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The music

No one but me has heard my music in years. It's not good, and that's part of the reason. It's shards and fragments, notes and chords grasping at feelings I can feel but memories I can't quite remember. Only a few things stick out, and some of them cut.

I played a little this afternoon, looking up to see my own face reflected in the glass. I never expected these years. Looking up farther, I saw the book up on the top shelf in the wall—the one place where I have her pictures, her words written in her own hand. Maybe I put them close together on purpose, someplace beyond my thinking. I couldn't bring myself to pull it down and look; I can only do that every few years anymore.

This is the best way, I tell myself. But the music never quite makes the sense it's supposed to, and no one else ever hears.


((hug)) day by day. keep holding onto HIM.
Sometimes, the writing itself is the help that is needed.
I can really appreciate wanting to reach out to someone who you want to help, and not being able to do that. I've been in that spot before.

I know Lee pretty well. Too well, in some respects. While I won't attempt to speak for him entirely, it's my experience that his writing represents a tiny glimpse of both the victory/defeats in his life, but it's the Way Jesus communes with him. He can correct me if I'm wrong, but he does reach out when it's people who can be a part of his healing. And when not, it's the writing that is a prayer.
Thanks, I'll wait for Lee.
Sorry to have butted in! You're clearly angry about that. Yikes - why so intense?
Grief furrows the channels through which rivers of joy will later flow.

It's your jounal, you make all the calls regarding what information you share. You know many others read it regularly. And wonder. And there's nothing wrong with that. But whatever has happened and is happening, you have this outlet called w-r-i-t-i-n-g ... you happen to be very gifted at it. Your sorrows and jubilations read LIFE! Thank God for that, huh?
Not to be too forward, but are we sharing the same brain??!

I played for the first time in a long time yesterday. My old stuff is overproduced, messy, and the memories just about kill me.

I understand.
Perhaps the depth of the fruit of the gift will offset some of the lonliness. Perhaps. Until then, I know it's hard for you to bear.
I can't relate, and I have no idea just what you're going through, but I know God is with you. I know He is living inside you, comforting you. I will also be praying for you. (I have been, but now I know something more specific I can pray for.) Rest in God, my friend.