The girl told me, “Jesus loves you.” She was always telling me this. Or texting me. She said this to others as well and it sometimes made them uncomfortable. But to me, even though I’d never had anything to do with Jesus, it was like music to my ears.
“I’m pretty sure Jesus loves you too,” I texted back to the girl, not knowing how to respond but imagining this was something she’d like to hear from someone else.
How could I not feel warmed by a message of love after all the negative, demeaning, hateful remarks too often being conveyed these days, especially by leaders, government officials, celebrities, and others who get widely heard? Just because someone or something is different from what one is familiar with, people shouldn’t be degrading in their communications.
Every weekend this past summer there was sweet music coming from next door. “Nyckelharpa,” the musicians called the strange instrument I had never seen before. And although I couldn’t dance to the unfamiliar rhythms of the Balkan music they played, the elaborate haunting tunes always filled me with joy.
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I’m reading your posts. Short, thoughtful, usually sorrowful, sometimes hopeful, always striking a chord with me Robin. Your writing is like music. I’m with you in our heartbreak ♡
Oh, yow, Susan. I’ve missed hearing from you. Whenever you write to me, you make me feel like I’d love to spend time with you in person, with wine and good cheese and a lot of time to while away. Many thanks and happy holidays.
Robin you have very interesting neighbors!
Yeah, well, they’ve moved away now, taking the nyckelharpa and the music with them.