
The trees softly moving in the wind.
The birds joyfully welcoming a new day.
The lady next to me humming when she’s busy.
The ocean powerfully breaking wave after wave.
The sounds of our lives coming together.
Sounds that tell us: I am here. I see you. I hear you. Always.
All we have to do is listen.
Writing for Five Minute Friday today.