Today, for some reason unbeknownst to me, I have music in my veins. It is flowing from my heart and thrumming in my throat. Reaching down and tapping at my feet. Escaping from between my teeth. It is there, singing with joy.
Perhaps I caught it while I was in Kentucky. The guitars – the drum – the banjos – the ukuleles. They sang in the cafeteria – in Old Hickory – in the dorm. And they decided to climb into my heart and sit a spell.
Gather ’round my table. Say grace with me. In my little trailer, in the mountains of Wise County. I sing while I wash my hands, frothy with soap.
Back when I was younger, I was not so bright. I made lots of blunders, but things turned out alright. I sing softly as I make my way down the stairs, stocking feet slapping against wood.
Or maybe it’s not Kentucky…maybe it’s the rapidly approaching Holy Week. Perhaps my heart is readying itself for the sorrow and the joy. The triumph of Palm Sunday – the beautiful servitude of Holy Thursday – the agony of Good Friday – the expectation of Easter Vigil – the joy of Easter Sunday. The songs are settling down inside my soul, preparing me for the week ahead.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord? It vibrates inside my throat as my paintbrush slides across a battered and deeply scarred door.
Ohhh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Incredible, wonderful gratitude…
…humming, singing, flowing in music through my veins.